“It is a solidarity in change,” Alice noted. “The one thing that never changes, even as she ages.”
Penelope leaned in; her eyes widened. “Alice, these strokes are so fine, they look as thin as a strand of hair. It must have taken ages to paint all these.”
Joining her sister to peer at the minutiae of the painting, Alice pulled back. “You are right. The brushwork is so precise. That is marvelous.”
At the end of the line, Penelope nodded over her shoulder. “Duke Valhaven just walked in.”
Instantly, her calm mood vanished and anxiously, she slid her palms down her gown. The washed ivory was the most beautiful color she’d ever seen, and when she had sewn it, she’d felt happy that it would highlight her complexion. Now she worried if it made her look like a pasty mess.
She glanced up and her gaze clashed with Edward’s. Her breath caught; he was always handsome; in his evening attire, he was breathtaking.
Don’t do it. Don’t look at him.
“Would you like to visit another exhibit?” She asked Penelope pointedly. “There are three more rooms we can visit.”
“I think I’ll stay here for a while,” Penelope said, “But go on if you’d like. Oh, His Grace is approaching.”
Her heart stopped for just a moment and then sped up as he crossed the room coming directly toward them; before he bowed, she dipped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”
Alice snapped open her fan to distract herself while Penelope openly ogled the Duke; she blinked, realizing that the man who’d played such a large part in her life and her latest discoveries about herself had never met her sister directly.
Which made her sad. If he’d been her beau…But he isn’t,she chastised herself.
“Miss Penelope, Miss Alice,” he greeted cooly, his gaze as distant and detached as his voice. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my brother will be absent tonight. His professor is forcing him to stay all night with a tutor to rewrite a paper. However, he gives me his word that he will visit on the morrow.”
Her heart sank. “I am sorry to hear that. I’d hoped—” she sighed, “—never mind.”
“I hope you can enjoy this evening anyhow,” Edward said calmly. With a bow, he left to a trio of men, artlessly snagging a glass of champagne as he went.
Alice allowed her gaze to trail after him and it lingered for a while, until Penelope gently elbowed her in the side and with some quiet parting words, she left for the other exhibits. This room, two long corridors away, housed antiquities, and she gazed with wonder at a mural from Mesopotamia and vases from Ancient Egypt.
A statue of Poseidon poised to throw his trident, but the deadly weapon was missing. She pinked and averted her eyes from his male member and turned to another vase that showed a man fondling a woman’s breast through her gossamer clothes.
She turned away to view another statue; a trio of water nymphs, all three of them naked, their generous curves and sylphlike bodies were masterpieces in themselves.
“Is it not amazing that the ancient people had such reverence and regard for the human body?” Edward murmured from behind her, startling her so much she nearly tripped forward into the statue.
His hands thrust outward catching her, before steadying her and getting her back on her feet. The heat of his hand permeated through the layer of silk and cotton and seared her skin.
She pulled away and shivered. “Why—why are you here?”
He quirked a brow. “Can a man not explore more than the primer attraction?”
“Oh... of course.” Her lashes lowered, and her cheeks warmed.
“This was five centuries before Christ,” he gazed at the sculpture. “When did society turn us into such prudes?”
Her face flamed. “That is improper talk in front of a young woman, Your Grace.”
“It would be,” Edward said while rounding the statue and meeting her eyes with a smoldering gaze. “If I didn’t know how passionate you are. Admit it, Alice. Are you really going to let all your passion go unplumbed for the rest of your life?”
She bristled, “What matter is that of yours? You are not agreeable to marriage or anything else than what delights you for a moment and then you will invariably move on. I am not foolish enough to buy into your game.”
His lips ticked down at a corner, “I suppose I am selfish.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed. “Why are you so against marriage anyhow? Was it a bad example your parents had set for you? Was your heart broken in the past? Why are you so staunchly against an ordinary tenant of existence?”
His jaw worked as he stared at the statue, “This isn’t the sort of thing one talks about with a well-bred miss,” he muttered, “I don’t want to shock you, Alice.”
