Julian eyed the portrait once more, heaving a sigh as he shook his head. “No, I cannot. So, what else are you working on?”
“Not at liberty to say, I’m afraid. Secret project, and all that.” Josiah threw him a challenging look. “Nothing risky, though, before you start lecturing.”
“Glad to hear it.” Julian gave his brother’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze and cast an eye around the studio, which occupied the entire top floor of his brother’s London apartments.
Sunlight, pouring through two large windows and a skylight, filled the entire, white-washed space, with the exception of a mysterious corner hidden behind a screen of faded, red silk curtains. Canvases of assorted sizes were stacked along one wall, while a diverse selection of jars containing an equally diverse collection of brushes and other implements occupied several wooden wall shelves. A large wooden table stood in the middle of the room, its surface a chaotic mosaic of paint spatters that had accumulated over time. Beside it, two empty easels awaited their next project. A large mirror, set in an ornate gilt frame, leant against the far wall, adding extra depth and light to the room.
It was more than a workspace, Julian thought. It was, in fact, a representation of his brother’s character; colorful, abstract, not quite orderly but unquestionably brilliant, and not without a furtive edge of darkness and mystery. Then his gaze came to rest on the chaise-longue featured in the duchess’s portrait.
“Borrowed,” Josiah said, apparently following along. “The owner is coming to collect it this afternoon.”
Julian smiled an acknowledgment. “So, you’ll definitely be joining the family for dinner tonight?”
“Definitely.” Josiah drew a cross over his heart. “I’ll be there at five o’clock sharp.”
“Then my mission is accomplished, and I shall leave you in peace.” He gave the duchess a final admiring glance and then headed for the door. “Superb work, brother, truly. I’m proud of you.”
“You are?” A hint of surprise edged Josiah’s response.
“Unquestionably.” Julian paused on the threshold and looked back. “Weallare, Joe. See you tonight.”
Minutes later, he stepped onto the street, intent on hailing a cab, but paused, his gaze drawn to a remarkably clear sky. A pleasant change, since the past several days had been damp and miserable. And for him, at least, this bright day marked the end of another London season. As usual, his time in the city had been enjoyable and entertaining, but not extraordinary.
As far as marriage prospects went, Julian had yet to meet the woman with whom he’d wish to spend a lifetime. He was in no particular hurry, however, so it mattered little. Tomorrow, utilizing both train and horse-drawn carriage, he would begin the journey back to Yorkshire, specifically Highfield Hall and all the responsibilities the estate entailed. Today, he decided to forgo transport and take advantage of this rather splendid day. It was not a long walk to the family’s London home. Half an hour, perhaps. Tapping his hat firmly onto his head, he set out.
Chapter Two
Clutching her small,paper-wrapped purchase, Annie Fairfax stepped out of the Burlington Arcade and merged into the turbulent tide of man, beast, and carriage that walked, trotted, and rumbled along Piccadilly. After a week of wet and windy weather, the dawning of this calm, sunny day seemed to have brought forth half of the city’s population, Annie included. Unfortunately, London’s more disagreeable odors hung stubbornly in the motionless air, adding weight to the discomforting swell of humanity.
Nose wrinkling, Annie opened the silver vinaigrette that dangled on a fine chain about her neck and lifted it to her nostrils to savor the more agreeable scent of lavender. It calmed her somewhat, but she clutched her package a little tighter as she dodged and wound her way through the throng of people. Despite being born and raised in the city, or maybe because of it, she had never been comfortable in crowds.
“Are you still with me, Hattie?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the woman who had long served as matron, teacher, and maid to Annie.
“Right behind you,” Hattie replied, wafting a hand like a fan beneath her nose. Annie nodded and turned back, a move that caused her to side-step directly into the path of someone coming toward her. She had no time to correct herself or even cry out as she ploughed into whoever it was.
It might as well have been a stone wall.
A decidedly male “oof” coincided with her choked cry as she toppled backwards, arms flailing, hands snatching at air. The package flew from her grasp, her heels caught in the hem of her skirt, and she sat down hard on the pavement. The vicious jolt caused her to bite her tongue, which brought instant, scalding tears to her eyes. From somewhere above, a man’s voice uttered a mild curse, while another tittered. Winded and tasting blood, Annie flinched as the crowds continued to move past, their shapes creating dizzying waves of shadow and light. She tried and failed to take air. “Pl… please,” she managed, struggling to fill her lungs. “Cannot br—”
“It’s all right miss, I have you,” a man said, and she felt herself being hoisted gently to her feet by a pair of strong, and undeniably masculine, arms. “My sincere apologies. That was quite the bump. Are you injured at all?”
Annie, at last, managed to draw a desperate lungful of air. She opened her eyes but squeezed them shut again when the world around her tilted nauseatingly. “Oh my.”
The man’s hands, cradling Annie’s elbows, tightened slightly as she grabbed, blindly, onto his sleeves. “Take your time, miss,” he said. “Catch your breath.”
Hattie’s concerned voice meandered into Annie’s ear. “Gracious, my pet, you took quite the tumble. Are you hurt? You’re as white as a sheet. Here, let go of the gentleman and lean on me.”
“Just give me a moment, Hattie,” Annie replied, and clutched the fabric of the man’s sleeves tighter. Yes, she was hurt. Her tongue stung, her bottom ached, and her pride was not without injury either. It took an effort to keep the tears at bay.
“Do you feel faint, miss?” the man asked. “Perhaps you should sit for a while. Come, there’s a bench over here.”
Annie cringed inwardly at the thought of sitting on a hard bench. “No, I’d rather not,” she replied, somewhat abruptly. Softening hertone, she continued, “That is, thank you, but I just need…” She squinted through her lashes. “I just need a moment or two.”
“Of course,” came the gentle response. “Take all the time you need. I’m in no hurry.”
Annie knew she should probably let go of whoeverhewas, but didn’t quite dare, mostly because her legs felt somewhat like jelly. Besides, nothing about this man’s nearness gave her cause for concern or embarrassment. If anything, she found solace in his apparent strength. Who was he?
She breathed in a subtle hint of Eau De Cologne and dared to open her eyes fully, exhaling with relief to find her dizziness had almost abated. She blinked and stared at the blue silk cravat before her, the neat folds secured with a pearl-tipped, gold pin. As her composure returned, her gaze moved upward over a cleanly-shaven, masculine jaw, an unsmiling but pleasant mouth, and a finely sculpted nose. A second later, she found herself looking into a pair of arresting hazel eyes, gazing down at her from beneath a pair of dark brows, which were currently knitted together in a frown. Annie’s breath caught and her stomach gave a queer little lurch. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. All she could do was stare into the man’s eyes. He stared back, his frown usurped by the hint of a smile.
