She glanced up, smiling as they twirled together around the ballroom. “You’renot supposed to be looking at me.”
“Oh yes I am.” He let a purr of meaning into his voice, love and lust both together, and he felt the answering tremble in her body.
Smiling, because of course she’d hidden her eyes from him again, he said, “Besides, they’re only looking because you’re dancing with the most handsome man in London.”
She laughed. “No, Jack.Surelythey are looking at me because I’m one of the most talked about youngpaintersin London?”
“That’s what happens when you get commissioned by duchesses, Min. If you didn’t want the attention, you shouldn’t have gone charming the Duchess of Cumbria.”
“All I did was speak to her!”
“That’s enough.”
She smiled up at him. “Anyway. It was Caroline’s doing. She introduced us at Mr Thornton’s exhibition. She really does know everyone in London, doesn’t she?”
“It seems so.”
The dance separated them for a moment. Jack ran his eyes over the crowd. His mother was fanning herself at the side of the ballroom, watching the dancers with avid enjoyment. Ashburton stood resolutely by her side, Nell ignoring him and chatting to one of her friends. Several couples further up the dance, George danced with Nora. Jack bit his lip, trying not to laugh, but the look of resigned duty on George’s face was almost as comical as Nora’s disgruntlement.
To Nora, Jack knew, even George’s fortune couldn’t make up for his many crimes. First, he’d been witness to her disgrace. Second, he was provokingly censorious about it and refused to forget it like any true gentleman ought—these were Nora’s own words—and instead insisted on keeping a hawk-eyed watch on her every time they met, which was far too often for her liking. And third, and worst of all, he was so stuffilyungallantand boringly proper,and hardly fashionable at all, for all his wealth.
“Has Caroline heard from her brother?” Jack asked once Lucy was back in his arms. Caroline had remained mostly in Derbyshire, only visiting town infrequently after her brother’s conduct. No one knew of it, not openly, but she seemed to prefer to keep a low profile. Or as low a profile as Caroline was capable of.
“Yes, though not in much detail. Her last letter said he was in Spain. The fighting is very heavy. I look at the casualty lists in the papers, Jack. I know I shouldn’t care, but…”
“I understand. I only hope this might be the making of him.”
“Yes,” agreed Lucy sadly. “For Caroline’s sake, I wish it.”
“Stranger things have happened,” said Jack with a smile, bowing as the dance ended.
He led Lucy from the dance. Spying Mr Thornton among the guests, he headed that way.
“Beautiful, beautiful,” said Mr Thornton. “What a dance! If I were only ten years younger, I’d try it myself.”
“Nonsense,” said Lucy. “You are not too old at all.”
“Maybe I lack the right partner, then.”
“I doubt that too,” said Lucy with a significant smile across the room to where a tall, refined-looking gentleman stood in quiet conversation. “It is the wrong audience. That is all.”
Mr Thornton smiled. “Speaking of audiences…”
Lucy took a sharp breath. “You showed it?”
“I did.”
“And?” she squeaked.
“They’d like to see your oil painting of the piece, but the pastel drew much interest and appreciation. I think it likely that your finished work will be chosen for exhibition next year.”
Jack smiled at Lucy’s ecstatic face. To have a piece at the Royal Academy exhibition had been her dream for years.
“A very interesting interpretation,” said Mr Thornton. He smiled at Jack. “And the model reminds me of someone.”
Jack coughed. “Lord Byron?”
“No… I’m not quite sure that’s it…”
