She stiffened. “Wh-Why?”
“Because what happened between us was…unexpected.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised by that statement. “I would have thought a man like you would have indulged in such pleasures with the subjects of his paintings many times.”
He chuckled a little. “I have, yes. But that was usually after weeks of flirting as I discussed the project with them. I knew the encounters were likely to happen before the carriages pulled up to my door.”
“And Oliver and I stumbled into your life with no preamble,” she said. “I see.”
“Don’t mistake me,” he said, dabbing his brush into the paint and tapping it against the canvas gently. “The desire I feel for you is very welcome, but it wasn’t what I thought I’d be experiencing twenty-four hours ago when I was reading in my study, innocent as a lamb.”
She snorted out a laugh and it made him smile at her again. “I don’t think you have ever been innocent as a lamb, Ezra. I have that sense.”
“Hmmm. Well, either way, I’d like to know more about the woman who has inspired this passion in me and in Oliver. As well as the burst of creativity that has been painting for myself, rather than merely as a commission.”
She shifted. “I admit, the idea that I inspire passion or creativity or anything at all is a rather foreign concept. My husband didn’t seem to think any of those things.”
His brow furrowed but he didn’t look up. She thought it was to allow her some privacy with her reaction, her feelings. She appreciated that.
“Then he was a fool,” he said softly, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. “I remember him a little, actually. And I’m certain that assessment is accurate."
She found herself smiling a little now at his gentle championing. “Well, he is a dead fool now.” She sighed. “It was an arranged marriage, of course. That is the way of our world usually. I wanted to make it work—I hoped for something more to come of it. But he was not interested in loving his wife, not when he could love any other woman who crossed his path and winked at him.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and cleared her throat. “By the time he died, we were strangers. He didn’t even stay in the house anymore. He hardly ever said my name.”
Ezra looked up. “I’m sorry, Anna. Was it hurtful?”
“At first, of course.” She shook her head. “I was innocent when we married. I had told myself fairytale stories. But as the years went by, that pain faded a great deal. I began to take pleasure in what independence existed. And what friendships could be made.”
“Friendships,” Ezra repeated, and the way he drew the word out made her know he, too, was thinking of Oliver. “You’re talking about him.”
Him. There was only one him. Only had been for so very long. She nodded. “Yes. Oliver.” She lifted her gaze to Ezra’s. “I always liked him. I won’t deny it.”
“How could you not?” Ezra said with a little shiver. “That face. That voice.”
She shivered, too. “It does rumble through you, doesn’t it? But it was more than that. He has always been so kind to me, whether he was helping me into a carriage or…or whether he found me weeping over what should have been.”
Ezra swallowed. “I see.”
“Nothing happened,” she hastened to add, as if she were protecting Oliver’s reputation. “He was comforting. Gentle. We talked. It only drew me closer to him. Once my husband died and the funds began to dry up, the servants began to quit. But never Oliver. He took the reduced salary without a word and even took over a great many duties that had been abandoned. He organized my household and invitations. He became so much more than my driver.”
“Your friend,” Ezra said.
She nodded. “And of course, I must repeat that he is so very handsome.”
“He is that,” Ezra said, rough. It made her think of his expression when Oliver had been sucking him. It was rather comforting, actually, to be able to share that attraction to someone who understood.
“It seems at least once, though, he was more than your friend. You mentioned the Donville Masquerade last night.”
She sighed. She’d thought this subject might come up at some point. But there was no use hiding now, not with a man who had already been so intimately involved with them both.
“My husband used to take me there every week,” she explained. “He said it was for us, but it wasn’t. Ultimately, I did take lovers. But none were like the person I thought was a stranger in a dark hallway one night.”
When Ezra shifted with desire, she quickly recounted that heady night. At the end, she shrugged. “I probably always knew it was him,” she finished. “His voice…the voice is so recognizable. That rough timber, the tone of it, the way it draws you closer? It’s very…him. But I wanted to pretend. And once I fully realized that it was Oliver, what could I do? To reveal the truth would threaten both our futures. So I left it alone and so did he. Until it was safe.”
Ezra smiled. “I’m glad that you felt safe here.”
“I did,” she said. “But I also know that…our relationship will soon change. He can’t remain my servant for long.”
She pursed her mouth as Ezra pierced her with a sharp look. She really didn’t want to talk about the horrors that might still come. The dangers. No one could save her, not in the long run, she didn’t think. She didn’t want that horrible future to come to ruin the present.
