Walking to the small table at the opposite window, she lifted the glass of water and drank. The now warm liquid slid down her throat, and she grimaced. Maybe she should switch to a landscape today. At least the sun was shining, albeit inconsistently, which did light up the dull brown leaves on the trees to a warm honey. She set down the water and moved to stand in front of her flawed painting. She didn’t want to paint a landscape. She wanted, no, needed to create an accurate portrayal of a male figure. She cupped her elbow with one hand as she chewed on the nail of her other, her gaze moving to the sketches of the gardener then back to the two men most prominent in her painting. What could it be? Throwing her hands up in exasperation, she spun around and stalked to her supply chest.
The answer had to be in the book. Quickly, she opened the chest and pushed aside paint, brushes, rags, and other tools to reveal the book she’d borrowed from Joanna. Though the fake cover title wasThe Education of the Feminine Species, inside revealed the true purpose to beThe Illustrated Pleasures of Seduction. She pulled the large tome from its hiding place and brought it over to the painting. She had to be missing something.
She sat on her stool and opened the book to a random page. She was rarely disappointed, since almost every page had a drawing of a naked man in some sort of position. Joanna had been hesitant to let her borrow it because she didn’t realize that studying great art meant studying naked men and women. It was about the lines, shadows, and nuances, not the lack of clothing. Whoever had illustrated the book must have had a nude male model.
She stopped for a moment.Shewas supposed to have a nude male model this winter, but so far there had been no word that Lord Sommerset had arrived in Bedford. There was bound to be word because the village was not large and a new earl taking up residence would induce much gossip. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Disappointment filled her at the thought. She had so hoped to finally understand what she was missing instead of staring at other drawings until her eyes crossed.
With a sigh, she examined the drawing on the page she’d opened. The nude man lounged on his back while a nude woman sat on his pelvis. Maybe it was the position? Flipping through a few pages, she found a man standing. It was a back view that was almost unimpeded by the woman’s dangling legs or her arms wrapped around his neck. Carefully, she studied every line, trying to find fault with what she’d painted since one man in her piece had most of his back to the viewer. The only difference she could find was that her gentleman was clothed.
Unfortunately, since the book was about what men and women did to procreate, there was only one full frontal view of a male without the woman hiding the male’s body. She rifled back to the beginning pages and found the single page. She studied the legs, arms, torso, and neck then viewed her work again. It had been this very sketch that had emboldened her to attempt larger male figures. But she’d obviously failed. What if the sketch wasn’t accurate?
That hadn’t occurred to her before. The thought brought tears of frustration to her eyes. For the first time, she wanted Lord Sommerset to fulfill their bargain, even if it meant marrying him in the end. Anything to solve her dilemma. Slamming the book closed, she strode back to her chest, lifted the lid, and dropped it inside.
A knock at the door had her closing her chest with a thud. When her sister didn’t enter as usual, she glanced out the window to see if it might be the gardener, but he still labored at his task. That meant it was either her mother or father. Quickly, she untied her painting apron and dropped it on the chest to keep it from becoming a topic of conversation.
Another knock sounded even as she walked toward the door. “You may come in.”
The door opened just as she reached it, and Lord Sommerset stepped across the threshold.
“You!”
He grinned, his eyes crinkling with mischief. “Me.”
A strange leap of joy filled her before panic took over. Without further thought, she grabbed his arm and yanked him forward as she slammed the door shut. It was hardly a welcome, but after years of protecting her reputation, she wasn’t about to hasten a marriage she hoped to avoid until the last possible brush stroke.
It was as if she’d conjured him into being there, and a shiver raced up her spine. She rounded on him. “What are you doing here? And dressed like that?”
The man had the audacity to smirk. “I suppose I could have skirted around your servants naked, but it is a bit chilly.”
At the idea of him running across the garden without clothes, heat filled her cheeks, but she brazened it out. “No, I don’t suppose having you arrive chilled to the bone would make for a good sitting.” She gave an exaggerated sigh as if it were too bad that he couldn’t have arrived naked, which wasn’t the case. In fact, she was surprised to see him at all. “I had not heard that you had arrived at Sunnydale Manor.”
He unbuttoned his burnt sienna greatcoat and hung it on a hook near the door next to her Prussian blue spencer before answering her. “I don’t imagine you have. I just arrived, and since Harewood is under the weather and his parents are making calls, I decided to take the opportunity to let you know I’m ready to be yourobjet d’art.”
He no longer smiled, but there was a twinkle in his warm crystal brown eyes that was difficult to ignore. She purposefully studied him like she would any scene she was about to draw. He wore his usual white shirt and cravat. Over it was a beige waistcoat that matched his pantaloons perfectly, not to mention set off the shade of his skin. The tan tailcoat he wore over it emphasized the medium tones of his hair. Finally she nodded. “Yes, I think you’ll do.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “I’ll do?”
She gave a short nod, barely able to keep from grinning at his affront. “Yes, you’ll do nicely.” She pointed to a straight back chair set next to the small fireplace. “You can stand over there.”
His brows lowered as if puzzled, but he moved to where she indicated.
As she pulled clean paper from her pile on her table, her heart started to race. Now she’d be able to discover what she had done so inaccurately that it made men laugh. To think the solution would be found because of an unexpected and unwanted proposal. She reached for her cedar pencil then halted.
Snapping her head up, she pierced him with her gaze. “How did you know where my studio was or if I’d be here?” Tension filled her. “Did you ask a servant?”
He stood behind the wooden chair, one large hand resting on the back. “Of course not. I’m far too clever for that.”
Now he had her attention. “Clever, how?”
“It was quite serendipitous, actually. Before leaving town, I stopped in at Monsieur Armand’s for a few macarons and the Duchess of Northwick was there with her husband.”
That Joanna was at Monsieur Armand’s was no surprise. He made her favorite ice cream, and she was probably once again pestering the man for his recipe. Either that, or arranging to have said ice cream transported to her new home in Peterborough.
His gaze, which had been taking in her studio, came back to meet hers. “We exchanged pleasantries, and I told her I would be visiting Harewood. She insisted that I call on your family, which I promised I would. Then she explained that you would spend the entire winter holed up in your art studio and she’d only see you at Christmastide when she arrived. I, of course, asked how it was that you had an art studio and she explained that this,” he held both hands out to encompass the space, “used to be a Grecian temple that your mother had renovated into a studio for you shortly after you recovered from a severe illness.”
It was so like Joanna to put the event in a positive light. Her severe illness had been her own fault. Rushing out onto an almost frozen pond had been a well-learned lesson. “But that doesn’t explain how you found it or knew I would be here.” Though he said he hadn’t asked a servant outright, they were smart enough to figure things out.
“That was your sister as well. She explained to Northwick where your studio was and planned to show him. As far as you being here…” He shrugged. “I hoped it would be the case since the duchess said that you spend whole days in your studio.”
