“Is everything you’re saying just to bed me?”
A smile bloomed. “Not just to be with you, but I do want you. Always have, since the moment we met.”
“Do you know what it is I want?”
“Adventure. That’s why we wed. It’s why you want to forgive me. I’ll continue to tread lightly until my wife gives me an invitation to her bed. Nothing but complete surrender will do.”
“Felton?”
He beamed at me with his lips curling. “I mean that respectfully. My Lady Gantry is due all respect. And I’ve missed her, missed her terribly. I’m patient. Don’t stay up too long. My bedchamber is always open for you.” He left. The studio door shut, easy and slow, but I jittered like it had been slammed.
The man was too patient, and I was the opposite. Something needed to change.
Felton and I were either too finely matched or one of us had to buckle.
I hoped it wouldn’t be me.
CHAPTER6
CECILIA—PAINTING FORSURRENDER
Two weeks of handpicked treats nightly fed to me by Felton had me waiting for him to show.
The foot rubs.
That was new and delightful. He tried that yesterday, and it was joyous. I hadn’t painted a new landscape. The anticipation of his visit to my studio . . . my closet . . . had me too bound in knots for my art to be free.
The mockery of the Roman soldier was on display as if that was all I could do. I touched it up, adding flourishes here and there.
The vinegary smell of my oil paint filled the tiny space. If I opened the window, I’d freeze.
Looking at the door, hoping for a knock, I rubbed my neck. The tension and excitement of Felton coming wouldn’t stop. Seeing him so attentive to his daughters, and to me, made me want to show him my true art.
If he saw it, perhaps he’d give me a bigger room like Tramel had done. I missed the father-in-law’s visits. He came often when Felton was away. No one discussed art like him.
What if he was right about Felton never appreciating my talents?
Knock. Knock.The door rattled like cannon fire.
It gave my heart a start, then my lungs fluttered.
“May I come in, Lady Gantry?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“My aunt Nelly and her Gladstone brood have left.” His hands were to his back. His formal coat was gone, but his white shirt and onyx vest were buttoned up high. “You don’t have to stay in here, Cecilia. You could join us. Jane’s pianoforte playing is much improved.”
“Has she caught someone’s eye? The girls say your aunt has gathered candidates far and wide.”
“Aunt Nelly has, but they must survive Tramel’s interview. That usually doesn’t go well.”
“He’s is a good judge of character. She should listen.”
Felton’s friendly face faded. It was only a moment, but the sourness of his feelings for his father showed. “He’s a judge of something. But tonight is not about him. Tonight is about you—and this.”
He lifted a silver bowl from behind his back that seemed to have frost on the side. Humming like he held a treasure, he whipped a spoon from his pocket. Then he approached crossing the magical boundary of my table. “Close your eyes.”
“Felton.”
