A server finally came, and Felton ordered a feast. Whatever Gladstone did, Cecilia would say before they arrived in Warwick.
Yet if she confessed that something egregious had been done to her, something that hurt her, Gladstone would pay. The buffoon might lose his life. Felton did love Cilia enough to kill.
CHAPTER36
CECILIA—ARTAPPRECIATION
Finished. The Drury Lane commission was complete. I stood on my scaffold, admiring my handiwork.
The sky had that distant feel I wanted, with hints of red. It blended in the gray to make the eye sense that something stirred, in the offing.
Stretching, Felton arose from his seat in the audience. “Cecilia, are you dizzy? Are you in need? You didn’t eat much of your biscuits.”
“Better than dizzy. I’m done.” I lifted my arms and gave a blood curdling yell. “Done! What do you think?”
He took his time, his head turning left then right. Everything grew loud as he clapped like his hands would fall off. “You’ve done it. It’s brilliant.”
Felton’s reaction startled me. He sounded like the duke with such vigor in his tone.
Tottering, I almost lost my balance. The next thing I knew, Felton’s hands were on mine like he’d anticipated my going wobbly.
“You’re dizzy from this accomplishment, Cecilia.”
Before I could say otherwise, he’d spirited me over his shoulder and off the platform. Then he made me sit on the side of the stage. My feet literally dangled into the orchestra pit.
In my palms, he put a biscuit. It had a sugary glaze. Then he poured a mug of coffee. “It’s cold now. But it should restore you.”
I blinked at him feeding me treats like before.
His high-bridged nose lifted, and a smirk filled his face. “I might be overdoing it, but I missed doing things for you.”
“Does that mean you’ll be leaving soon?”
He frowned and I felt awful. “Sorry, Felton. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
He picked a piece of the crust from his basket and buttered it, then he lifted it to my lips. “Cilia, I just need to work harder.”
His finger touched my mouth. It sent a flush to my face. My pulse rushed.
The buttery joy, he pushed across my lips. “Let me have a better look at your canvas.”
Relief and disappointment swept over me as he moved away. With his back to me, I couldn’t see if his countenance filled with joy or disapproval.
He was silent for a long time, too silent.
“What is it, my lord?”
“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you finish a piece in my presence. Sadly, you never finish the Roman soldier piece. We get distracted.”
Kisses and hugs and that thing that felt like love, surrounding me when I was in his arms. It was the best and worst distraction. “My lord, that painting was silly.”
“Never that. It has given me fond memories.”
With his hands to his hips, he turned to me. “I hope Tramel didn’t laugh too much.”
“Only a little, Felton.”
“This was a treat for me, Cilia, watching you move, the decisions you make about the pressure and colors you put to your brushes. It all amazes me.”
