“I should be used to our prescribed torture, Cilia. If I’m late, I’m to model for you as you paint. Then you’ll talk to me.”
Peering around my easel, I glared at him. “Am I wrong to be fearful of your delay? And you’re more than a little tardy. Weeks overstay is more than a miscalculation.”
Overstay. Overstay. Drat. I tried hard not to have my syllables hiss and expose how anxious I’d been. With no word from Felton or my baby sister, I was adrift in a house of strangers, ones who didn’t want my presence at Felton’s new London home, or in his life.
Half holding my breath, I made my tone as soft as possible. “Repeat your excuse this time. I want to see if it remains the same.”
Felton raised his hand and hit his neck with the torch. He groaned. Hidden beneath his hair, the skin at the base of his head was so sensitive. It only had a little scarring. I think that was why he liked his hair hanging low and his collars high.
I was glad the torch wasn’t lit as I had wanted. Would be a shame to burn such a pretty man, tall and thin. Pity he wasn’t more reliable.
“If you want more specifics of my delay, it was in service to a friend, Cecilia. He needed me.”
“Do any of these friends realize that you have obligations, a family . . . umm . . . children, a sister that needs you?”
“And what of you, Cecilia Lance? My Lady Gantry, are you telling me that you missed me too?The husband on paperis what you called me during our last tiff.The skillful fortune hunterwas the nickname you gave me at Warwick. No doubt, words from my father’s influence.”
Lord Tramel had jokes . . . some were witty. I could see now how they could be seen as cruel or bitter with the bad blood between father and son.
Felton tapped the shaft of the knife on the bridge of his nose. “My particular favorites are yourmarriage of convenience,partner in crime, and youroccasional bedmate. I must say, I do fancy the bedmate part the best.”
Closing my eyes, I turned away.
Though each slight was true and mirrored our understanding of when we had schemed in that hot Demeraran ball, nothing captured how I felt now, how I longed for Felton when things were quiet and still. How his presence calmed me when things were noisy and I felt out of control.
A discernible ache fomented in my chest. How were we to grow closer if we were so often apart? “I’m shamed at my words, my lord. That’s my frustration at our circumstances.”
He tapped my knife along his smooth lips. “Frustrated, Cilia? You sounded quite certain of these truths.”
“A thing said in anger, my lord, shouldn’t be repeated.”
“But you’re angry now, Lady Gantry.”
“How can I sustain such volatile emotions? I’m painting. You’re posing. We’re steady friends again. I’d say we remain a suitable match. Hapless and hopeless.”
He tilted his head a little. A smile bloomed and I could imagine him with a bit more color like an emerald waistcoat with purple threading, purple like the jacarandas, the flowers we wed beneath. With his onyx waistcoat, he looked dressed to leave again.
“So, what’s the next thing to take your attention? Are your preferred mistresses skin and bone, the likes of which Lady Jane thinks well of? She starves herself, you know. Barely finishes a plate.”
He chuckled, that soft, silly look shadowing his eyes. “You know I like a snuggling waist and an armful of backside. I adore you as you are. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. More so when you smile.”
The heat in his gaze said he’d moved past just acknowledging my presence. In his eyes, we were together, not fussing or fighting but swept away where no words were heard, just the banging of a headboard, the bating of his heavy moans, and a barrage of boom-boom hearts.
Say no, Cecilia Chari.
Make him leave.
Forget how you long for him.
Capturing my gaze, not letting go, he stepped around my makeshift table and kissed my forehead, then walked out the door.
CHAPTER5
CECILIA—PAINTING FORPLEASURE
The silence of my studio disappeared.
Footfalls paced out my door.
