“Yes.” Rebecca’s smile turned feline as she returned to her armchair. “I am assembling a private collection to rouse the jaded. Paintings of pleasure, but with taste.”
“Paintings of pleasure,” Darcy slowly repeated, wondering if she understood precisely what Madam Rebecca was about.
“I want patrons painted in the act of tupping, masks upon their faces, bodies honest and beautiful. The works will hang in a room where only certain eyes may look. Think Renaissance—flesh with reverence and appetite—yet modern in its daring. Do you know an engraving after Titian, a woman punished for desire, her lovers tormenting her with pleasure? That sort of severity and grace combined.”
Darcy’s stomach executed a quick and unhelpful turn. The room seemed to tilt by a degree. She held very still and drew air through her nose. “I… I… I do not know what to say.”
Rebecca laughed, not unkindly. “If you are a virgin with delicate sensibilities, my dear, this is not for you.”
“I…”Oh God. How could she paint anyonenaked, so intimately? “What a shocking and scandalous proposition! Surely no one is expected to take such work home to complete. ”
“Of course not,” Rebecca replied smoothly. “I shall provide a private and elegant room for your exclusive use here. No one will enter without your permission—only the servant I assign to you, and she will be entirely discreet. May I have your answer?”
“I would like a few days to think about it.”
Rebecca stood. “I am afraid waiting a few days is not in my plans. Thank you for coming here to see me. It must have taken great courage. Please allow me to escort you out.”
Oh God, I cannot lose this opportunity! “Wait,” Darcy said, too fast, then gentled her voice. “I am to paint only. I am not required to participate?”
“I would never dare to ask a lady to participate in the debauchery that happens here. Only to look,” Rebecca said with a smile. “To look and record with your paintbrushes. Your virtue is safe under my roof, and so is your reputation, as long as you keep your identity secret. I promise you this.”
A deep tremor went through Darcy’s heart, and she stiffened her spine. “I can do it.”
“Very well.” Rebecca resumed her seat, lifted her glass, and inclined it toward Darcy in a small toast. “You will not regret this. Let us assess you now.”
“Assess?” Darcy repeated, blinking. “What does that mean?”
“It means I must see you look at nakedness and not faint.” Rebecca emptied her drink, set down her glass and rose in one graceful sweep and moved to the door. “Come.”
Heart pounding, Darcy stood and followed Madam Rebecca. They went along a short passage where the carpet softened each step. Rebecca opened a door without knocking and stood aside. Darcy’s breath caught, and for a wild moment, she felt faint.
Good heavens!
Within, upon a chaise as comfortable as sin, lounged the Earl of Raine. His cravat hung loose; his waistcoat was discarded. He sat with an indolent sprawl, long legs splayed, a study in dangerous ease. Before him, on her knees, a nearly bare woman bent with languorous attention, her hair spilling over her shoulders like poured wine.
Oh God!
CHAPTER 7
Darcy’s heart was racing too fast. The vibrant, decadent room suddenly seemed very small. She did not make a sound. She simply stood and looked. Rebecca’s soft laugh lingered in the doorway like perfume, but Darcy scarcely heard it. The sight before her had cut the breath from her lungs.
The earl, as he was… appeared shockingly beautiful and sensual as he lounged with decadent ease, his long legs splayed as if idleness were an art he had perfected. Awareness washed through her so swiftly it felt like heat and vertigo together. Of all men to find in such a place.
Rebecca’s voice drew a silken line between them. “Raine, this is Red.”
He turned his head and regarded Darcy through heavy-lidded interest. “Red,” he drawled, the word lazy on his tongue. “Is this your artist, Rebecca?”
“Yes,” Darcy said before the madam could answer.
“She looks like a little frightened rabbit about to bolt. Do you not see she is about to collapse, Rebecca? Why did you bring this chit here?”
“The sample she sent showed immense talent.”
A low, derisive scoff escaped him. “You will have to select someone else, I’m afraid. This chit will not do.”
Darcy lifted her chin. “Iamyour artist, and a very brilliant one, I might add.”
“Oh? And you are aware of everything your work will entail?”
