“Edith, I think you’re lovely.” He cupped her face gently, but she wasn’t sure she enjoyed the contact or the fact he addressed her in such a familiar manner. Although since he’d seen her playing cricket half-naked, he’d feel allowed to use her Christian name. “Your face is exquisite, and your lips…” He pressed a thumb against her bottom lip, and she jolted, stepping away from his reach.
Daphne laughed. “Heavens, stay calm. No need to be so jittery.” She strolled around the messy room with ease, avoiding the scattered items without looking. “Valentine is an artist and a professional. Everything he does has a purely artistic reason.”
“Will you pose for me?” Valentine studied her face with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “Please say yes. I can’t pay you a proper salary, but I’ll give you two sovereigns for the trouble.”
“What sort of painting do you have in mind?” she asked, intrigued despite herself.
“Please, Valentine, paint Edith as one of your goddesses.” Daphne winked at her. “You won’t regret it.”
“I’ll show you.” Valentine took Edith’s hand and led her to the next room.
A series of paintings lined a wall. Nude paintings. Well, not exactly nude. The models wore very flimsy, transparent tunics that added an ethereal touch to their well-portrayed curves.
She swallowed past the knot in her throat. Goodness.
Scandalous poses aside, the paintings were extraordinary. The combination of beautiful lines, colours, shadows, and light created a dramatic effect, enhancing the beauty of the models. Even their expressions held an otherworldly quality that mesmerised her.
There were Hera, holding a sceptre, Artemis, surrounded by moonlight, and Calypso, sitting by the sea. The sea… not her favourite view. Just the sight of the sea, lakes, rivers, and streams turned her belly cold.
She paused at Athena’s painting. In the painting, the woman was standing with her hand wrapped around a long spear. The veil of fine muslin that covered her body—or rather, uncovered it—truly made her look like a goddess, powerful and striking. Her hair flowed down to her waist in luscious curls, and her expression was a daring one. A true goddess of war.
“What do you think?” Daphne said.
“They’re stunning but revealing.” She hoped she didn’t sound like a prude.
The paintings were undeniably pieces of art, not at all vulgar or brash. They depicted the human body as the ultimate work of art, exalted by Valentine’s expert hand. But to be one of Valentine’s goddesses was another matter. They were still nude paintings.
“This is about expressing yourself,” Valentine said, turning her towards another painting. “About finding who you really are. These paintings are the mirrors of the models’ souls. Look. This is Aphrodite.”
Edith’s face flamed. Heavens. Surrounded by red petals and the colours of dawn, Aphrodite reclined on a red Chesterfield sofa, her auburn hair reaching past her waist. One hand was squeezed between her thighs, and her droopy eyes didn’t leave doubt on what she was doing, unashamedly so. Still, it was likely one of the most beautiful paintings Edith had ever seen.
“Which goddess would I be?” she asked.
“Astrea.” Valentine showed her a drawing of a beautiful blue-haired goddess shining with starlight. “She was known as the Star Maiden or the Star Goddess. Your delicate lines and wide eyes inspire me to paint you as my Astrea.”
“You’d be perfect,” Daphne said.
Edith was tempted. Of course she was. Being portrayed in one of these extraordinary paintings would be an honour.
“But I’m not sure I want to get undressed.”
Daphne smiled. “I posed for him as well. Not for one of his goddesses, but it was a nude painting. You can’t imagine the freedom and confidence the experience gave me.”
“These paintings never leave my atelier.” Valentine gestured around. “I don’t sell them. They’re for me only. I show them to a very restricted number of friends, but the goddesses never, ever leave this room. You won’t be seen by anyone but me.”
“This isn’t about propriety.” Daphne put a hand on her shoulder. “This is about freedom, happiness, about expressing yourself, about fighting your fears.”
“Fears?” That piqued her interest.
“Yes. Posing for a painting so daring is liberating, empowering. All your fears will be gone forever.”
Well, that was intriguing. She glanced at the confident Aphrodite again. The goddess stared at the viewer as if to say, ‘I don’t give a toss about what you think of me. I don’t think of you at all.’
“I’ll do it.”
