Page 22 of Temptations of a Wallflower
Her chin came up another notch. “Let’s see what they have planned. I know we can face it.”
Many other people in her position would have turned tail and fled, but she refused. She might be a genteel lady, but one with a hidden backbone of iron.
He escorted her up the stairs, liking the feel of her on his arm as they took each step, well-matched in height and pace. He usually had to shorten his strides to accommodate a woman, but not with Lady Sarah.
Typical landscapes adorned the walls of the stairwell, but Jeremy didn’t pay them much mind. He was fuzzy-headed from having Lady Sarah so close.
He struggled to converse like a normal human being. “Admittedly, I know very little about the East,” he confessed.
“Likewise,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. “But I’ve always longed to travel there. Just the names of the places sound so wonderful. Peking. Baghdad. Bombay. Wonderful things must happen there.”
“We’ll have to resort to using our imaginations,” he answered.
“My imagination has a considerable capacity,” she replied, her smile growing slightly more secretive.
What did that little smile mean? And what, exactly,werethe limits of her creativity?
They finally reached the landing, where the trio exchanged barely suppressed grins. “It’s just this way, Lady Sarah, Vicar,” Lord Lynde said, waving them toward a nearby long gallery.
A dozen people milled through the exhibit, all of them likely denizens of St. James and Mayfair, judging by their fine clothing and upright posture. They milled in couples or alone, men and women. The women were all accompanied by men.
Paintings and sculptures were arrayed in the gallery, the sheer curtains drawn to keep damaging light to a relative minimum. Placards describing each piecewere mounted beside the artwork, and a few gentlemen examined them using spectacles or quizzing glasses. People spoke in low voices, as befitting a museum, though it was a privately owned collection.
“What do you know of the owner of these pieces?” Lady Sarah asked Lady Donleigh.
“Only that he is a man of particular tastes,” Lady Donleigh answered. “As you shall see.”
“Indeed, most particular,” echoed Miss Green.
Not much of an answer.
“Please,” Lord Lynde said, gesturing them forward. “See for yourself.” He seemed on the verge of laughing aloud, scarcely restraining himself.
Frowning, Jeremy escorted Lady Sarah to the first displayed painting. Together, they peered at it.
“Chinese,” she said quietly, tapping the description on the placard. The faces and dress of the people depicted in the artwork revealed that it hailed from the Far East.
Jeremy started, and stared. DearGod . . .
The painting showed a woman playing some kind of stringed musical instrument that rested on the ground. A man sat just beside her. They were in some kind of garden pavilion, draped with flowers. But Jeremy’s gaze went straight to the middle of the painting. The female musician’s robes had fallen open, revealing her bare breasts, pointed with cherry-colored nipples. And the man seated behind her was currently in the process of gently pinching those nipples.
Jeremy tore his gaze from the painting to stare at the other artwork. The larger paintings and sculptures showed couples in various states of nudity, displayingacrobatic skills as they coiled their bodies together, limbs entwined, heads thrown back with expressions of ecstasy.
Good Christ—it was an exhibition of erotic art.
“Oh, my,” Lady Sarah breathed beside him, apparently reaching the same conclusion.
Jeremy threw an accusing look over at Lady Donleigh and her companions. All three of them had their hands pressed to their mouths, trying to smother their laughter.
Two emotions hazed his vision. Anger on behalf of Lady Sarah, that these three jackasses would dare insult her like this, using her obvious virtue and lack of experience as the brunt of their crude joke. If only he could stride over to Lord Lynde and plant his fist right in the nobleman’s face, then bodily shove the women out onto the street.
But he couldn’t deny his other reaction. Pure, unadulterated lust. It roared in his ears and taunted him, as though throwing his own appetites back into his face. His cock surged to attention. Thank God he wore black rather than white breeches, so he didn’t treat everyone to the sight of his rousing erection.
He quickly returned his gaze to Lady Sarah. Her cheeks were stained pink, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. She looked astonished but also . . . intrigued.
“They’ve had their jest,” he whispered to her, after clearing his throat. “Time we leave.”
“That’s what they want,” she said after a moment. She glanced over at her three so-called friends. “To see me run out, my face on fire. Or else they want me to swoon with the shock to my fragile sensibilities.”
