Page 11 of Her Rogue to Ruin
The prospect was tantalizing but ultimately too dangerous. His family adored her, and he could not ruin the rapport they’d built with her because of an attempted seduction that might very well go entirely pear-shaped.
So, he would ask her to complete the portrait Mrs. Grove requested.
According to Selkirk, it was the best course, and he respected his friend’s judgement. Going to one of the Royal Society fellows he knew for a nude portrait hardly held any appeal. Stripping every thread of clothing from his body for Portia Hastings to study and turn into one of her colorful pieces of art was a much more enticing prospect.
Now she only had to agree. He’d offer her double the commission his mother had agreed upon for her own and his sisters’ portraits. This matter was delicate. He just hoped she wouldn’t find it distasteful or offensive.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” His mother’s call slowed Phin’s pace.
She was approaching from the back of the house, and he knew she’d been in the garden. When the weather was temperate, there was no place she preferred to be.
“I was looking for Lady Hastings.”
Her dark brows winged up. “So am I. But you won’t find her in your study today. She and Louisa commandeered my morning room.”
Phin offered his mother his arm with a bent elbow. “Then shall we go together?”
She took his proffered arm and eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you seeking her out?”
“A commission.” He smiled back at her.
“I knew you’d decide to sit for a portrait once you saw the quality of her work. She’s a remarkable talent.”
“Indeed, she is.”
“You must wait for the girls’ paintings. I did commission those first.”
“You’re assuming it’s for me.” Phin told himself the statement wasn’t a thorough deception. The painting was for Mrs. Grove, after all. But if Portia did agree to paint him, it was a piece of artwork he never intended his mother, or anyone but his mistress, to see.
And Portia, of course. That thought made him swallow hard, and his mother didn’t fail to notice.
“You have been so anxious of late.” She patted his arm. “Perhaps you should consider sitting for her. It’s quite tranquil to force oneself to quiet and stop flitting about.”
“Unless one happens to be Louisa.”
They both chuckled. “You’re not quite as restive as Lou,” his mother assured him. “But I tell you, I planned out a whole new section of the garden in my head while Lady Hastings painted away. The most calming hours I’ve had in years. She has that demeanor about her.”
“What demeanor?”
“Calming. Don’t you think so?”
Phin fought the urge to burst into laughter and pursed his lips together in a thoughtful expression instead. “I shall take your recommendation under advisement,” Phin told her. “But why are you seeking her out now?”
“Oh, an invitation.” His mother glanced at him. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m inviting her to come with us when we decamp.”
Phin slowed and his mother matched his pace. “You’re inviting her to Seastow?”
The family usually headed to their Sussex estate in October and remained there for months. Since it was relatively close to London, Phin sometimes returned to the city to visit his club or attend to some matter of business. If all went well with Mrs. Grove, he’d expected to return to visit her.
The prospect of Portia there, in the place he’d grown up, made his head spin.
He could easily picture her in their conservatory that was overrun with palms and flowering vines, or in the library where he’d all but lived during winter visits as a boy, or in the nearby woods he’d run to when his father’s mood turned dark.
And it seemed strangely right to imagine her there.
“Phineas?”
His mother had been speaking and he’d gotten lost in his musings.
