Page 15 of Her Rogue to Ruin
“I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to do as I said you must. Refuse me if my request offended you in any way.”
Portia frowned. “I’m not offended.”
“It’s alright if you are.”
“I’m not a prude, Lord Pemberton.”
Head tipped to the side, he assessed her, a quick flick of his gaze from the wisps of hair at her temples to the tips of her boots and then up again.
“I never imagined you were.” He crossed his arms, his mouth curved in that soft smile that left her desperate to know exactly what hehadimagined about her. “Since you’re a widow, I knew that discussing such matters would not scandalize you. But completing such a portrait might if others ever learned of the commission.”
“Yes, exactly,” Portia agreed. As a noblewoman working among other nobles in the highest ranks of society, her reputation must always remain untarnished.
“I’d never wish to endanger your reputation, you understand.” He took one step closer. “They’d never hear a word about the artist from me. Of that, I can assure you. I am a man of discretion.”
She believed him. And mercy how she wanted to help him, to please him.
He ducked to catch her gaze and Portia realized she’d tucked her head down as she always did when deep in contemplation.
“I accept your refusal,” he told her quietly. “As I promised I would. And I won’t try to persuade you.”
“Good. I won’t be persuaded.” She knew she was stating the fact because she feared it wasn’t true.
He need only try to change her mind, and she suspected all of her arguments against the proposal would crumble.
A warm, genuine grin flashed across his face, and Portia knew she had to leave. Had to get away from the power this man possessed.
“ I have an engagement this evening and must go. Good day, Lord Pemberton.”
“Try not to think too badly of me, Lady Hastings, for I think most highly of you. As does my mother and all of my siblings. You brighten the house every time you show up with your paints and brushes.”
“Thank you.” Portia collected her satchel and sketchbook and headed for the door.
To her shock, he followed her over.
“Don’t forget this,” he said roughly, almost a whisper.
Portia turned back to find him holding up the paintbrush he’d retrieved. She couldn’t even recall letting go of it.
His gaze held hers as she closed her fingers around the wooden handle. It was still warm from his touch.
“My mother wished to speak to you before you go,” he told her, and his gaze flicked to her lips. “You won’t tell her what we discussed?”
“Of course not.”
“Much obliged.” He tried for his usual pleasant smile, but there was too much turmoil in his gaze to make it believable. Something disturbed him beyond her refusal to paint a scandalous portrait. Something about her.
Did he feel the same magnetic pull between them that she did?
She wanted to ask him. The words perched on the tip of her tongue. But even in her new determination to be daring and bold, she knew that whatever was between them was dangerous.
She’d never lost her heart to any man, and now, without him even trying, some part of her yearned to be his.
CHAPTER4
“I’mglad you’re accompanying me. I’m eager for you to meet Lady Granford.” Phin’s mother peered out the carriage window as they approached Belgrave Square.
“I already know her husband. Visits the same fencing salon as Selkirk and I do.”
