Page 37 of The Art of Sinning
“To change my clothes!” she called back as she disappeared into the hall.
As Jeremy struggled not to show his triumph, the earl shot him a confused look. “Am I missing something?”
So, so much.He forced a shrug. “You know women. They can be contrary.”
“Yvette more than anyone.” Blakeborough frowned. “I’m forever stepping awry with her.”
“It’s the same between me and my sister, trust me.” Jeremy turned for the windows, still fighting to put out the fire Yvette had roused in his blood. “Perhaps it’s the same between all brothers and sisters.”
The earl took a seat on a nearby settee. “I don’t know. She and Samuel got along quite well until Mother died. And then everything fell apart.”
“Oh?” Jeremy pulled the curtains more fully open. “Your sister told me a bit about your mother’s death. But she didn’t say much about your brother, other than that he was a scoundrel.”
“He didn’t become one until after Mother died. That’s when he began sliding further and further into degradation, until there was no going back. It was as if he blamed Mother for dying, and then took it out on every woman he met.”
“Meanwhile, Yvette blames your father for not being at your mother’s side.”
A muscle worked in the earl’s jaw. “Yes. And probably she blames me, too, for not making him stay.”
“I don’t think so. She’s certainly said nothing of the kind to me.”
Blakeborough’s gaze narrowed on him. “I don’t know when she would have. It’s not as if the two of you have spent more than twenty minutes alone together all told, is it?”
“True,” he said lightly. “Now, what do you think of having Yvette stand by the...”
Jeremy launched into a discussion of settings that he hoped would distract the earl from his suspicions.
But thunderation, these secret nights of theirs were already harder to hide than Jeremy had anticipated. He only hoped that he could get most of the work—for both paintings—done quickly. Because eventually Blakeborough was going to figure out that Jeremy and Yvette had another project on the side. And when he did, there would be hell to pay.
Which was why Jeremy had to put some distance between him and Yvette, both physically and emotionally. If he wanted to get his masterpiece, he must be professional, even in their private evenings.
The earl mustn’t ever guess that Jeremy had one iota of desire for his sister.
Nine
“Are we boring you, my lady?” a voice sounded from the nether reaches of Yvette’s consciousness.
She jerked awake. Heavenly day. She couldn’t believe she was standing with her hands on her hips in the middle of the music room and still managing to nod off. Someone should have warned her that modeling for an artist was tedious.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Keane.” She glanced at Edwin, who watched her with a hooded stare. “As my brother said this morning, I’m not used to rising so early.”
Jeremy, too, was watching her, but his gaze was clinical, removed. “It’s all right. We’ve had a long day. The sun is setting and I’m losing the light anyway. Might as well stop for now.”
“But—”
“I can keep working on the background.” Jeremy smiled tightly. “Trust me, I have plenty to occupy me.” He glanced at the clock. “Why don’t you and your brother go on to dinner? Don’t mind me.”
She let her shoulders slump, and it felt so incredible, she wanted to do a little dance. Someone should also have warned her that modeling for an artist was extremely uncomfortable. Her spine felt as if someone had played piano on it for the past hour.
Then his words registered. She frowned. “You’re not dining with us?”
He avoided her gaze. “No, I believe I’ll keep working. But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate having a tray sent in to me.”
“Of course.” She donned her role as mistress of the manor. “Perhaps we’ll see you later this evening. In the drawing room.”
Jeremy cast her a meaningful glance. “Yes, later. Maybe.”
Her every sense went on high alert as she headed for the kitchen to order his tray. Somehow she’d managed to forget that they were to have a far more intimate sitting this evening.
