Page 47 of The Art of Sinning
“Why, Mr. Keane,” she said uneasily, “I do believe you’ve been drinking.”
“I was, yes.” When she lifted her eyebrow, he added, “But I stopped a while ago. Long before your brother and I expected you home.”
With a snort, she shook out the chiton. “I seriously doubt that Edwin was even remotely concerned about my return. Sometimes I stay over at Clarissa’s as late as midnight. He’s used to that. My maid always goes with me, and Warren always sends us back in his carriage with a footman for protection.”
“Does he?”
When he crossed his arms over his chest, she realized with a jolt that his sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms. How... titillating. His forearms were well corded with muscle, and she was reminded of how those arms had encircled her only last week.
He stepped closer. “You andWarrenseem awfully chummy.”
She fisted the chiton in her hands. He dared to behave like a jealous boor after practically ignoring her for over a week? Idiot. “Yes, we are chummy. What of it?”
“I don’t like him.”
“I don’t care. He’s notyourfriend.” Somehow she managed to keep her tone light. “And you won’t ‘be around here long enough’ for your feelings about him to matter, remember?”
The way he flinched was rather satisfying. About time she got some of her own back with him.
Then he smoothed his features. “My feelings will matter a great deal if your dalliance with him prevents me from finishing my paintings.”
Oh, that really tore it. She marched up to him. “First of all, I’m here, on time, to pose for your dratted painting. Second of all, I’m not having a dalliance with Warren. Not that it’s any ofyourconcern.”
He stared down at her, his expression unreadable, but she could see the pulse throb in his throat. Perversely, she wanted to touch it. It reminded her that he wasn’t an automaton after all, but a flesh-and-blood man. A veryattractiveflesh-and-blood man, who made her quiver with anticipation.
Something flickered deep in his gaze. “So Knightford isn’t the one asking you to go into a Covent Garden brothel?”
“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous.” When Jeremy’s expression didn’t alter, a chill coursed down her spine. “You don’t believe me.”
“I’m not sure what I believe.” He circled her slowly. “Knightford just happens to come here the very night before the masquerade, and you just happen to go off eagerly with him. What am I supposed to think?”
“That I went to see my friend Clarissa? That I have things to do other than be at your beck and call night and day?”
“Maybe. Or maybe that the two of you wanted privacy so he could instruct you on whatever you had to do for him tomorrow night.”
“What a ludicrous notion.”
“Fine.” He paused to lower his head to her ear. “If he’s not the one prompting this mad escapade, then who? Because he’s the only mysterious man I can see in your life just now.”
Her pulse gave a panicky leap. She briefly considered telling him about Samuel, but then the stubborn side of her reared up. Why should she tell him anything? He wouldn’t tell her a blessed thing about himself.
Besides, she dared not risk his blathering her family secrets to the world. Edwin deserved better than to see more scandal heaped on the family. And she highly resented Jeremy’s acting as if this was an interrogation. She was not in the mood for his nonsense tonight.
“I shan’t listen to this.” Tossing the chiton down like a gauntlet, she turned for the door. “I’m going to bed.”
“The hell you are!” He hurried to block her path, his face a stormy mask. “You promised to model for me, then ran off for the entire day. You owe me a session tonight, at the very least.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts. “So I can lie there freezing and sore while you pepper me with ridiculous accusations about Warren?”
“They’re not ridiculous,” he said sullenly. “They’re perfectly logical.”
“Toyou. To me they sound like the product of a jealous mind, which has clearly—”
“Jealous! I’m not jealous.”
“Oh? After the way you’ve been lately, I can think of no other reason for your erratic behavior tonight.Youdon’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either.”
“Nowwho’s making ridiculous accusations?” His hard gaze locked with hers. “My ‘erratic behavior’ stems from my concern about this upcoming brothel visit. I want to know... Ideserveto know the truth of why you’re risking your reputation for it.”
