Page 56 of The Art of Sinning
His arm stiffened under Yvette’s hand, and he avoided looking at her. “I told you, Sally, you’re too blond for that role.”
“I’ll wear a wig! Wait there, I’ll show you the hat.”
As Sally disappeared from the window, an older and decidedly broader woman appeared to block the doorway. “Back to stir up my girls again, are you?”
Jeremy merely dipped his head. “Good evening, Mrs. Beard. You look to be in fine health.”
So this was the famous abbess. Yvette couldn’t stop staring. The woman had a bull neck, a half-exposed bosom the size of two cakes, and arms the width of small trees. A riding crop was tucked into the gold sash encircling her waist. She looked to be in fine health, all right—fine enough to beat a man twice her size into submission. No doubt she had, too, a time or two.
Mrs. Beard laid her hand on the crop. “Don’t you try to turn me up sweet, Mr. Keane. I’m onto your tricks. And I ain’t so sure that the money you pay for my girls’ time makes up for the trouble you bring. They all fight for the chance to pose for your bloody pictures. Spoils ’em for doing their real jobs.”
Yvette gaped at the woman. He was paying the soiled doves to model for him?Thatwas why he spent so much time in the stews?
No, that couldn’t be the only reason. Men didn’t go to bawdy houses to work; they went to play. Besides, if he’d merely been working, why hadn’t he told her one of the times when she’d chided him for his debauchery?
I just wish I were as much a rogue as you like to think.
She let out a breath. Hehadtold her, in myriad small ways. His gentlemanly courtesy. His protests over their meeting alone at night. His repeated concern for this bawdy-house visit. And in some larger ways, too—like by not bedding her the first chance he’d had. Yes, he’d kissed and caressed her, but he’d always restrained himself from going too far.
Still, he’d never corrected her assumptions about his character. Why not?
Then it dawned on her. He’dwantedher to believe him a big, bad scoundrel. He’d known she didn’t approve of such men because she’d told him flat out. Perhaps he’d hoped that letting her think him one would provoke her into staying away, thus helping him keep his distance.
Or perhaps she was just seizing on this evidence that he sometimes painted or sketched at the bawdy house to prove whatshewanted to believe—that he was a better man than she’d assumed. Well, whatever the truth, she’d unearth it tonight.
The big-bosomed Sally appeared in the doorway behind Mrs. Beard, waving a Spanish-style hat at Jeremy. “You see? I could pose as one of them foreign street musicians for you.”
Jeremy winced, and Yvette could easily guess why. That well-fed chit could never look like a worn-down Spanish woman fighting for pennies for her children.
“If I put street musicians in the piece, Sally,” Jeremy pointed out, “I can pay one ofthemto pose.” When the young woman frowned, he added soothingly, “I promise to find a place for you in a future work.”
Sally pouted. “It ain’t fair. Can’t help it that I came back here after you’d picked all the girls for your big picture. I want to be in a painting, too.” She glared daggers at Yvette. “I’m just as pretty as that Long Meg there, I daresay.”
It took all Yvette’s strength to resist a cutting retort.
“Sally!” Mrs. Beard barked. “Go take care of the gentleman in room eleven. I got no time for yer nonsense.” As soon as Sally sashayed back down the hall, Mrs. Beard leveled a hard gaze on Jeremy. “I got no time for yers neither.”
“I’m not staying long,” he said smoothly. “I’ve got some questions for you, and once I have my answers, I’ll be on my way.”
“You’ll get answers whenIget answers.” The abbess narrowed her gaze on Yvette. “Since when do you bring your own ladybirds to the brothel?”
“Miss Hardcastle isn’t my ladybird,” Jeremy said irritably. “She’s a new actress at the theater down the road. We’ve just come from a masque performance.”
MissHardcastle? Yvette dearly hoped Mrs. Beard had never seenShe Stoops to Conquer.
“She came to London,” he went on, “through the influence of an actress friend of hers, to try her hand at treading the boards. But when she arrived at the theater, her friend was nowhere to be found. She’s been looking for the woman in her spare time ever since.”
“And she stumbled over you instead?” Mrs. Beard asked.
Good Lord. Jeremy had certainly been right about the suspicious character of women in nunneries.
A crowd formed about them, made up of ladies of the evening, randy young gentlemen, and some passersby. Jeremy jerked his head to indicate the onlookers. “Could we go inside to your office? We’d like some privacy for this conversation.”
Mrs. Beard nodded at Yvette. “Don’t your actress friend have a voice?”
“Of course I have a voice,” Yvette snapped. “But as Mr. Keane says, I’d prefer to discuss my friend more discreetly.”
“Would you, now?” The woman’s eyes shifted from Yvette to Jeremy and back. Then she turned back into the house, striding off down the hall.
