Page 69 of The Art of Sinning
“Oh, very well.” Clarissa went to work on the needles. “And while I help you, you can tell me all about that artist fellow who’s doing your portrait. When you visited us the other day, you neglected to mention that he is so very good-looking.”
With a snort, Edwin returned to perusing his account books. But Yvette now noticed him rubbing the back of his neck. He did that when he was agitated. No doubt he was still worried about Yvette’s association with Jeremy.
As Yvette opened canvas bags, she weighed her words. “I supposesomewould find Mr. Keane attractive. Assuming that one liked that sort of thing.”
“Oh, come now, he was handsome as sin in that costume, admit it.”
Yes, if Sin had an angel’s golden locks and glorious blue eyes. Jeremy certainly made Yvette feel like sinning. Recklessly. Thoroughly.
Often.
“It’s only because he has that American way of seeming carefree and wild. That can sometimes be appealing.”
“Sometimes!” Clarissa snorted. “I doubt he’s anything less than gorgeous at any time. I can only imagine how divine he must look in dinner attire.”
Divine, indeed. Yvette hoped she got to see him in it again. Or out of it. The sight of Jeremy in shirtsleeves had quite heated her blood. Just imagine if he were wearing nothing but—
“Don’t be vulgar,” Edwin said through clenched teeth.
Yvette nearly jumped before she realized her brother was speaking to Clarissa.
Her friend tipped up her chin. “Pray tell me, why is it vulgar for a woman to admire a man’s looks? Men admire women’s looks all the time.”
“Ah, yes, I forgot,” he said. “You aspire to be a man these days, complete with trousers and waistcoat.”
“Don’t tell me you’re angry that I didn’t consult you about my costume at the ball,” Clarissa said, an odd gleam in her eyes. “Really, Edwin, I didn’t know it mattered so much to you.”
Edwin scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t give a farthing what costume you wear. You can dress yourself as a Turk, for all I care.”
“I’d much prefer to be the Turk’s harem slave,” Clarissa said sweetly. “Only think how much fun that costume would be. All those flowing, nearly transparent fabrics and flimsy pantaloons. I could wear some kohl around my eyes and show my belly, and practically ensure that I’m asked to stand up for every set.”
A curious flush rose over Edwin’s face. He stood abruptly, gathered up his account ledgers, and headed for the door. “Forgive me, ladies, I have work to do. You’ll enjoy your chatter more without me here anyway.”
As he walked out, Clarissa cast him a speculative look and said softly, “I sincerely doubt that.”
When he was gone, Yvette turned to her friend. “Why do you persist in taunting him so?”
A strange expression crossed Clarissa’s face before she shrugged. “It’s good for him. He’s too sure of his opinions and his place and his rules. Someone has to shake him up, and you don’t do it nearly as much as you should.” She leaned over. “Now, enough about your rigid brother. Tell me more about your Mr. Keane.”
“He’s hardlymyMr. Keane. He’s been in London ever since the ball.”
“He’s probably working up the courage to offer for you.”
“Not a chance. The man has sworn off marriage, though I don’t know why.”
“He’s an artist.Andan American.” Clarissa stabbed a needle through a placard. “They’re mad, all of them. But handsome, I’ll grant you. You could have a flirtation with him. That would be suchfun. As long as you’re careful, of course.”
“You mean, the way you were in Bath?”
Clarissa’s face darkened. “That was all Mama’s fault. She tried to turn it into something more despite my wishes.”
That had been the real reason for Clarissa’s abrupt return home. Some fellow in Bath had fallen madly in love with her, and Clarissa had apparentlynotreturned the feeling.
“Anyway,” Clarissa went on, “according to Warren, you and Mr. Keane are already rather friendly.”
Yvette’s heart dropped. “What did Warren tell you?”
“It wasn’t what he told me, but what he asked me. He quizzed me about what you’d been up to lately, and how close you were to Mr. Keane, and whether I thought you could get into trouble with the man. He wouldn’t ask such things if he had no suspicions.” Clarissa cast her a knowing look. “He wasveryinterested in your well-being.”
