Page 40 of The Art of Sinning
“Good God, I hope not,” Jeremy muttered, and poured himself some coffee.
“Why?” she asked. “Surely your sister isn’t such a dragon as all that. Or is it your mother who alarms you? She must be awful if you ran off to England to escape her.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “She’s not awful, and I’m not escaping anything. I’m merely attempting to broaden my knowledge of art, to view masterpieces I would never have the chance to see in America.”
“So why do you care if your family comes to visit you? It’s not as if they can force you to go back with them.”
“Actually,” Edwin interrupted, “the missive isn’t about Keane’s family. It’s an invitation to a masquerade ball a week from Friday.”
“Oh. How very... intriguing.” She’d forgotten all about Jeremy’s plan.
Jeremy glanced at Edwin. “Ah, yes, before I left town, Lady Zoe mentioned that she was throwing one and wanted to invite the two of you. She asked if I thought it would be awkward for you to be around your former fiancée’s relations. I told her that if you found it so, you would just refuse to attend.”
When Edwin stiffened, Yvette bit back a smile. The best way to make sure her brother did as one wished was to challenge him not to. It got his back up. Edwin could be very proud sometimes.
“So what do you think?” she prodded her brother. “Shall we go? It sounds like fun.”
“I see no reason to avoid it,” Edwin said blandly.
She couldn’t resist teasing him. “Really? I thought you hated masquerade balls.”
“I’m not nearly the dullard you take me for. I know how to enjoy myself.”
“But not by wearing a costume. Not by dancing with—”
“If you’re trying to talk me out of attending, you’re doing a good job of it,” Edwin said.
Uh-oh. “Sorry. That was not my intention; I’d genuinely like to go. So you must take me.”
He sighed. “I suppose I must.”
She slanted a glance at Jeremy. “How else am I to find out from Lady Zoe everything I can about Mr. Keane and his frightening relations?”
The artist’s face closed up. “There’s nothing to find out, I assure you. Or at any rate, nothing terribly interesting.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Anyway,” Edwin interrupted, “if we’re all going, Yvette, I shall send an acceptance. I can do it while you’re posing for Keane. I’ll play secretary, and you can dictate my response.” A sudden gleam in his eye put her on guard. “Perhaps it’ll keep you from falling asleep. I don’t know how you managed that while you were standing up. You’d think that your militant stance alone would have kept you on your feet.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I defy anyone not to get bored while maintaining a fixed position for hours.” She dipped her toast in her runny egg. “And I stayed awake much longer than I would have if I’d sat in a chair. Aren’t you glad now that I chose my ‘fishwife’s pose’?”
“I’m not glad about anything,” Edwin grumbled. “I begin to regret that I ever suggested this portrait.”
She laughed outright. “Why? Because I’ve turned it to my advantage?”
He flashed her a rueful smile. “Because if you keep falling asleep, Keane will be camped here until doomsday trying to finish it.”
“No, indeed.” She ate a bite of toast. “He’s got family coming any day now.” She shot Jeremy a look of challenge. “If he’s still working when they arrive, we can invite them to stay at Stoke Towers.”
To her surprise, a laugh burst from the American. “Mother would never do that. This is her first trip to London. She isn’t going to settle for moldering out at your country estate when she can be shopping on Bond Street.”
Aha! That was one clue about his mother. “She enjoys shopping, does she?”
“Doesn’t every woman?”
“Not your sister,” Edwin put in. “Not according to what you told me at the wedding.”
“He told you about his sister at the wedding?” Yvette said. “Why didn’t you tellme?”
