Page 22 of Portrait of a Lady
“There are many words for it,” Patience said with a little wave of her hand. “Spending, coming off, or when one wishes to sound sophisticated,la petite mort.”
Evelyn frowned, taking up a slice of bacon and nibbling on it while turning those words over in her head. “There’s so much I don’t know about what happens next. I had no idea what to expect last night, and soon found myself in a position I did not anticipate.”
“But you did like it, didn’t you?”
“Very much. But the more I think about what I do not know, the more nervous I become. He is coming here this evening for dinner, and to discuss the other details of our arrangement. He’ll kiss me again; I know he will. But then...what if there is more of what happened last night? What if he wants to...to…”
Patience gave her a puzzled frown. “Don’t you want that to happen? I thought getting rid of your virginity was the reason for this entire thing.”
“It is, but...oh, Patience, I am so appallingly ignorant about all of this. You know how out of sorts it makes me feel not to know things. It’s as if I have been dropped into the ocean without first being taught to swim.”
Taking hold of her hand, Patience gave it a little squeeze. “Then we’ll simply have to teach you to swim, won’t we?”
Evelyn sagged against the back of the sofa with a sigh of relief. Thank God, Patience had understood what she’d needed without her having to actually voice it aloud.
“I’m so grateful to have you, Patience,” she said, clinging tight to her companion’s hand. “I don’t know how I would get through any of this without you.”
Patience released her hand and sprang to her feet with a little laugh. “Not to worry. We’ll have you all ready for your paramour in time for dinner. I have some literature for you to read, and one of my books contains some very illuminating illustrations. But first, I’ll begin by telling you all about what Joseph and I got up to at Vauxhall last night. I vow, that man has the stamina of a rampant stallion…”
Leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand, Evelyn listened intently, hanging onto Patience’s every word.
Hugh stood backfrom the canvas before him, studying the progress he’d just made onVirtue and Vicewith a critical eye. Taking Crosby’s advice to mind, he had decided to use the masquerade for inspiration in continuing the piece. After all, he hadn’t been a spectator at last night’s event. He’d been an active participant and could draw upon the experience in order to inject a personal touch into the scene. He’d painted a Dresden shepherdess frolicking on the arm of a man in the black domino in the background, using a figurine that had adorned the mantlepiece of a drawing room hearth for reference while injecting it with the details he recalled from his short interaction with Evelyn’s companion. The innocence portrayed by her mode of dress offered a perfect juxtaposition against her male escort’s domino and the seething darkness surrounding them. While waiting for that part of the work to dry, he shifted his eyes onto the focal point of the painting—the debutante and her suitor.
Looking upon her now, Hugh found her lacking in many regards, missing some vital thing that might hold the viewer captive. She was too much the coquette, not nearly pure enough to portray the ‘virtue’ element so crucial to the piece. So, he’d gotten to work transforming her. He’d spent half an hour mixing the correct pigments to create the hair color he desired, something dark enough to obliterate the pale white-blond hue with which he’d begun. It had been quite an effort, finding the right balance of bitumen and brown madder, with just the right balance of ivory black to create the rich sable hue. He’d painted flowing locks cascading down the woman’s back, undulating like water and taking on the gleam of moonlight. Her lips shouldn’t be rouged like some sort of harlot...they ought to be a more neutral shade, but still somehow enticing. He’d spent most of his afternoon working on her, turning her into the sort of woman who stirred something in him. Not an untouchable object to gaze upon from afar, but something warmer and more real.
Once satisfied with her for the moment, he turned his attention to the background, beginning a section composed of crumbling pillars and trees—a ruin perfect for a pair of lovers to escape to.
Putting his palette aside, he stood back and took in his progress, deciding he was satisfied enough with it for now. He still had quite a bit of work to do, particularly on the elements of the scenery, but he stood right where he wished to be. He had more than enough time to perfect it.
Glancing down at the watch he’d left laying amid the clutter of his pigment pots and brushes, he noted the time. He was due at Evelyn’s home in an hour. Taking the time to wash his brushes and organize his pots back inside the paintbox, Hugh allowed himself to anticipate what the evening with Evelyn might hold.
His thoughts had wandered in her direction more than once today, memories of their moments amongst the ruins springing to mind without provocation. He’d left her townhouse with the scent of her still clinging to him, plagued by a heightened sense of awareness. Even the wind caressing the back of his neck as he’d taken the short walk home had reminded him of the feel of her fingertips, sending a tremor down his spine.
He had expected a blushing innocent, and while he’d gotten that, there had been so much more. Evelyn had seduced him into quite a state, and she hadn’t even been trying. Their little interlude in the gardens had left him hungry for more, for the rest of what would happen once he got her alone and behind closed doors. It was a new experience for him, actually looking forward to going to his keeper instead of viewing it as a simple obligation to be performed for the sake of his income. Hugh wasn’t certain how to feel about it at present.
Eagerness drove him across the corridor to his bedchamber, where he made quick work of washing up and putting on evening attire appropriate for the occasion. He took pains with his appearance in a way he was not typically wont to do. First impressions were important, and while this wouldn’t be her first time laying eyes on him, it would be the first time she saw him outside his Hussar’s habit.
As he wound his cravat into as neat a knot as he could manage, he wondered how she would appear outside her own fancy dress. She’d dress modestly, he presumed, her chignon simple. She hadn’t worn cosmetics to Vauxhall, so he supposed he ought to expect that same fresh, dewy face this evening. He experienced a slight stirring in his breeches as he pictured that face flushed pink, her head thrown back and her lips parted as he’d brought her to climax. By the time the night was through he’d bear witness to that sight again, though with more light by which to better admire her. That thought, along with the hunger he’d been ignoring through the entire afternoon, drove him from the house. He walked with long, swift strides, a suede satchel containing sketching supplies hanging from one hand. He’d brought it along as an afterthought, a bit of amusement should Evelyn ask him what he did when he wasn’t entertaining his lovers.
Aside from that, he hoped to have the chance to sketch those perfect, slender hands while they were together. He did not have a good enough memory after one encounter to draw them without being able to look at her for reference. If she were willing, Evelyn would make the perfect subject with which he might hone his skills. Besides, it might give them a chance to talk—something he felt would be needed if they were to make any progress this evening.
Evelyn had been shut tighter than a clamshell and had needed his gentle prodding to unwind a bit. While he suspected this wouldn’t continue to be a problem going forward, he ought to expect her to feel a bit wary following their last encounter, perhaps even embarrassed.
As he approached her front door, he vowed to do whatever it took to make her comfortable with him, if for no other reason than it would get them into bed that much faster.
His knock was answered by a footman, one who did not seem the least bit shocked by Hugh’s presence at his mistress’s home. Good. A discreet staff would serve to ensure word of their affair did not make the rounds.
“Good evening,” the servant said as Hugh entered a small foyer. “Miss Coburn has asked that you join her upstairs for dinner. Right this way.”
He raised his eyebrows as the footman indicated that Hugh was to follow him upstairs. If his guess proved correct, Evelyn was inviting him into her bedchamber from the onset. A clear signal that she intended to get on with things, if ever there was one.
“Wait a moment!” called a woman’s voice from upstairs. “She is not ready yet!”
Hugh recognized the voice as that of Evelyn’s companion, Patience. The footman paused on the step before him, bringing Hugh to a stop as well. The servant turned to face him with a sheepish grin and cleared his throat.
“Just another moment, sir.”
Hugh leaned against the banister and shrugged one shoulder.
