Page 29 of Portrait of a Lady
Sudden understanding dawned in her eyes, and she furrowed her brow as she stared up at him. “Is that why you...why you became…”
“A courtesan? Yes. I’d begun to fear being forced out of my home and living off scraps before Benedict proposed the idea. I was skeptical at first, not certain it would prove to be as lucrative an idea as he thought. Two years later, here we are. I was wrong, obviously.”
She threw herself against him, wrapping her arms tight around his waist and resting her head on his chest. Clinging to him as if afraid a strong wind might carry him away, she burrowed her face in the fabric of his shirt. Hugh wrapped an arm around her, discovering that he quite liked the fit and feel of her against him this way, the warmth of her sinking through his skin and penetrating him deep.
“When your painting is accepted into the Exhibition, you can be sure that I will be there. If no one else is there to congratulate you on your accomplishment, then I will be. I swear it.”
While he might have taken her statement as one made from a place of pity, he chose instead to take it at face value. It truly bothered her to know that he’d been disowned, that his family would not celebrate his success. Even though his friends would be there—they’d told him they wouldn’t miss it for anything should his piece be accepted—somehow knowing he had her support as well made it all the sweeter. It felt different somehow, in a way he didn’t understand. He barely knew this woman, though the revelation of her own insecurities along with his family problems, as well as the intimacies they’d just shared went a long way toward pushing them past acquaintanceship and toward something else entirely.
Something which he’d never experienced with another client, causing him to warm in places other than his cock. It felt far too dangerous, as it would never do to succumb to any depth of feeling for a client. A well-bred woman like Evelyn would not want a man who had sold his cock to survive for anything beyond their current arrangement. And in his experience women who used their services did so because they desired a particular brand of freedom and independence. Not husbands. Complicating their arrangement by bringing softer emotions to the table was the last thing he ought to do.
Tipping her chin up, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. “Thank you, Evie.”
Chapter 6
“This evening, the Theatre Royal at Covent Garden will present a showing of Shakespeare’s tragedy of Othello, followed by the musical farce of Rosina. Though, I wager a fair number of you will be watching the spectacle of the ton as seen framed within their theatre boxes far more than you’ll attend to the show.”
-The London Gossip,19 March 1819
Regina clung to her skirts with shaking hands as slanted sheets of rain pelted her from all sides. The winds howled and lightning cracked overhead while thunder resounded as if in warning. The two men circling each other with swords in hand paid it no need, determined to battle one another to the death. Regina had given up hope that she would ever be saved from the clutches of Baron Redgrave, who had dragged her kicking and screaming back to his accursed castle. For weeks, she had languished in her tower room, weeping for hours upon end. She had thought herself cursed to this fate, to wither away until death within the clutches of the mad baron.
But, as the sun had risen over the horizon, she’d spied her salvation riding hell for leather in her direction. Could it be? She had dared to hope, but as the imposing figure of a man approaching on a white horse came into view, she had allowed joy to blossom within her chest. It was him! Sir Duncan Antony was riding to her rescue, braving the harshness of the moors and the threat of death, for her, for love.
He had found his way into the castle while the baron had been away, secreting her down a set of servants’ stairs and whisking her to his horse. Only, just as escape had seemed all but certain, Redgrave had come thundering toward them over the hard, barren earth, his black cloak whipping behind him in the wind. He had been as unwilling as ever to allow her to slip free of his clutches and had vowed to slay her brave knight then and there. Sir Antony had stood his ground, promising to dispatch the evil baron and free Regina from his obsessive hold once and for all.
“Stand back, Regina!” he bellowed to be heard over the clamor of the storm. “Upon my honor, I vow to slay this foul villain. Then you shall be mine for all eternity.”
“She will never be yours!” Redgrave snarled, raising his sword and charging toward her brave knight.
“Forgive me, Miss. A message has just arrived for you.”
Evelyn released a frustrated huff and gave Joseph a withering glare over her shoulder. Yet again, she was being interrupted just as she reached a crucial point in her manuscript. She now closed in on finishing her novel, which would end with the defeat of the mad baron. She had been at it all morning, moving her quill with a hectic speed over the parchment. The climax and resolution of a story proved her favorite part, and she had been building toward the confrontation between Redgrave and Sir Antony for weeks.
“Just leave it there, Joseph, thank you,” she replied, inclining her head toward the empty patch of desk at her elbow.
The footman obeyed and made a hasty, silent retreat, leaving her in blissful solitude once more. Evelyn returned her attention to her knight and the villain he would shortly dispatch to Hell—only after sustaining a grievous and heroic wound—but found herself unable to concentrate. Her gaze strayed to the sealed note every few seconds, her pulse giving a leap as she thought of the person she knew for certain had sent it. They were not scheduled to meet this evening, but Hugh never let a day pass without some form of communication, whether it be a short note accompanied by sketches he’d created just for her, or bouquets of flowers which filled her morning room with the sweetest scents.
They had seen one another four times in the week following their dinner in her chambers, and Evelyn continued to enjoy his company more and more. He was consistent in his attentions, showing her affection without pushing toward things she was not ready for, and engaging her in absorbing conversation. They’d walked together in Hyde Park—though not during the fashionable hour, as neither of them had a high tolerance for crowds—toured the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, and he’d even taken her along to purchase his supplies for painting.
He had wanted to escort her back home before making his way to the colorman’s shop, but she had insisted she wished to accompany him, having never given much thought to the mechanics of creating art until becoming involved with him. She’d found it all so fascinating, watching him critically study pots of ground pigments while discussing the various hues with the proprietor. There were a plethora of other mediums she’d never realized must be used—linseed oil, turpentine, varnishes, all of which must be of the utmost quality.
There were quiet evenings spent ensconced in her bedchamber, where they shared intimate dinners before retiring to the bed. They lay together, entangled in one another’s limbs kissing and touching and allowing passion to sweep them away. He’d remained firm in his resolve to initiate her patiently and gently, and while she remained a virgin in theory, her blushing innocence had been slowly stripped away.
She squirmed in her chair, growing aroused as she remembered their last night together. Evelyn had asked him to tutor her through pleasuring him with her mouth. He’d taken to the idea with the sort of fervor that told her he’d been waiting for such a moment. Laying him down on the bed, she’d taken his cock into her mouth, allowing him to take hold of her hair and set the pace, learning how to lick and suck him until he spent in her mouth, shuddering and panting beneath her. She had never thought she might enjoy such a thing, having been slightly put off by the images Patience had shown her of women performing the act. However, she couldn’t deny the thrill she’d felt at having Hugh at her mercy, the taste of him, his musky scent, and even the taste of his spend, a testament to his own enjoyment. Once he had recovered from his climax, he had promptly turned her onto her back and buried his face between her thighs, licking and kissing her until she fell apart in a fit of sheer rapture.
That had marked the first night he’d ever slept in her bed, where before he would ceremoniously tuck her in with a kiss on the forehead before departing for his own lodgings. She’d slept quite comfortably with him at her back, one arm draped around her waist. He’d awakened at dawn before departing, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips before promising to return on Friday. However, it was now Thursday, and he’d sent her a note; one that commanded her attention.
Setting her quill aside, she gave up onThe Mad Baronfor the time being. She wouldn’t be able to write a single word until she had discovered what lay within Hugh’s note.
She took up the slip of paper and tore through the seal. A smile spread across her face as she found Hugh’s messy scrawl at the bottom of a sketch of a woman holding a bouquet of roses, her nose buried in the blossoms.
Benedict has offered me the use of his theater box this evening. I will be attending with a group of friends and thought you might like to accompany us. If you are amenable, I will come for you this evening.
Hugh
Her smile grew even wider as she realized that though they’d just spent the previous night together, he wished to see her again. They had agreed to three nights each week, but Evelyn had already begun to consider asking him for more. She was aware that the man had his own life separate from the time he spent with her, but she couldn’t help the longing deep within her whenever they were apart. She ached for his kiss, longed for his nearness, and most importantly, had decided that she was more than ready to proceed to the next inevitable step of her arrangement. She was ready for Hugh to rid her of her virginity.
Perhaps tonight could be the night. He would accompany her home after the theater, where she’d lead him to her bed and urge him to finish what they had begun that night at Vauxhall.
