Page 35 of Portrait of a Lady
Her smile shrank a bit as a well of anxiety opened deep within her. She’d never been brave enough to allow anyone other than Patience to read her work, and the thought of letting Hugh made her want to run and hide, closeting herself away so she didn’t have to make such a decision.
“I...I don’t know…”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Forget I asked. If you aren’t ready, then I won’t press you.”
Relief washed over her, though the idea had now rooted itself in her mind. Would it really be so bad, allowing him to read it? He was only one person, and he was already in on one secret she never wished the world to know.
“Thank you,” she simply said, deciding to give the matter more thought on her own time.
“I don’t have to stay,” he said, slouching a bit on the settee. “You need to finish your novel, and I need to work on my painting. I can come back after—”
“No,” she exclaimed, moving closer to him on the seat. “I’m nearly done and had thought to take a walk once I’d finished. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’d very much like you to accompany me.”
Now that he was here, she was loath to lose his company. Perhaps she would finally have what she’d wanted last night once they returned from their walk.
“Of course I’ll stay. I can sketch while I wait. Take your time.”
She returned to her desk as he took up his satchel and removed one of his sketchbooks. After sending for Joseph and asking him to put her bouquet in a vase of water, she sank into her chair and took up her quill. She passed another hour working to finishThe Mad Baron, pausing every now and then to look up and find Hugh hard at work, glancing at her from time to time. A soft smile curved her lips as she realized she didn’t really mind his presence in the room while she worked. In fact, she quite liked it.
“How’s your ice?”Hugh asked, glancing over at Evelyn who sat perched on the seat of his phaeton.
It had been his idea to take a drive instead of a walk, the weather pleasant enough for them to enjoy from the open vehicle. He’d sent for the equipage and it had arrived out front of Evelyn’s home just in time—right when she’d punctuated the very last sentence of her novel. Hugh had driven her to Berkeley square, where they’d managed to find a spot beneath the maple trees alongside the other vehicles clogging the lane. They now sat watching people come and go from the square as they indulged in their ices.
“It’s divine,” she murmured between bites, the little spoon held between her gloved fingers. “I’ve never tried the elderflower before...it’s far better than I expected.”
Hugh watched her while taking a bite of his own almond-flavored ice, though he hardly tasted it. He was too preoccupied with the way a loose curl kissed the side of her neck where he wanted to press his lips, the way her mouth closed over the spoon. He wanted to kiss her, experience the taste of the elderflower ice on her lips. Such would be wholly inappropriate, of course, and would expose the nature of their relationship should anyone spot them—a distinct possibility in a popular haunt such as Gunter’s. However, it was one of the few places it would be perfectly acceptable for them to be seen alone together, and he’d wanted her company without feeling as if they must duck and hide.
A ridiculous notion given that their relationship was supposed to be purely of a carnal and secretive nature. Still, he liked the idea of pushing that aside for an afternoon and indulging in the fantasy of courtship. It was just the sort of thing he knew he ought not do, but he couldn’t help himself. Evelyn was pleasant to talk to, smart as a whip, and witty to boot. He found the fact that she secretly wrote Gothic novels endearing, a new facet to her personality he felt privileged to know anything about. During their short time together, he’d come to see that very few people knew her as a whole person. How could they, when shyness plagued her to the point that she’d never allowed many people to truly come to know her?
“I owe you an apology,” he blurted, desperate to make conversation and steer his thoughts away from their dangerous trajectory.
She glanced up from her glass, the brim of her hat tipping up to reveal a furrowed brow. “For what?”
Leaving his spoon in the depths of his empty glass, he sighed. “For last night. I hadn’t expected to encounter Marcus at the theater and was caught off guard. But, that was no fault of yours and I should not have allowed it to ruin our evening.”
She shook her head, offering him a consoling smile. “It wasn’t ruined. I really had a wonderful time at the theater and I enjoyed meeting your friends.”
Her assurances made him feel only slightly better, as he had seen the clear disappointment in her eyes when he’d cried off. “I am glad to hear that, but I’m still sorry. When you...when you asked me to accompany you inside, I had no right to refuse. I ought to have put my personal problems aside to give you what you wanted. I would hate for you to have been disappointed with me.”
“Oh,” she whispered, lowering her head, her hat shielding her face once more. “I see. Well...I wasn’t wholly disappointed, I had only hoped that...well, that we would finally…”
The late spring air was suddenly stifling, clogging the air around them with an oppressive sort of heat. It seemed to sink deeper than his skin, infusing his blood, which began its predictable course straight to his cock. All at once he was both aroused and annoyed with himself. Last night, the thing he’d wanted so badly had been right within his reach. Instead of going home angry and frustrated, he might have taken Evelyn to bed, finding comfort in burying himself deep inside her and giving her the pleasure she desired.
“Bollocks,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “I am an idiot.”
She giggled at that, leaning close to nudge him with her shoulder. “Not an idiot. You simply weren’t in the mood, Hugh. It is completely understandable.”
“Except it isn’t. Pleasing you is my—”
He bit his tongue before he could say aloud that it was his ‘job.’ Even though that statement would prove true, it still felt far too matter-of-fact when he was talking to Evelyn. She wasn’t just a job or a client; she was a woman he wanted to make happy.
“You are a person, Hugh, not a...a whore.” She choked out the last word, her cheeks flushing pink as she avoided his gaze to go back to her ice. “At least, I do not think of you that way. If you do not want to do something, I would never press the issue.”
Darting a glance around to ensure they were still unheard; he met her gaze and smirked. “I am certainly not overcome with any such affliction just now. In fact, I find I am most...eager...to pick up where we left off. That is, if you haven’t changed your mind.”
“No,” she said, so quickly he wondered if she’d been prepared to make the exact same proposition. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Good. Finish your ice then, and we’ll return to your home and—”
