Page 27 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“That she what?” he asked again.
“That she wanted you because you’re so...beautiful.” The last word was whispered.
Her words stunned him. She thought he was beautiful? He’d been so convinced he was still a monster, a wild beast...
“Am I? Beautiful to you?” He mused this aloud, as if the very idea intrigued him. He then drew the tip of her index finger into his mouth, flicking the pad of her finger with his tongue. Then he playfully bit it before he let her pull her hand away with a startled gasp.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, but her voice was breathless.
“Behaving badly,” he chuckled. “I’m not used to compliments, and you made me feel rather nice,” he said with a wry grin. “But I’m not sure you should call a man beautiful.”
“But youarebeautiful,” she insisted, then added, “However, beauty can be dangerous. A tiger is beautiful, but still deadly.” She spun away and uncurled the fingers of his other hand from her gown. He let her retreat to her place behind her easel.
“If you are to apply such standards, then you must also be quite deadly, little tigress.”
She tried to hide her face behind the easel as she began to sketch, but he could see she was blushing. Kit should be scowling, but somehow teasing her with suggestive talk amused him. He never thought he would miss the quaint little English roses and their modesty, but he was enjoying this immensely.
He gazed at her, watching her work. Every now and then, she would peer around the edge of the easel and gaze at him intently. He did not tease her now, not when she was working. He had no desire to interrupt a gifted artist at work.
After two hours, Henry poked his head through the doorway and glanced at Suzannah, then at Kit, before creeping in and sitting on the chair behind Suzannah to watch her work. After another quarter hour, she set her charcoal down and addressed Kit.
“I think I’ve sketched what I would like to paint. I’ve grown comfortable with your features now,” she said. “I shall need to purchase a canvas. How large do you want the portrait to be?”
“Seven feet tall,” he said. “And four feet wide.” It was the same size as most of the paintings hanging in the gallery above where they were now.
“That large? You’re sure?” She nibbled her lip. “I will have to purchase a bigger easel.”
“Write a list of everything that you need, and Palmer will see them purchased. The supplies will be here when you are ready.”
She hesitated only a moment before writing out a list, then handed it to Kit. He took it and set it on a table before he hastily dressed. After Suzannah packed up her supplies, she waved at Henry, who was lounging in a chair.
“It’s time to go, Henry,” Suzannah said to the boy.
“Are we going to return tomorrow?” he asked Kit hopefully.
“You are,” Kit assured him before Suzannah could say anything. She might try to delay her next visit.
Kit escorted them to the door, where a coach was waiting for them. He caught Suzannah’s arm and slid his hand down to grasp her wrist. She turned to face him, and he placed a small purse of coins in her palm.
“This is a partial payment, along with a little more.”
Her dark-golden brows drew together. “More?”
“For the lad. Buy him some clothes that fit,” Kit whispered so Henry wouldn’t hear.
“Oh... yes. I will.” She looked down to their entwined hands. “Thank you.”
“I was once like him. There’s nothing worse than feeling like a child because you don’t fit in your shirt and trousers. Henry is a young man and should feel like one.”
She seemed to understand what he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the right words to respond. Instead, she simply said, “Thank you... I will do that.”
“Good night, Suzannah.”
Her lashes fluttered before she dared to meet his gaze. “Good night... Kit.”
He watched the coach carry her away into the night and then saw a now familiar light moving in the window across the street, signaling him. Darius. He’d caught on quickly to his friends’ silent method of communicating. It was close to the lamp signals sailors used to signal other ships in the fog or the dark.
“Meet... tomorrow...”
