Page 35 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
Stop thinking about it,she inwardly chided herself. She thanked the last customer and reorganized the paintings still for sale on the display easels. Most of her customers today had been young ladies, and many had requested horses. One young woman she’d met a few days ago had come back with her older brother and another young woman. By the looks of her, she had to be the younger sister of the young lady and her brother. The two women slid out of their saddles, and the youngest girl rushed straight to Suzannah.
“Do you paint portraits of pets?” the younger girl asked, her bright brown eyes large and beautiful and full of mischief. The older sister rolled her eyes.
“Audrey, she has far too much to do. She cannot paint your cats,” the older sister said.
“So you don’t paint pets?” The joy in the girl’s face faded.
“Oh, but I can,” Suzannah assured her. “But if they are cats, I must come to your home to see them better. I wouldn’t want you to try to take them anywhere, lest they escape or get lost.”
“Would you? That would be simply wonderful! We could have tea, and then you could paint Mittens and Muff.”
“Mittens and Muff? Those are—”
“My cats.” Audrey beamed proudly. “My dear brother, Cedric, bought them for me.” She nodded at the man who still sat on his horse, holding the reins of the other two horses with a patience only doting older brothers could manage.
“I would be happy to paint them for you,” Suzannah assured Audrey.
“Wonderful! Here is my card.” Audrey produced a lovely calling card with her address on the back. “Please send a note to me. We shall plan a time for you to come by.”
Audrey studied the paintings displayed around Suzannah and chose one of the watercolors she’d done, depicting a gentleman riding through an autumn landscape of fallen leaves.
“Oh, I simply must have this one. It reminds me of Cedric. Don’t you agree, Horatia?”
The older sister nodded. “It certainly does.”
Suzannah packed up the piece and was just seeing them off when she spied two men riding down the path in her direction. A third horse without a rider trailed behind them. Even at this distance, she recognized the man on the jet-black horse as Kit.
Lord, what was he doing here? Perhaps it was just a coincidence... Did he know she was here, or had he forgotten that she’d told him that she sold paintings in the park? She wanted to flee, but there were too many things to pack up, and he would have spotted her by then. So she stood there, feeling rather foolish as she waited for the men to reach her.
Kit slid down out of his saddle and handed over the reins to his companion, so that the other gentleman had charge of all three horses.
“Lord Kentwell, what are you doing here?” she asked in a low voice as he came toward her display. He doffed his hat to her, playing the part of a respectable gentleman. It was such a contrast to the brooding man who had removed the top half of his clothing for his portrait each night while he bared his scarred soul to her. The memory of that made her mouth run dry and her face heat up in a mortified blush.
Kit clasped his hands behind his back and pretended to admire the paintings she had out for sale. His dark eyes seemed warmer beneath the bright light of the afternoon sun. With some surprise, she realized she’d never seen him in the daylight before. He’d always been a dark, seductive presence in the shadows of the night or a darkened theater. She was not prepared for Kit by daylight. He was even more beautiful now with the afternoon light illuminating him.
“I purchased a new stallion this morning, and it seemed he required a companion to steady him, the mare you see there. It seems a shame that she should go without a rider this afternoon. I thought perhaps you would take her on a turn about the park with me? I have her saddled and ready for you.”
She looked over Kit’s tall shoulder at the dappled gray horse standing patiently alongside the black stallion. For a moment, she was tempted to accept. But it had been years since she’d ridden, and she couldn’t just leave her things unattended.
“Oh... I’m honored, Lord Kentwell, but I cannot leave my paintings and supplies unattended.”
“My friend Vincent shall watch over them for you. Won’t you, Vin?” he called out over her shoulder, and the other man nodded. “That is Vincent Wyndam, a man of most upstanding character. Vincent, this is Miss Townsend, a talented artist whose name is on the rise.”
Vincent dismounted from his horse and tossed a charming smile at Suzannah. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Miss Townsend.”
She had the strange sense she might’ve seen him before, perhaps at the theater? Many men often stood in the lobby after the performance, hoping to woo actresses to their beds. Perhaps he’d been there one evening as she’d passed by the waiting crowds.
“What do you say, Suzannah? Come for a ride with me?” Kit asked.
Her face reddened further at his use of her given name in a public setting. To call her Suzannah in the dark, in the shadows, when he was baring his soul to her for his portrait—when he was kissing her—that was one thing. But now, like this in the light of day, she didn’t know how to react.
“I really don’t think I should.”
“Please,” Kit said. It was so hard to deny him. She had the sense that after what he’d been through in the last seven years, he did not beg for anything lightly.
“But won’t it cause a stir?”
“Undoubtedly. You would be seen riding with me with no chaperone, and you aren’t dressed for riding. I’m sure the society pages will be buzzing with news of my wild and scandalous behavior tomorrow. But does it matter?”
