Page 8 of Wicked With You
“Yes, it is,” she murmured, then hastened to add, “No one would know that I did the painting.”
Gran’s hazel eyes sparkled with shrewdness. “Will you be wearing the stone while you do this painting?”
Henrietta’s heart jolted. “Gran!”
“I saw you earlier speaking with a particular gentleman, young lady, and now this.”
Her throat worked, but no sound emerged. “I…yes, Lord Hardwick wants to commission my services for a portrait.”
“You have my blessings,” Gran said, that sparkle still in her eyes. “Ensure you keep the charmed stone nearby.”
Eva and Lilli nodded their eager agreements, and Henrietta laughed. Still, she did not dismiss the idea, even as she thought it ridiculous that anything might ever develop between her and that earl.
CHAPTER3
Dear Lord Hardwick,
I will paint your portrait for the offered sum. My terms are fifty percent before we start and the remainder at the end. Please present yourself tomorrow afternoon to the humble abode you uncovered and ready yourself for me. We will, however, need to discuss further terms.
H. Atwood.
The man’s scrawl was elegant and blunt, yet the words had sent a surge of triumph through Simon. He had wasted no time calling for his horse and riding the short distance through the woods to the cottage nestled so perfectly in the vast forest.
He’d walked up the few steps, tested the latch and found the door opened noiselessly. Simon hadn’t been certain what he would find upon entering the painter’s hideaway, but it wasn’t the charming interior that seemed as if it had a lady’s touch. The scent of lemon wax and jasmine was redolent on the air, and the colors of the sofa and cushions were yellow and green to match the lush carpet and the sheer curtain fluttering by the window.
Miss Sutton’s feminine influence Simon supposed, given she was a close friend of the man. The furniture was overstuffed and crafted for comfort, and several paintings graced the wall. A table had been arranged with refreshments, and a few canvases scattered about the place, and he noted a fire burned low in the hearth. But there was no Henry Atwood.
Simon thought of Vivienne and what she might think upon receiving his portrait. No doubt she would smile at his arrogance, but he knew enough that she would also be tempted. Simon had been without a lover for several months, almost baffled by his disinterest in the pursuit of pleasure. Then this delectable courtesan had taken the polite world by storm, even provoking a duel between a viscount and an earl a month ago. All for her favor.
It had been with some amusement Simon had tossed his hat into the ring to compete for her favor. The lady had already granted him a few kisses, with a promise for so much more should he win her hand.
You little tease, he thought almost fondly. Simon was also certain she had not granted any other gentleman a taste of her mouth. Not even the Duke of Perrault. That told him the minx wanted him too, but simply liked the chase. So he would chase her, and when he caught her, it would indeed be the beginning of a torrid affair until he was ready to marry some years from now. Simon was only seven and twenty and planned to enjoy bachelorhood for several more years before procuring himself a countess.
Trying to recall the carnal invitation in her eyes when they last spoke, Simon reared his head back as if he had been slapped when a pair of magnificent dark blue eyes rose in his thought.
Miss Sutton.
“What the hell is this?” He muttered in the stillness of the cottage, thoroughly aggrieved. Growling with annoyance under his breath, he pushed those lovely eyes from his mind and tried to conjure up Vivienne’s.
“Well,” he said after several seconds of trying. “That is to be expected.”
After all, he had met Miss Sutton over a year ago and had never forgotten the beauty of her eyes or how sad they had seemed. How many ladies could he say the same of? So surely it was to be expected that he could not recall Vivienne’s eyes now or the shape of her smile.
Worse, he had seen Miss Sutton only two days ago, and the lady’s charm was exquisite. That meant it was perfectly reasonable that it was her smile he recalled. It made sense that his heart kicked up a notch at thinking of her when musings of Vivienne had never urged his heart to react. While he carnally felt anticipation, that wretched organ had not moved. His reason almost felt a bit unhinged, and he blew out an annoyed breath.
Why was he so singularly attracted to Miss Sutton? In truth, Simon had been painfully aware of the chit the first time he saw her. He had wanted to ask her for a dance and had asked his mother to perform introductions. The matrimonial fever that glinted in her eyes had made him sharply detour. Simon had shied away from the attraction, knowing that should he pursue the viscount’s daughter, it could only be for courtship. Knowing he had not been ready to settle down, he had ignored the blasted temptation and enjoyed his pleasurable pursuit about town.
Scowling, Simon started to unknot the cravat his valet had tied as if he planned to choke him. He only needed to hurry and get this painting out of the way to return to the refurbishing of the manor he planned to gift to his younger and very foolhardy sister, who had recently eloped, as a wedding present.
* * *
Taking a deep breath,Henrietta closed her hand over the latch to the small cottage, her terms of engagement’s speech prepared. She’d sent a servant earlier to light the hearth and deliver a jug of water, lemonade, and some cakes. Another footman had also carried over several canvases, paintbrushes, and oils. She only took a basket with some smaller paintbrushes and other items with her. Most importantly, she had a paper with ink to draft up their contract.
Pinning a pleasant smile about her mouth, she opened the door and stopped as if she had run into a stone wall. For a precious moment, nothing made sense, not even the pounding sound in her ears. Henrietta belatedly realized it was her heartbeat.
The earl was naked!
Or partially naked. He was bared of shirt and jacket…and even boots! The man stood looking out into her small garden with his muscled back toward her. It was a moment before she could pull enough air into her lungs to exhale. “Lord Hardwick!”
