Page 56 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
He clenched his teeth and looked away from her for a brief moment. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her he sought revenge on her father and hoped to bring the entire operation down. Yet at once, he could not bear for her to think him that sort of man, brutish, debauched, and immoral.
“But, Arabella, it is the only way I get to see you,” he said, hoping to placate her.
“You knew nothing of me when you first joined.”
He took in a steadying breath as they turned around the dance floor. “That is true. I admit that I was curious at the beginning. There are murmurs of rumours about the Lord’s Society in every walk of life, and it is natural for any man to want to know what’s going on. But now, Arabella, now I stay for you. To never see you again would …”
Break my soul.He couldn’t say the words or quite admit it to her. Not yet.
“If your feelings for me are as true as you say they are,” she said, “you will forgo this task and avoid the society in the future. We will find a way to be together, Sebastian, if we really want to.”
***
Sebastian trotted up the steps of The Haven early the following morning, thinking of meeting Edward Sinclair there. Arabella had slipped into the crowd as soon as their dance had ended, not saying another word to him.
He felt her loss keenly, saddened that their conversation had ended so coldly. He understood her concerns and loved her all the more for her determination and integrity. But she didn’t know everything, and she didn’t understand what was driving him.
“Sebastian,” Edward said with a broad smile as soon as he entered. “You’re looking tired. Don’t tell me you went to the Elliots’ ball last night? I would have thought you would have better things to do now.”
“Got to keep up appearances, Edward. You know how it is as a young duke. How are you?”
He took a seat opposite Edward, the desk stretching between them.
“Couldn’t be better, my boy. I’m curious, though, what can I do for you? If this is about your test of loyalty, you know I can’t give you any further information yet.”
“No, it’s not about that,” Sebastian said, though he was indeed desperate to know more. “It’s actually about Lady Arabella.”
Edward’s expression darkened. “I’ve warned you before, Ravenswood. She is off limits.”
“I know.”
He’d spent the entire night turning their conversation over in his head, and he knew he couldn’t leave it at that. He needed to see her again, to talk to her, to explain, even if he couldn’t yet tell her the entire truth. He needed to know she would be there for him, with him. He needed to touch her again.
Edward let out a bark of laughter, and Sebastian detected a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. Arabella was his weak spot.
“Then what is it?”
“I want another portrait, nothing more.”
Edward raised his eyebrows. “Another one? What was wrong with the last one?”
Sebastian feigned a sneer as best he could. “I gave it to one of the harlots in my company,” he said. “Something to keep her company at night.”
Edward narrowed his eyes. “Watch your step, Sebastian. You don’t want such paintings falling into anyone’s hands—and neither do I.”
“Fret not, Edward. I’m no fool. She’s well under control, and I told her it was a self-portrait.”
“And she believed you?”
“A commoner will believe anything when fanned with money and potential. I would have thought you’d know that, Sinclair.”
Edward chuckled. “You dirty dog, Sebastian. You’re getting the hang of this. Of course, you can have another portrait. I’ll send her to you tomorrow.”
Chapter 27
“Lady Arabella Sinclair, Your Grace,” the butler said as he showed Arabella into the drawing room, a footman behind them laden with an easel, a canvas, and a box full of paints.
“Thank you,” Sebastian replied, not looking up from his newspaper. “You may leave us.”
