Page 22 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
“It’s the light and shadows, the way I use them. It’s a relatively new technique, brings an artistic flair to the method, if you will, that elevates the work to something beyond a simple picture.”
“They’re in love,” she said with utter conviction.
“The monkeys?”
“Yes.” She looked at him. He didn’t remember her eyes being so dark, so intense. And he was hit with the memory of other dark, intense eyes. On the cusp of that thought, he became aware of the scent of verbena drifting toward him. It took every ounce of control he could muster not to react, not to spin her completely around, not to peruse and catalog every inch of her. She could be the right height, depending on the heel of her shoe, her body the right shape if all the padding, petticoats, and corset were gone. He wished he could see her hair in flickering candlelight. He recalled its being darker, no hints of red. Here, in the brighter lighting, it was the incorrect shade. She was no doubt the wrong woman. He was just so desperate to find Lady V that he would imagine her in any woman he spoke with. But why hadn’t he imagined her as any of the others who had given him attention thus far this evening?
“You’re telling a story here,” she said. “They’re devoted to each other.”
Her voice was wrong. It wasn’t smoky and raspy, resembling a whisper. Could she disguise it? Never slipping? But it was more than the timbre that gave him doubts. She spoke as though they were passing strangers, as though they hadn’t spent an hour together, as though they’d never kissed. “They’re animals, Miss Dodger.”
“They’re soul mates.”
He might have laughed except that she was so blasted serious. And she could be Lady V. No, she was too practical for that. Then it occurred to him that perhaps she was exactly practical enough to want to know what all the fuss was about. Bold enough to go after it. While he’d not spent much time in her immediate company, knew her mostly by reputation, he had observed her from afar at balls, dancing with one gent or another, of late seeming to spend more time standing among the wallflowers yet separate from them. She would never be one to blend in. While most ladies would shrivel and shrink back if their dance cards weren’t written on, she’d always left him with the impression of being someone who couldn’t have cared less, someone waiting to throw down a gauntlet if the opportunity struck. “Tell me you don’t believe in such nonsense.”
“Unlike your storytelling cohort, I’m not one to lie, Your Grace.”
“Edward? What lie do you speak of?”
She arched a finely shaped eyebrow. “He confessed that you didn’t defeat the lion without assistance.” She nodded toward another photograph. “Is that him, the one you killed?”
Censure didn’t ring in her voice, but sadness thickened it. He wished he hadn’t brought that particular photo. Almost hadn’t. It saddened him as well, yet he was also remarkably proud of it. “Yes.”
“He was measuring you up. Misjudged.”
“Many often do.” Grimacing, he wondered why in the blue blazes he’d revealed that tidbit, especially to her. He couldn’t recall any of their previous conversations. Yet here he was blathering on as though his tongue had separated itself from his brain.
Tilting her head slightly, she studied him. “I find your work quite astonishing.”
“It’s my passion.”
“Truly? Based on the rumors, I’d been led to believe that women were.”
She didn’t even blush. Most women would have. No, most wouldn’t have voiced the words. She was no shy miss, but was she bold enough for the Nightingale? He was intrigued by the possibility. “One does not exclude the other, but you are correct. Women are first, and foremost, my most beloved passion.”
“And yet, you have none here among your collection. You have men and children, but no women.”
“A good many of the native women bared their breasts.” He was hoping to make her blush with his candor, but she met his gaze head-on, no pinkening of her cheeks, no averting of her eyes. Lady V hadn’t looked away either. “I fear our hostess was rather offended by their display and refused to allow me to share them. I had no luck convincing her that the beauty of the human body is not something to be hidden away. Perhaps you would like to see them sometime.”
Now she was blushing, a deep lush hue that traveled high over her cheeks, and somehow managed to journey into his soul. Was she blushing at the possibility of viewing breasts or was his talk of the beauty of the human body causing her to recall images from last night?
“I’m not sure it would be appropriate,” she said. “They sound rather risqué.”
“They don’t dress as they do to titillate. Rather, they have been raised in the glorifying freedom of not feeling shame with what God has bestowed. I envy their simpler dress. I assume, considering how much your clothing must weigh, that you would as well.”
“You assume too much.” She glanced around. “Where is Lord Locksley?”
Her interest in his friend struck him like a physical blow, which made no sense as he wasn’t lusting after her, didn’t want to carry her from this room and up the stairs to a bed—yet he couldn’t deny that neither did he want to walk away. “Off fighting his demons.”
She blinked, her lips parted slightly, and he wondered if he kissed her at that precise moment if he would be able to determine if he’d kissed her the night before. Perhaps lust was involved after all.
“Don’t look so surprised. We all have our demons, even you, Miss Dodger. Perhaps that’s the reason I saw you at the Twin Dragons shortly after midnight last night.”
Chapter 6
OH dear Lord help her, he was onto her!
Minerva’s heart slammed so hard against her ribs that she was certain she heard a bone crack. Her first instinct was to rail at him for breaking his promise not to demand her address of his driver. That had to be the reason he mentioned the Twin Dragons. He knew where she’d been dropped off—and he was forbidden from mentioning the Nightingale Club.
