Page 75 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“I think they’re beautiful.”
“I quite agree,” a voice boomed behind her, and she nearly leaped into the fountain.
Avendale came to stand on the other side of her, and she had to fight not to reach out to him, not to step nearer and curl against his side. Her resistance where he was concerned was nonexistent. She just didn’t know if she could be content to be a mistress for the remainder of her life. Considering her past, marriage was not feasible. “There is beauty, truth, honesty in the naked form,” Avendale said. “I find it a crime that society is so bothered by it that it must be covered with an abundance of clothing.” With a grin, he shook her skirt as though to demonstrate what clothing entailed, in case she wasn’t aware.
“Would the sight of it not lose its appeal if it were always visible?” she asked, even knowing that she would never tire of seeing him without clothing. “Perhaps we would begin to take it for granted.”
“I continue to find this couple arousing and they’ve been here for years.”
“But then you’re debauched. I’m sure your wife will have them taken away.”
“No doubt, so I must enjoy them while I may. What do you think, Harry? Should I have chosen a fountain that displayed fish cavorting about?”
“Don’t bring him into this,” she chastised.
“Why? He has an opinion, doesn’t he? I’d like to hear it.”
Harry grinned, his face turned red, and he wouldn’t quite meet Rose’s gaze. “I like this one very much.”
“All men do. I think women do as well, but they have been trained to deny it. You like it, don’t you, Rose?”
She could not believe she was standing here discussing the naked form in front of her young brother. “I’ll admit it’s provocative, but decadent.”
“Do you know, Harry, I’ve had gatherings where women have danced naked in that fountain?”
Harry’s jaw dropped only slightly more than Rose’s did.
“I suspected you were a libertine,” she said.
“I’ve never denied it.” He touched her cheek. “Do you want the fountain gone? I’ll have it taken away if it makes you uncomfortable.”
It only made her uncomfortable when she was standing here discussing it with her brother. Otherwise she thought it the most beautiful piece of artwork she’d ever seen. It was a ridiculous offer he made when she wasn’t going to be in his life all that long. “I rather like it, but I enjoy the roses more. Shall we explore the flowers, Harry?”
“Yes, before it rains.”
“Is it going to rain again, then?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a moment,” Avendale said, his dark brown eyes narrowed. “Is he the reason you knew it was going to rain the other night?”
She couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. “He has an uncanny ability to predict the weather. That does not negate our bet as I admitted to having the information on good authority.”
He chuckled low. “So you did. I’ll leave you to enjoy the gardens then, while you may.”
He walked off, and she’d rather hoped that he would join them. She appreciated that he wasn’t constantly hovering, that he was giving her a little bit of time alone with Harry. It was silly that she should miss him. She needed to shore up her heart or she was going to leave here a broken woman.
She slipped her hand within the crook of Harry’s arm. “Shall we go exploring?”
Using his cane for support, he shuffled along slowly, admiring every flower. She thought every sort imaginable had to be in these gardens. Harry stopped to feel the petals, to inhale the fragrances, to admire the colors. The other residences in the area were far enough away that no one would be able to see him clearly. And if they did, she suspected Avendale would handle the matter admirably.
Harry was examining a pink rose when he asked quietly, “Will you dance in the fountain for him?”
“What? No! Most assuredly not.”
He gave her a shrewd look, her brother who had never been shrewd in his life to her knowledge. “Do you dance for him out of it?”
She’d always considered her brother an innocent, had assumed he didn’t know what happened between a man and a woman, but of course he knew. After all he was a man. It saddened her to think he would never experience the closeness of a woman or the sort of love that could exist between two people who weren’t related through blood. What was she doing mooning about? She wasn’t going to experience that sort of love either.
