Page 27 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
“I did not wish to interrupt.”
“You’re meddling, painter. It’s not your place.”
“I’m aware of my place, my lord. It’s at your mother’s side.”
“She’ll not marry you, no matter how much you may wish it.”
“Then I shall be content with whatever she grants me.”
Again, Claire could feel the tension between the two men. She rose. “Leo, may we postpone these sessions until the Season is under way. I have so much left to accomplish and to help prepare Beth.”
He bowed. “Of course, my lady. I shall take the canvas with me and work on what I can. Send word when you’re again ready to pose.”
“As I’m no longer needed, I have matters to which to attend,” Westcliffe stated succinctly before striding from the room.
Claire knew she should leave as well. It was not appropriate for her to be alone in the bedchamber with another man. She almost laughed with the absurd thought. She should have realized that on her wedding night.
But the door was open. And Leo obviously had no interest in her other than as a subject for his art.
“Perhaps you would do a portrait of Beth,” she said, to fill the quiet of the room.
He stopped in the midst of gathering his supplies and smiled at her. “I’d be delighted.” Then he glanced at the doorway. “So what happened between you and his lordship after the duchess and I left last night and before I arrived this afternoon?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I notice the subtleties in people. Yesterday, I believe he wanted to wring your neck. Today, it appeared he desperately wished to lay his lips against it.”
She felt the heat of embarrassment shoot through her, as well as a thrilling spark. Had the kiss meant more to him than simply a demonstration? She rubbed the nape of her neck where he had continually stroked her. “I’m certain you’re mistaken.”
His expression was kind, encouraging, and she comprehended why the duchess wanted him in her life.
“This Season is an opportunity for your sister to secure a husband. Perhaps it will serve the same purpose for you.”
Tessa lay sprawled against Leo’s side. She’d had numerous lovers in her life, but only one had meant more to her than he did. She knew what Leo wanted of her, but she couldn’t grant it. She was forty-five, and he was all of thirty. Her first husband had been twenty years older than she, but no one had considered it scandalous. Yet when a woman was much older than the man, Society frowned. And while she might thumb her nose at them in public, in private she worried that they’d eventually wear down Leo’s affections for her.
“How were matters between my son and his wife today?” she asked, circling her finger over his chest while he casually stroked her arm.
“I think something happened between them.”
“Of course it did. She betrayed—”
“No, I mean last night. I sensed a sensual tension in the air. He tried to ignore it by bantering with me.”
“Do you think he’s forgiven her?”
“No, but he might.”
She sighed. “He won’t forgive Stephen until he’s forgiven her.”
“Is that what this is about, Tessa? Are you trying to reconcile your sons?”
“It breaks my heart that they are at odds. They are brothers. They share the same blood.”
“Only their mother’s.”
She stiffened, her lungs refusing to draw in air. Raising herself up slightly, she stared down on him. “Why ever would you say that?”
Reaching up, he threaded his fingers through her hair. “I know that the previous Earl of Westcliffe did not sire Stephen. Do your sons know?”
