Charlotte knew she should have been repelled, but something about the hard-edged planes and sculpted contours of his features held her in thrall. There was a cold beauty to him, and she felt her fingers itch to take up her paintbrush and capture that chilling aura of a man in supreme command of his emotions.
“I’m merely asking for any information you hear that relates to Holworthy’s murder, nothing more. And I am not asking you to aid me from the goodness of your heart.” Wrexford added slowly, his growl rough with sarcasm, “I shall pay you very well. Far more, in fact, than you earn from your tawdry scribbles.”
Stung by his scorn, Charlotte retorted, “Call them what you will, but my art makes quite a lot of blunt.”
“And as I said, I’ll pay you more.” He then named a sum that made her blink.
“H-How do I know you’ll keep your bargain on that?” she demanded.
“Because you have my word on it.” Wrexford shifted on the stool, the slight movement causing the candle flames to sputter. “As a gentleman.”
“Ha. You may have a high and mighty title, milord, but from all I know of your life, you are no gentleman.”
That brought the first flicker of emotion to his face. “You are welcome to ridicule my less than admirable exploits, Mrs. Sloane. But question my honor and—”
“And what? You will challenge me to a duel?” she cut in. “Be advised, I, too, have a very large knife and know how to use it.”
The room went unnaturally still. Charlotte tensed. The earl was notorious for having an explosive temper. And she had just tossed a handful of sparks into the powder keg.
He leaned forward—and let out a peal of laughter.
“Carve me to shreds on paper, Mrs. Sloane. But I have a feeling that in person we will rub together quite enough.
“W-What makes you think that?”
“Because I take care never to underestimate the absurdity of mankind.”
“You have a very cynical view of human nature, milord.”
“Which is something we have in common,” he replied.
The statement took Charlotte aback. “There is a fundamental difference between us, milord. I observe the nuances of how people behave and record what I see in order to earn a living. But, unlike you, I take no glee in the foibles of others.”
“And yet you expose those unfortunate to draw your eye to public ridicule and profit from it. So do you really think you have the right to stand on higher moral ground?”
Charlotte looked away, feeling a little shaken. Was he right? A part of her did take satisfaction in skewering greed, arrogance, and hypocrisy. Did that make her a hypocrite too?
“I make no claim to be a saint, Lord Wrexford,” she said softly.
He laughed again. “All the more reason we will deal well together.” He cocked his head. “Wedohave a deal, don’t we?”
“Given the alternative, you seem the lesser of two evils,” answered Charlotte. “However, I do have one other demand before the bargain is sealed.”
“The sum I offered is a handsome one—”
“I’m not asking for more money, sir.”
His brows rose in question.
“What I want from you is time. Not a great deal of it, as I imagine you are a busy man.”
“Might I ask for what reason?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “You have an interesting face. I’d like you to sit for a sketch.”
“You’ve already drawn me,” he said dryly. “Numerous times.”
“Not a caricature, sir. A watercolor portrait,” explained Charlotte. “Simply for art’s sake. It won’t be displayed in public.”
