Insolent scamp. “Do you actually know what any of these phrases mean?”
“Course,” Benjamin replied, blithely. “But I say ’em to bamboozle Englishmen.”
“Butyou’reEnglish.”
“How dare you!” The lad puffed out his thin chest. “Just cos you bought me aFair Maidenyesternight, don’t mean you can insult me. I’m Cornish. You are officially demoted to number two on my hero list.” And he huffed off, muttering about how the courageous Captain Lynch had never called him such a name.
“Did we not mention the outing, Jack?” The silky tone caught him unawares, and he glanced back to behold Tamsyn descend the stairs in a fetching smoke-grey dress, paint box tucked under her arm, an emerald-green ribbon encircling her throat once more. “I’m sure we can squeeze you in the carriage as the professor and Mr Sewell are following on horseback.”
That same emerald-green frippery had inveigled its way into his dreams last night, her cocoa-coloured hair splayed across his pillow, curling unaided, a Medusa’s lure. Winged creatures had flitted in the air and whispered erotic musings in his ear. Slender legs had clutched his naked hips, green ribbon binding their bodies together.
Scorching and inseparable.
His breath caught, chest so tight.
Maybe he’d succumbed to some incurable lung disease brought on by too much fresh salty air. He needed to visit the city and breathe in some coal-laden fog.
Better forgo the close quarters of a carriage and ride Jowlik instead.
∞∞∞
The Ladies Landscape League had never been so well attended, and twelve artists had donned aprons and set brush to canvas whilst servants wilted in the shade having heaved the extensive apparatus up the steep path to Carn Brea.
“It won’t do,” bewailed Lady Cooch, hand to brow and splodging red paint in her hair. “I need…perspective.” A sly glance cast its net. “Lord Winterbourne, would you be a dear and stand in front of the castle.”
The rogue’s lips curved. “Anything to assist, Lady Cooch.” And he ambled over.
“In that case…perhaps the removal of your jacket also. As a devotee ofprospettiva, I find plum quite distracts the eye.”
Sniggering, Tamsyn attempted to switch her gaze to the easel, realising she’d painted the sky green. Perchance she could upend her canvas.
Whoever married Jack would have to endure female fluttering eyelashes continually, she supposed. Could a rogue’s renown ever be forgotten?
“Will this suffice, Lady Cooch?”
All eyes swivelled as the marquess posed, hands on hips, fine muslin shirt sleeves lightly fluttering, fawn buckskin breeches snugly fitting.
A breeze of sighs warmed the already heated air.
Tamsyn splashed around some blue paint and mused that if Jack wasn’t careful, the ladies would stuff him for future use and rename themselves the Ladies Libertine League.
At the picnic, she’d been more than a little envious of his adoring admirers, flirtatious chat and easy manner but she realised today that it was simply a part of his nature to cheer people.
Beset with such tragedy in his youth, he’d learned to grasp joy, to scatter it and reap the return. The ladies cooed and the gentlemen chortled, but every now and then, he’d wink at her, cast a sly glance, or smile that crooked grin and she would feel special…even amongst all these admirers.
Before Jack had arrived, a small door had been creaking open in her life but he’d helped fling it wider, stuck his tasselled boot in, and let light flood forth. Perchance she could become a rogue-ess, devoting her days to pleasure.
Reviewing her canvas, Tamsyn found she’d painted the sun blue as well.
“Could you…” Mrs Tripconey’s eyes languidly perused from hessians to sooty curls, brush end tapping at her nose. “…bend forward a fraction, my lord. I can’t quite see the turret.”
“Like this,” he queried, expression as angelic as Lucifer’s, but Tamsyn noted not one gaze could be seen directed at any stone protrusions.
The poor castle looming behind him in ancient haughtiness appeared rather lacklustre, upstaged by a London lothario.
As she let her paintbrush meander, yellow smearing the land to autumn, the events of last night stretched into her mind.
His utter acceptance, his kind words.
