Fanny Waverly’s enthusiastic voice broke through Lucien’s disordered thoughts. “I would give anything to study art in Italy, Cassandra! Did you see the great masters?”
“Yes, in spite of the nuns.”
“Nuns?” someone echoed.
“Convents usually have them,” Cassandra said. “That is where we lived in Italy. But I wasn’t about to be cloistered. I would climb over the wall and run away to the museums. My friend Paola would meet me there with my paints and sketchbooks so I could make copies of my favorites.”
Paola, Lucien thought. The maid with the eyepatch.
“How deliciously romantic!” Kitty Waverly exclaimed.
“Until you get murdered wandering the streets alone,” Lucien muttered under his breath.
Fanny clasped her hands to her breast. “I’d give anything to go to Italy for art lessons.”
“I intend to continue my work here,” Cassandra told her. “Penelope has helped me make a studio out of a room with good light. There are easels and paints and fresh canvas—everything an artist could ask for.”
Penelope looked at Lucien as if to sayjust as you ordered.
“My completed canvases arrived yesterday from Florence.”
“Perhaps we can hang some of your work in the gallery or entry hall to make this feel more like your home.” Penelope said warmly.
“That would beperfect,” she said.
Cassandra’s lips curled in an unsettling way, but Lucien’s focus was on Grace. “Shall we continue with another dance?” Lucien said. “A waltz.”
A waltz.
Grace startled at the low command in Lucien’s voice.
As Kitty returned to the piano, he strode toward Grace and bowed, his blue eyes fixed on her in a way that made her feel like she had been tippling punch.
If that was the way he looked when asking for a dance, it was no wonder every woman in London was flinging themselves at his feet.
An exquisitely tailored coat of black superfine fit him to perfection. His waistcoat of claret silk gleamed, his snowy-white cravat crisp beneath his square jaw. She felt the urge to thread her fingers through his hair, muss it, just a little, to prove he was not quite so perfect as he seemed.
She stepped into his arms and their surroundings faded. He splayed his right hand on the curve of her back, the warmth of his hard palm penetrating the thin fabric of her gown. Kitty played the first strains of something by Schubert, and Lucien took hold of Grace’s hand, drew her close. So close she could feel his breath feather against her cheek as they began to whirl about the floor.
“My lord, you surprise me in your choice of dance,” she managed to tease, her heart hammering. “If I recall, you loathed waltzing when we had lessons.”
Something intense fired in his eyes as he peered down at her, and she felt it all the way to her toes.
Those bone-meltingly sensual lips parted, but before he could speak, the sounds of harried voices could be heard above the strains of music—some kind of disturbance sounded in the entryway. The sound of agitated servants grew so loud Kitty struck a discordant note and fell silent. The guests stumbled to a halt and exchanged confused looks. “A late arrival?” someone guessed.
Lord Everdene’s hand dug into her waist so tight she knew it would leave a mark. His shoulder tensed beneath her fingertips like iron cords as the music faltered and he jolted to a stop. For a heartbeat, the handsome planes of the viscount’s face turned stark, vulnerable. In the next breath his countenance was stone. The door burst open, a man of about sixty entering the room.
Jane shrank back. Cassandra raced to her side.
The Earl of Ravenscroft strode toward his daughters, his face suffused with unholy pleasure.
CHAPTER 7
Even as a child Grace had disliked the earl. Ravenscroft had loomed over every occasion, crowding people, his booming voice obliterating what anyone else had to say. In the ensuing years he’d become a rather frail old man, but he’d obviously not lost his taste for making a grand entrance.
Lord Everdene dropped his hand from Grace’s waist and moved toward his father. “What are you doing here?” His words seared through the room like lightning.
“An acquaintance informed me that my daughters had arrived at Everdene Hall and there was a party being given in their honor. My invitation must have gone astray.”
