Page 4 of Real Earls Break the Rules

“Why?”

“I understand why you sought me out for a copy of Cuyp’s piece. But why would you think of me for your portrait?”

“Like I said, I saw your work at the shop. Exquisite.”

She was finding it hard to breathe. She felt lightheaded, as if her corset were laced too tight. The way he looked at her with those wicked green eyes. Was he calling her work exquisite or her?

She struggled to steady her erratic pulse. It wasn’t like her to fall victim to a good-looking man—no matter how attractive or tempting the dip in his chin. “You don’t understand. I am not a portrait painter, and it’s not a simple task. Artists train for years to paint portraits.”

“I have confidence in your ability, and I’d pay you for your services, of course. One hundred pounds.”

Amelia stifled a gasp. She may be the sister-in-law of the Earl of Huntingdon and not in need of funds, but her past wasn’t easily forgotten. Not long ago, that amount of money would have paid their rent and fed them for an entire winter and long into spring.

“It will have to be in increments. Twenty-five pounds when you arrive at Rosehill for my first portrait sitting and additional payments as the work progresses.”

Her voice rose in surprise. “Your home?”

“Yes. The upcoming house party offers the perfect opportunity. You can work in my study.”

It wasn’t just a matter of ability and money. A respectable female didn’t paint an earl’s portrait or work in his study painting anything. Eliza would throw a fit. How often had she talked about good marriages for both Amelia and Chloe?

“I’m afraid it isn’t proper. I must decline both offers.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and disturbing, troubled even, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it. She’d learned long ago to rely on her instincts. Her artistic eye focused and saw details others often missed.

He leaned an inch closer, and a wild fluttering began low in her belly.

“I understand your concerns. But it will be done in secret. No one but my most trusted servants enter my private study.”

It sounded illicit and exciting and the impulsive artist within her wanted to leap at the offer. She’d be able to preserve her reputation and have an unforgettable artistic experience. She would get paid for her artwork, but most of all, she would have the opportunity to paint him. The strong angles of his cheekbones and jaw, and the chips of green and yellow in his eyes. His perfect lips. His muscular form…

Wickedness.

What was she thinking? She wouldn’t be chaperoned, and she’d be alone with a bachelor—a handsome, virile man for hours each night. If anyone discovered the arrangement she’d be ruined.

She was not the person she’d been in the past. Hadn’t she struggled against her sinful nature and won? She hadn’t painted a forgery or thought of selling one in a long time. She looked toward a new, bright future, without the taint of her father’s blood.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, my lord. You will have to hire another artist. My answer is no.”

…

She was even more beautiful than Brandon remembered.

Her auburn hair gleamed beneath the early afternoon sunlight, and her sapphire eyes shone bright. When he first saw Amelia at the print shop a year ago, she’d worn a faded blue dress and apron—a shopkeeper’s garb. Today, fine silk hugged her curves and displayed the swell of her breasts to perfection.

He would have pursued her for pleasure then had his father, the old earl, not died, leaving him with a pile of debt, a line of ruthless creditors, and two sisters and a grandmother to care for. Brandon’s carefree life had come to an abrupt halt.

“May I ask why you refuse?”

Her brows drew downward. “I told you. It isn’t proper.”

“No one will learn of it. You can work each night in the privacy of my study, then safely return to your bedchamber until the paintings are complete. My sisters frequently nap in the day in order to stay up later during the Season, and you may do the same during the house party without arousing suspicion.”

He hadn’t been completely truthful when he told her he wanted a copy of the Dutch painting so that he could give the original to an acquaintance. He planned on keeping the copy, but selling the original. The money would pay for his sister’s upcoming wedding and buy him some time to cover his father’s bills. It would also pay Amelia for her work.

But he needed her to agree.

“Your offer of payment is generous, but I must still decline.”