Page 25 of Rogue Lyon

“I can almost hear them!”

He laughed and clapped his hands. “So can I. And the detail of the clothing, look…”

She stepped closer to admire the jewel-colored gowns and tunics of the crowd.

“What do you think, honestly?” he asked from close behind her.

“I think… I think the sum equals more than the parts. It is simple paint, plain canvas, but put together by such an accomplished artist. It’s a work of genius. It’s spellbinding, an entire story brought to life.”

He was quiet for a long moment and then said, “You really are as good a pupil as you are a teacher.” He very gently stroked his finger down the nape of her neck.

She gasped and turned. Looking up at his face, she was surprised by how close he was.

He grinned and then ran his hand from her shoulder to her hand and took it in his.

“Jules,” she whispered as a tremble followed his touch. Her belly tightened and for a moment, she wished they were alone so that he could touch her all over.

“And now we will browse,” he said. “Ask me anything. I am familiar with all of the artwork here.”

She sucked in a breath and tried to steady her heartbeat. A hand of cards and a few chess moves and here she was in a picture gallery with a man from whom she should probably stay away but whom she was unable to resist.

An hour later, and with Meredith’s mind spinning with all of the images she had learned about, they stepped outside.

The air had chilled and the sky had darkened. She fiddled with her umbrella.

“I have a suspicion inclement weather is coming.” Jules clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “And soon.”

“Where is Nancy?” Meredith searched the lawns and tall, wind-ruffled trees. Two benches were empty. A small party of nuns rushed past with their heads bowed against the wind. There was no sign of either Nancy or her cousin.

“Do you know where she might have gone?” Jules asked.

“No, not a clue. I have not been to this part of London before.” Anxiety gripped her. What was she to do?

“I suggest we get a carriage before the heavens open.”

“But we can’t leave her…”

“She was heading out on her own before I saw her. I’m sure Nancy is quite capable of looking after herself and making her own decisions.”

“Yes, but…” It didn’t seem right to just leave.

A huge spot of rain landed on the end of her nose. “Oh, dear.” She brushed at it and fiddled with her umbrella to wipe it off. “We are out of time.”

Jules was already hailing a carriage and within seconds, they were undercover. The rain came down in a biblical onslaught, hail mixed in and wind that sliced through the small gaps in the windows.

“Where are we going?” she asked, peering out and not recognizing the route they had taken earlier.

“To my home.”

“What?” She gasped. “I can’t go to your home unchaperoned.”

He laughed. “Do not fear. Mrs. Buxton will be there.”

“And who is Mrs. Buxton?”

“My cook. She will be busy preparing dinner as we speak.”

“But I can’t. I…”