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‘Really?’ Theo looked bemused. ‘Why on earth should anyone imagine I would be a good catch?’
‘Don’t fish for compliments,’ Elinor said, her lips twitching, amused despite herself that she had made a pun.
Theo grinned back. ‘Go on, flatter me, my morale needs boosting.’
‘You are very well connected, healthy, intelligent, well-off—provided you do not have to repay Lord X—and moderately good looking, assuming one discounts the hair of course.’
‘I suppose I should be glad of the moderately,’ he said with mock gloom. ‘Go on—is there anything else on the plus side of the account?’
‘You are a talented artist, have good taste and a sense of humour. And you—’ She broke off, confused at where her list was taking her, and bit her lip.
‘And I what?’ Theo was watching her mouth.
‘You kiss very well.’
‘Thank you,’ he said gravely. ‘And might I ask what basis for comparison you have, Miss Ravenhurst?’
‘None, except Leon, but I do not think he can be very good. He kissed me and I did not feel a thing.’
‘Indeed? Excuse me for a moment while I fight the urge to feel smug. But I feel bound to point out that he was kissing you in a dark and gloomy dungeon, which might well have dampened your feelings of ardour.’
‘You kissed me on a study floor,’ Elinor pointed out. ‘And that was very stimulating.’
‘For both of us.’ Theo got to his feet. ‘Are you going to stay here and rest?’
‘Rest?’ It took Elinor a moment to remember he thought her to be feeling delicate. ‘Goodness, no. I think I will escape for a walk before Mama finds me and gives me something dreary to do indoors. Those woods look beautiful. I thought I would climb up through them and see if there is a view of the basilica from the top.’
‘May I come with you? The library can wait for a wet day, if one ever comes. The weather is so beautiful it seems set to be like this for ever.’
‘I will see you at the front door in fifteen minutes,’ Elinor said. ‘How lovely to get out of here and away from all those sharp tongues and prying eyes.’
She was before him, hurrying through the hall, enjoying the freedom of her new divided skirt and not noticing the other figure standing there until she was almost upon them.
‘Marquesa.’ Ana was wearing the original of Elinor’s garment.
‘Miss Ravenhurst. And where did you find the pattern for your habit, might I ask?’
‘Theo drew it for me,’ Elinor said cheerfully. ‘He was able to describe it in detail.’
‘So I should hope, he has removed it often enough.’
‘Were you his mistress for very long?’ Elinor enquired, refusing to gratify the woman by showing any embarrassment.
Ana drew in her breath in a sharp hiss. ‘He is my lover—I was never his mistress. There is a difference.’
‘I am sure there is.’ Elinor gave no sign that she noticed Ana’s use of the present tense, although a sharp stab of jealousy knotted her inside. ‘What fun for you, to find a man so much younger than yourself.’
‘Comparing fashion tips, ladies?’ It was Theo, his satchel over one shoulder. He reached out and took Elinor’s easel. ‘Come on, my love, let’s take advantage of this light.’
He nodded to Ana as he swung the heavy door open and Elinor went through, not looking at the other woman, but hearing her indrawn hiss of angry breath.
‘Not tactful to call one woman my love in front of another who has just declared you are her lover. Present tense.’
Theo swung the easel on to his back and grimaced. ‘She isn’t.’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me.’ Elinor walked through the arch under the gatehouse and turned uphill along a steep track. She was feeling decidedly flustered. She had stood up to Ana on instinct; now she was realising that she was way out of her depth, sparring with a woman of the marquesa’s experience. ‘We aren’t betrothed. Remember?’
‘What you think matters to me.’ Surprised, Elinor looked back over her shoulder and slowed her pace. ‘I respect your opinion and your judgement.’
