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“We will get to that.” The Marquess stepped past her, moving to a small, out-of-the-way table. “There are other things to be seen to first. Miss Smith, if you would kindly remove your clothing.”
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CHAPTERFIVE
Henrietta gaped at the Marquess in disbelief. “I-I beg your pardon, my lord?” She wasn’t sure which surprised her more, the command itself, or how he seemed composed as if he had done nothing more than ask her to hand him a glass of water.
“Your clothing. I wish to model you, not your clothing.” The Marquess paused in the act of rolling up his sleeves and waved to a screened-off corner she hadn’t paid attention to before. “Go behind there, remove your clothing, and wrap yourself in the sheet you will find. If you can manage a Grecian-styled wrap, so much the better. In any case, I should like you to leave one or both shoulders bared. You may also take the opportunity to restyle your hair, but do keep it simple and do not take too much time.”
Henrietta could feel her face burning. “I...yes, of course.” She fled behind the screen before she could say anything that might give away her deception or otherwise embarrass her further.
Undress? He wanted her to pose mostly naked for him. She had never considered that he might ask her to do that. She had thought he might provide some costume for her to wear, but not this. Never this. She looked at the neatly folded linen sheet.
Her cheeks flamed again, so much so she feared she might set the screen itself on fire. She had never been so...well, she had never had any man make such a bold demand of her, not even her fiancé so many years ago.
How was a young lady to act when faced with such boldness and such a cavalier attitude?
She swallowed hard. Hetty Smith. Hetty Smith was a model and should have no issue with complying with a request that Henrietta Stanton found entirely too impudent. But Henrietta Stanton was not here, and Hetty Smith was.
Ears and face still burning crimson with embarrassment, she removed the borrowed Sarah’s attire one article at a time, setting it aside neatly. She felt vaguely scandalous, removing her stockings, dress, and chemise in the presence of a man, even if she was behind a privacy screen, and she nearly lost her nerve when she began to remove her undergarments.
What was she doing? Could shereallygo through with this?
God in heaven, she’d had no idea this would happen. She shuffled a bit as she removed her stockings and eyed the sheet that had been left for her. The lightweight fabric would leave little to the imagination with the sunlight shining behind it. Even for a wager, this was far too close to intimacy and impropriety!And yet, it is a little exciting.The Marquess was quite easy on the eyes, and his voice...she thought she could get used to hearing such a voice on a regular basis, particularly if he was always so cool and commanding.
She gave herself a quick shake. This was no time to be musing on the Marquess’ finer qualities. She had a wager to win and a match to make, and in any case, she was not the sort to go falling for good looks and smooth manners. She had no desire to enter a courtship, particularly after how her last one had ended, and no plans to pursue the Marquess, given her word to Eva.
Nervously, she picked up the sheet and draped it awkwardly around her frame, leaving one shoulder bare as requested. The result, to her eyes, looked nothing like a Grecian dress, but she had no idea how to improve upon the appearance without further mortification.
Stars and saints above, I do hope I can go through with this without making too much of a blunder. How this could get more embarrassing and difficult, I’m certain I’ve no idea.
* * *
Daniel watched as Hetty disappeared behind the screen, her face and throat sporting a ruby color that had nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with embarrassment and flustered modesty—or he was no judge.
What on earth had set her off so? She had said she was a model. Surely, this wasn’t the first time she had faced such a request. His art might be more therapeutic than professional, but he knew many artists employed models in various states of undress. Yet she acted like a maiden disrobing for the first time, rather than an experienced model.
He finished rolling up his sleeves and putting on his working smock, then he waited for his model to appear.
It was almost ten minutes later that she finally emerged from behind the screen, sheet draped around her haphazardly. She more closely resembled a child in a bathing sheet than she did a goddess, hands clenched firmly in the linen and face rosy with embarrassment.
