AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I would hardly venture to have an opinion on such a subject, my lord. I am no judge of artistic skill. And in any case, I have hardly seen much of your work, far less enough to make any comment, even had I the knowledge or standing to do so.”
“That is true enough. But you must take some of the fault for that.” He leveled a cool stare at her, eyes nearly gray in the light. “It is hard to work when one is being questioned at every turn about one’s personal habits.”
“That is perhaps true. But you did not bid me be silent, my lord, and you did not indicate that I should not ask any questions. Beyond that…” She rose from her seat and picked up a small tray, quite the minx. “Might I interest you in a fruit tart, my lord?” She leaned closer. “I have heard that you favor them.”
* * *
It was all he could do to avoid embarrassing himself with a repeat performance of the choking he had experienced the night before. He had thought she might be disquieted by the thinly veiled criticism, or that she might change the subject.
He had not expected her to have the audacity to stand and offer him the plate of fruit tarts, let alone reference the answer he himself had given her only a short while before.
Indeed, given her demeanor upon entering the dining room, he had expected her to be somewhat discomfited, and likely unwilling to participate in further discussion now that the implicit boundaries of their acquaintance had been restored between them.
Instead, she had the temerity to comment on his choice of tea! As if it was any of her business that he preferred herbal teas to loosen tight muscles and relax his mind as well as his body after a long session in his studio!
And he had found himself answering her, that was the oddest part of the whole scenario. He knew—properly speaking—that he ought to have reprimanded her, made clear that she was not to test his patience or exceed the boundaries of her station in comparison with his. And yet…
Perhaps it was a lingering memory from his youth: growing up the child of a lesser son of a titled lord with little power or prestige; whenhehad been the one constrained by the rules of his lesser station. Or perhaps it was a habit he retained yet from the battlefields, where rank mattered nothing, and lords and peasants were all so close to the same that it made no difference. Whatever the case, he found himself willing to engage in further conversation with her, even to respond to her words with gentle barbs of his own.
And she proved a good match in terms of wit, despite her original uncertainty. Certainly, there was no end to her boldness, and once her initial uncertainty was overcome, she showed no reserve in meeting him on the verbal field of engagement.
It was...refreshing. Amusing, even with the implications of disrespect. He had not realized how much he had missed such candid conversation. It was true that he could speak so with Jackson, but he had not realized how much his spirit had resisted the subtle changes his new rank had wrought upon his interactions with others.
Hetty was still holding the plate full of fruit tarts. He was half-tempted to wave them away, just to see what she would do, but the scent rising from them was one of blackberries, and he did enjoy those. He dipped his head to concede the point to her and took two tarts from the plate.
Hetty smiled, then served herself another and resumed her seat. “I fear it is not peach, my lord.”
“Blackberry is perhaps not my favorite, Miss Smith, but neither is it a flavor I dislike. Though perhaps you have a different opinion.”
“I have no objections to berries of any sort, my lord.” Hetty took a bite of her tart, her cheeks suddenly flaming red as she turned her head away from him.
What could possibly…Daniel felt his cheeks warm, and his trousers suddenly felt somewhat constricting as he recalled one of the more socially acceptable euphemisms for a certain portion of male anatomy. He had been trying to ignore that particular part of his body since he’d left her to change back into her clothes, and he’d been managing rather well until this precise moment.
The game of words between them had taken a whole new turn, and he was at something of a loss in how to respond. He was no inexperienced youth, far from it, but this was still a situation to which he was not accustomed. He chanced a glance at the clock. It was hardly late by usual standard, but he was aware that she did need to return to London and her brother.
Hetty chose that moment to break the odd silence between them. “Will we be having another session today, my lord?”
He seized the opportunity with a sense of relief. “We shall not. It is getting late in the day, and I am aware of your other responsibilities, Miss Smith. No, we shall recommence work at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. If you can manage to be on time.”
Her cheeks flamed crimson again. “Of course, my lord. But if you have no more for me to do, then I should be returning to London.”
“Of course.”
Daniel sighed as he finished the last of his tart and tea. He would have liked to continue their game, but he could hardly keep a young woman like Miss Smith indefinitely. She did have her brother to return to and quite possibly other duties.
He rose from his seat and offered her a hand from her chair. He signaled Danvers to bring her cloak. After a moment, he offered her his arm. “Come, I shall walk you to the gates, to be sure your conveyance is waiting.”
“I do appreciate the thought, my lord, but it is not necessary.”
“Necessary or not, I should be a poor sort of gentleman to let a lady walk alone, and possibly wait alone by the side of the road. Artist and recluse I may be, but I am yet a gentleman.”And did I not just yesterday disdain the sort of man who would have a lady make her way alone? Though she would not know that, I suppose.
“I would never say otherwise, my lord.” After a moment, she laid her hand gently on his arm. “I thank you for your courtesy.”
“It is no matter.” He brushed it aside.
Her hand was small and pale and warm, where it rested on his arm. Her presence at his side as they strode up the drive put him in mind of a warm fire on a wintry night.
He was half-tempted to demand she stay, and he immediately chastised himself for the thought. He was fortunate enough that she had offered her services, and more fortunate still that she had not objected to being nearly naked and completely alone in his presence.
