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“And you do not?” Sebastian hid his smile.
“I have to say that I do not quite see the splendor in naked female flesh. Especially so much of it.” She was still blushing.
“Perhaps you prefer naked male flesh?”
Her mouth half opened in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. “I do not find the display of utter lack of inhibitions beautiful. I prefer modesty and decent human decorum.”
“People were not meant to be hidden inside those contraptions.” Sebastian waved his hand to indicate her clothing. He knew she would find fault in his behavior again. But he quite enjoyed making this lady uncomfortable.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pursed. “Perhaps in France, this passes for a decent conversation with a lady, but here in England, it is different. Women are not allowed to ogle human flesh while in the company of a strange man.”
“How boring,” he drawled. “But let us be strangers no more. My name is Sebastian.”
She straightened. “And yet anotherfaux pas.You are to introduce yourself with your title, not your name.”
“Since we’ve already broken etiquette by discussing naked human flesh, I thought we could skip the formalities.”
“I am afraid it is not possible.” The lady was simply tiresome.
“What is it that prevents you from having a conversation with me about art? Is it truly the restrictions of your society? Your own moral uptightness or the fact that you’re blushing?”
“I am not blushing,” she countered immediately, although her cheeks were cherry red, and her eyes held a curious glint.
Sebastian grinned. “Perhaps you rather like these paintings. You are just not willing to admit the truth.”
She straightened. “These women were not painted as objects of art; they were painted as objects of male lust. See how her bosom is accentuated, and her thin waist? The way her legs are…” She paused as if realizing she’d gone too far. Wasn’t referring to body parts just as scandalous as being alone with a gentleman? She cleared her throat. “If you wanted to express your appreciation of human nature, you would buy a painting of an old man, all wrinkled and weary, or a woman who is tired from her daily chores, her calloused fingers, with a crying babe at her side. And they wouldnotbe naked.”
“What if I want to appreciate human form, not human nature?”
“Then you should pick someone less perfect.”
Sebastian smiled slowly.Ah, now we are getting somewhere. “And who would be less perfect?”
“Someone with uneven features and a disproportionate figure. We are not all like this under our corsets,” she said, not realizing where that would lead Sebastian’s mind. Yes, he’d love to see exactly what she looked like under the corset.
“But, see, therein lies the problem,” he said softly as he stepped closer to her. “People who feel like they are less than perfect rarely allow themselves to be painted.”
“Perhaps you weren’t looking hard enough.” She tilted her chin up stubbornly.
“Would you like to prove me wrong?”
“I am certain London has many people who—”
“No, prove me wrong right now. Allow me to paintyou.”
She let out a gasp. “You have no idea how insulting you are being at the moment, do you?”
“I think it is an honor—”
“You are not even a real artist! You pretend to be a connoisseur to gape at naked female flesh and then insult other ladies by trying to get them to disrobe in front of you to prove something. Well, I do not need to prove anything to anyone. And I have spent an inordinate amount of time conversing with you tête-à-tête, which is not allowed in our society, so I bid you a good day.”
Sebastian blinked, for he did not have the time to do or say anything else before his muse was gone.
Just like that.
Sebastian felt his blood simmering in his veins and his heart beating wildly. For the first time in a long time, he felt… alive.
