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Cressida laughed. “Do you ever censor what you say?”
“Sometimes, but not with you. Our friendship will be an honest one.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said, smiling.
Unable to dismiss the temptation, Cressida rose slightly on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her lips lingered, her lashes fluttered closed, and she inhaled his scent deep inside her lungs. Surely this fragrance would sleep with her tonight.
She hurried behind the screen and dressed as neatly as she could without the assistance of a maid.
“Do you need my help?” he asked, drifting closer.
“Perhaps with pinning my hair and affixing my wig. My sister helped me with it earlier.”
Nicholas assisted with her hair, and she said nothing at his ease with tidying a lady’s hair. Once she was fully dressed and felt presentable enough, she affixed her mask and slipped from his dwelling to the waiting carriage. Cressida settled inside, not at all surprised to see Leigh.
“Cressida!” her sister cried as the carriage rumbled into motion.
“What is it?”
“Your lips are swollen as if you have been most thoroughly kissed.”
Though she flushed, Cressida did not deny it. Instead, she laughed, hugging her arms around her waist.
“Did that wretch seduce you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Whatever kisses we shared were mutually wanted.”
“Oh, Cress, are you certain you know what you are doing?”
“I am,” she assured her sister.
Yet as she leaned back against the squabs, Cressida couldn’t help thinking that she had never felt this unmoored in all her two and twenty years. But instead of feeling scared she was decidedly intrigued.
CHAPTER9
“Are you aware that you are staring at Lady Cressida like a starving man in need of a morsel?” David Maitland, Viscount Barlow asked, taking a sip of his champagne.
“Was I really that obvious?” Nicholas asked drily, doing his best to look away from the lady who held court amongst her set in the large ballroom below.
Several ladies and gentlemen danced a quadrille, and laughter along with facile chatter flittered through the air. Though she shone like a beautiful diamond in a dark silver gown, with matching elbow gloves and dancing slippers, the lady had not deigned to dance since her arrival some hours ago.
Lord Barlow propped his shoulders on a column, his dark green eyes sparking with curiosity. Nicholas had become fast friends with the viscount several months ago when the man had commissioned him to do a family portrait. The viscount’s patronage had given much credibility and increased the demand for his paintings, and Nicholas was certain the man’s lauding of his work might have had something to do with his recent acceptance into The Royal Academy of Arts.
He had yet to decide if he should accept the place there. It did not escape his awareness that something that had been a dream for so many years now felt empty. There was a restless dissatisfaction within him that hungered for more. On the heels of that thought, his gaze unwittingly sought the lady who had indeed tormented his dreams for the last few nights. So much so he had not sent word that it was time for their second painting session. It had amused Nicholas that he needed more time to shore up his restraint so that he did not fall on her like a ravishing marauder.
“Do you have a tendre for Lady Cressida?”
“What I feel for the lady is unimportant.”
“Ah,” Barlow said, “so you do feel something? Let me warn you now my friend, you might be a handsome devil with the reputation of a legendary lover, but the lady is affianced to Linfield.”
“Odd that,” Nicholas drawled, a dark mood settling on him at the reminder why she was allowing him to paint her. “I’ve not heard the anticipated announcement, have you?”
Barlow’s eyes gleamed. “You know something.”
“Merely an observation, my friend, an observation.”
The viscount slapped him on the shoulder. “I am off to White’s; do you join me?”
