Page 20 of What a Lord Wants

“You mean Alfred? Heavens no!” She fussed with her long gloves. “He might be the son of a duke, but he’s the youngest, with limited funds and no real prospects to speak of.” A self-pleased smile spread across her face. “But he does have some value. After all, he was able to secure me an invitation to tonight’s preview when I asked.”

“You went to a lot of trouble for nothing. I won’t marry you.”

“Marry me?” She laughed darkly, drawing the attention of nearby patrons. “Oh, darling! That was before, when you were merely a painter. But now that I know that you’re really a wealthy peer, I would never settle for being a mere wife. I want so much more than that.” She smiled like a crocodile. “I want to be your official mistress.”

She pulled her arm away. He had no choice but to let her go. He didn’t dare let her cause a scene.

“I want all the luxuries a marquess would afford his mistress—a fully staffed townhouse close to the park, a carriage and team, credit with all my favorite shops, and a sizable allowance for everything else I desire.” She fussed pointedly with her ruby and diamond bracelet. “A pretty bauble now and again would also be a lovely way to keep me content.”

“I won’t be blackmailed.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that. I can make it all worth your while.” She placed her hand flirtatiously on his sleeve. “You were quite enjoyable in bed. There’s no reason why we should deny ourselves that pleasure.”

He snapped bitterly, “As if I’d ever touch you again.”

“Then even better for me. All the benefits and none of the work.” She laughed lightly. “I guess itislike being a wife, after all.”

“You’ll get nothing from me.”

“Then I’ll expose you.” Her mouth hardened with venom. “No one will want a painting from Vincenzo when they discover you’ve been playing everyone for fools by lying for the past decade about who you really are. For God’s sake, you aren’t even Italian! To the art world, you’re no one and nothing. Your paintings will be worthless, and you’ll never sell another.Ifyou continue to paint at all, a ruined and scandal-ridden man, creating landscapes no one wants.”

His blood turned to ice water. He’d stumbled into hell, and the nightmare he’d feared for years was coming true.

“Just wait until society discovers that its most respected lord is the most shocking and disreputable painter of our time. All those stories they’ve heard about you will suddenly be believed, and your most notorious paintings re-examined not as brilliant works of art but as depraved creations. You’ll be removed from all the committees you serve on in Parliament and stripped of your patronage by the Royal Academy.” A wicked gleam lit her face. “Your precious career as an artist will be over, and not even your title will be able to save it.”

Cold fury pulsed through him. He wouldn’t be blackmailed. And he sure as hell wouldn’t let her strip his art away from him. She might as well plunge a knife into his chest.

“Go ahead and share what you know about me, Constance.” He indicated the crowded gallery around them, calling her bluff. “Do it right here, in front of the English art world and the cream of society.”

“Don’t think I won’t—”

“You’ll be laughed out the door.” She’d discovered that he was an aristocrat, so he’d show her exactly what the power and privilege of rank meant. “You have no proof to link me to Vincenzo except that my valet traveled to his studio. A studio from which the Marquess of Ellsworth has purchased several paintings in the past, which everyone in this room knows. The proof is hanging on the walls.” Despite the apprehension building inside him, he smiled in complete confidence. “Including a rather risqué portrait of you. Perhaps I’ll point that out to everyone and see if they believe you then.”

“I don’t need proof.” Her eyes flashed with hatred. “I only need the accusation. It will be enough to put such scrutiny on you that your career as Vincenzo will be over.”

He laughed, which only infuriated her more.Good.“No one will believe the word of a failed review singer over that of a peer, especially a woman who warmed his bed. Not when half the men in this room will be in the Garden tonight themselves, looking for women of their own for that exact same pleasure. They’ll see you for what you are—nothing but a vengeful harridan.” He clucked his tongue, mocking her earlier attempt to antagonize him. “Is that all the ammunition you have? I have to admit that I expected more from you.”

He began to walk away.

She seethed, “Don’t youdare—”

He wheeled on her. “I will forget this evening, for old time’s sake. So take my generosity and leave. Because if you ever attempt to blackmail me again, I will ruin you.” His voice was ice. “No matter what tricks you’re performing in Ledford’s bed, no one will be able to save you then.”

He strode from the room, not looking back.

Chapter 5

“You’re late.”

Eve hesitated at the angry tone in Domenico’s voice as she slipped into the studio from the rain drizzling over London and threatening to turn into a downpour at any moment.She bit her lip as she removed her hooded coat and shook off the water before hanging it on a hook near the door.

Late?He was lucky she was able to arrive at all.

For the past week, she’d been coming here every afternoon to pose for him, faithfully like clockwork, and all the while giving the excuse to her family that she was doing volunteer work at the Royal Hospital. Thankfully, both her father and her sister Mariah were too busy to question why she was suddenly investing so much time in charity work or ask any probing questions. But they would eventually, and she had no idea what she’d say then. She also had to be very careful with the coachman and tigers who waited dutifully at the hospital for her to return and who would go to Papa the instant they realized what she was truly doing.

And then there was the painting, the one that had brought her here in the first place. She’d arranged for her father’s butler to retrieve it from Mercer House and deliver it to Mariah and Robert, who hung it in their drawing room. So now, every time Eve visited her sister, she came face-to-face with that reminder of how she was lying to her family. And to Domenico.

“I’m paying you to work.” He stood at the worktable with his back to her, sorting through supplies. “Not to saunter in whenever you feel like it.”