Page 42 of What a Lord Wants

“Because Ellsworth is a nice man. He must be here now simply out of concern.” Or because he wanted to admonish her some more for ruining his painting. Given everything that happened last night, either was a toss-up.

“Apparently so.” She heard suspicion when Mariah repeated, “Whywould he do that, Eve? You two don’t even know each other.”

Oh, so very well! “We shared an interesting conversation in front of a painting in Lord Hawthorne’s gallery.” Her fingers trembled as she drew back the gauzy curtain to peer down at the street. Her heart skipped at the sight of the grand Ellsworth town coach, with its gold monogram on the door, four black matching horses, and livered tigers. Completely unlike anything Vincenzo would ever have traveled in. Or at least she’d thought so. Now, she wasn’t certain that she knew the man at all. “The marquess is an art connoisseur.”

“You’re lying,” Mariah accused. “Like a rug.”

“It isn’t what you—”

“Like alyingrug.”

Eve rolled her eyes. Her sister was becoming more and more like the Carlisle brothers with each passing day.

Already feeling guilty over hiding the truth about the studio, she inhaled a deep breath and faced her. But she couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze from the floor. “We do know each other, actually.”

“I see.” She set the magazine down.

“Through the work I’ve been doing.” Not technically a lie. Shehadbeen working with Dom, just not the kind of charity work she’d led her family to believe.

“So all that time you’ve been spending in Chelsea—it’s been because of Ellsworth?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the rug.

“I didn’t realize that the marquess was a hospital patron.”

“He’s not.” My! That was a lovely pattern on the carpet. How had she never noticed that before? “There was a mix-up with the painting that the marquess gave to you and Robert for your wedding.” Vagaries we not technically lies. “When I went to collect it. And then…”

“And then?”

Factual omissions weren’t lies either so much as, well, omissions. “We met. And started talking. About art.”

“But you don’t know anything about art.” Confusion colored her sister’s voice. “You failed all your art lessons at Miss Pettigrew’s.”

No, Miss Pettigrew’s School had failedher. While it might have educated her on how to be a fine lady, it had taught her nothing truly important about the world. Like what to do with a man like Dom. “I didn’t know anything, until he taught me.”

From across the room, she felt Mariah freeze. Her sister’s silence was worse than her suspicions.

Eve slowly raised her gaze from the carpet.

“He’s…” Mariah’s brow furrowed as understanding came over her. “He’s the teacher, isn’t he? The one who hasn’t noticed you as a woman.”

Her eyes dropped back to the carpet.

“The one who said you were beautiful.”

Heavens, what quality weaving! Papa had certainly gotten his money’s worth in this Aubusson.

“Evie?”

With a heavy sigh and sagging shoulders, she looked up at Mariah and admitted, “Yes. But he didn’t mean it at all like you think.”

“Oh? And how exactly does a bachelor peernotmean it to an unmarried miss?”

“Art.”

Mariah blinked. “Art?”

She blew out an exasperated sigh. “He meant that I would make a wonderful model for an artist to paint. That my eyes and face were expressive. That my hair is some special shade called Titian red.” She dismissingly waved her hand in the air in the general direction of her head, but the aggravation behind it was real. Because thatwasthe only way Dom had noticed her. Even when he’d kissed her, he’d been kissing his model. “Beautiful for art’s sake. That’s all.”