Page 60 of What a Lord Wants
“Exactly. And I voted against him.” When her mouth fell open in surprise, he pointed at a painting high on the wall. “Francesco Guardi. Of the Grand Canal in Venice. One of my favorites.” He paused a beat and said quietly, “How are you, Eve?”
The quiet concern in his voice surprised her. She answered automatically, “I’m fine.”
He arched a brow and murmured, “You are a terrible liar.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Iwillbe fine.” She caught a glimpse of Penelope Daniels from across the room, and her stomach sank. “Eventually.”
He paused, as if deciding whether to challenge that new lie, then turned back toward the paintings and pointed to one. “Tintoretto. From his St Mark series.”
She gasped, clutching at his arm in excitement. Her lingering irritation at him couldn’t match her awe for the painting. “Tintoretto? You own aTintoretto?”
“I also own a Titian and a Caravaggio. There.” He pointed casually across the gallery to the opposite wall. “And there.”
“Sweet heavens,” she breathed, her eyes wide as they fixed on the paintings. “They’re beautiful.”
“So are you.” Another long glance, this time taking her in from head to toe and making her shiver. “That color is perfect on you.”
Please, God, don’t let me blush!She couldn’t have borne the humiliation of it.
She brushed a hand across the skirt of her sage-green dress, the one she’d spent hours deciding on, along with exactly how her maid should fashion her hair, what necklace and earbobs to wear, what slippers…But she had too much pride to admit that. So she asked cheekily, “This old thing?”
“Yes,” he repeated dryly, “that old thing.”
However much it pleased her to know that he’d noticed how she looked, she was still upset at him. “Perhaps I should have worn this to pose in.”
“It would have been an amazing painting.”
With that, all of her lingering anger at him dissipated. In its place came remorse for her role in what had happened.
“I’m sorry about ruining your painting,” she whispered to keep from being overheard by the other patrons.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Even as she heard his words, she didn’t believe him. Still he was a gentleman to say so. “That canvas was a victim of circumstance, that’s all.”
So much more than that! “What are you going to do with it now?”
Disappointment darkened his face. “I’ve sent it to Mercer House for safe keeping.”
Where his servants might see her nude form. Every. Single. Day.Oh God!“Can’t you—can’t you do something else with it?Anythingelse.”
“You’re asking me to destroy a masterpiece?”
“Not destroy it.” Although that idea was growing on her. “Can’t you just…I don’t know—paint over it? Add a dress, a fig leaf or twenty…or a carefully placed bonnet?”
“Abonnet?” He laughed. A grin curled his lips, then faded as he murmured, “Dear God, how much I’ve missed you.”
She looked away, her eyes stinging. Blast him for saying that! He might have been concerned about her, but he was unwittingly making everything worse. All that his sweet flatteries did was remind her that he didn’t want her the same way she wanted him.
He took her arm and led her around the room. “The studio is empty without you.”
Empty. Not lonely. The studio. Not him. “You’ll find another model to replace me,” she said softly, not trusting herself to speak any louder without her voice breaking.
He leaned down to bring his mouth close to her ear. “Trust me, Eve.” His deep drawl purred into her like liquid silk. “No one can replace you.”
She glanced away and sucked in a deep breath to tamp down the emotions tangling in her chest.
They continued on their turn around the room, the conversation now focusing solely on art.Thank goodness.Because Eve didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate his concern and compliments.
As they circled back toward the Carlisles in the outer gallery, they were interrupted on the way several times by patrons who wanted to congratulate him on such a fine exhibition. She smiled at the irony. They might have blackballed Vincenzo, but Dominick Mercer was having the last laugh.
