Page 26 of A Misguided Devotion

“Pray excuse me”—he gave a mocking bow—“but my paintbrush has an appointment with your friend.”

She blushed up to the roots of her hair. How dare he? She had never been manhandled like that before. It was not as if he were her brother.

Not pausing to dwell on the fact that she had rather enjoyed the sensation, she hurried after the blond-haired man, who was striding down the hill at quite a speed.

To Kitty’s satisfaction, a glance toward the bottom of the cliff path showed her an empty beach. Laura must have overheard their heated exchange and hidden behind the nearby rocks.

Sure enough, as Kitty reached the foot of the hill, her friend emerged from her hiding place. There were two spots of colour in her cheeks. The question was, who had put them there? The persistent artist or someone else?

She glanced up at the cliffs and spotted a man three-quarters of the way up an even steeper path than the one they used. Was that Mr Jenkin? The man whom Laura was adamant did not admire her?

Her friend rounded on the blond-haired man beside her. “You! Have you nothing better to do than plague my footsteps?”

“Let me paint you, Miss Barrington.”

“What makes you think I want to be painted by a common artist?”

He seemed affronted at the insinuation. “Common? Why would you assume I’m a common artist?”

Laura fell silent, and Kitty stepped into the breach. “If you were a portrait painter like Mr Lawrence, you would have a studio and wouldn’t have to harass unwilling ladies into sitting for you.”

“Another assumption. How can you be sure I haven’t got a studio in London?”

Kitty huffed. “How do we even know you can paint? Maybe it’s just an excuse to approach us. After all, you’re very young to be a proper artist.”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. Her words had hit their mark. “Did you know Lawrence was painting portraits at the age of ten?”

“So?”

“Talent has nothing to do with age.”

“If you’re so gifted, prove it.”

The man opened the satchel slung over his shoulder and pulled out a sketchbook. Though it was she who had challenged his abilities, to her irritation, he held out the book to Laura, as if hers was the opinion that mattered.

When she refused to take it, Kitty had her chance. Curious to see inside, she snatched it from his grasp.

She flicked through the contents. Some were mere sketches—others were watercolours. One thing was obvious. Despite what a nuisance he was, the man was talented.

Kitty’s admiration melted away, however, when she flipped the page and was confronted with a sketch of Laura. She turned over, and there was another, and another. The book contained more than a dozen images of Miss Barrington. Some full length—others, just her face.

“How dare you draw my friend without her permission?”

“Of course, I dare. It’s not as if she made her face. It’s as much God’s creation as the sea or these rocks.”

Kitty started to reply, but stopped. Bother the man. She supposed he was right. He hadn’t broken into Laura’s home to take her likeness. Her companion had put herself in his path by coming here.

And judging by the number of sketches, Kitty wondered if Laura was avoiding his attentions as much as she claimed. The tell-tale blush on her cheeks had all the appearance of a secret liaison—a liaison she had interrupted by her presence. A presence that had been disposed of efficiently by sending her back to the house to get her cloak.

Had she been duped? Could she trust a woman who treated her like that? With deception rather than honesty.

Linking arms with her companion, Kitty forced her to turn away from the artist and walk across the beach toward the cliffs.

Laura might make a mockery of her supposed desire to be her friend, but at least Kitty could do her duty to Mr Barrington and keep a better eye on his daughter.

She would not be so gullible again.

Chapter 9