Chapter Nine
Kitty stood at the front window. Surely Nathaniel would be there soon to pick her up. Memories of nearly being trampled by a horse made her shudder. When she’d come home afterward, Lydia’s scowl at Kitty’s appearance had been more pronounced than usual. After all, being tossed to the ground and nearly crushed did mess up one’s hair and clothing.
Clothing…
Nathaniel’s hand brushing off her shoulders, back, and her—
Heat slithered down to her core and swirled around. That sensation was coming more and more often. Ever since she’d met Nathaniel.
Robert shouting from the back of the house startled her.
Please, Nathaniel, hurry up and get here. Robert already made us cry once today.
The clip-clop of horses’ hooves settled her nervous stomach. Now she could leave. She already wore her pelisse in anticipation of going but grabbed her reticule and bag of art supplies.
Not wasting any time, or waiting around for Robert to notice she was still home, Kitty slipped outside, tugging Great-Aunt Anne in her wake, and hurried to the carriage. Manners held that she should have waited in the house for Nathaniel or his coachman to fetch her.
But manners had never met Robert.
The coachman was speaking to Nathaniel, who had his back to her. She smiled as he turned and—
Kitty stopped short. Not Nathaniel.
Mr. Bexley, the son, bowed to her. “There’s the lovely and talented Miss Sullyard. You were in such a rush to get out here. Must have been excited to spend time with me, hmm?”
Kitty swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. “Of-of course, Mr. Bexley.” Hopefully he wouldn’t take her reaction as anything negative toward him. She introduced him to her great-aunt, and then the coachman helped the older woman into the conveyance.
Mr. Bexley motioned the coachman to step aside as he himself helped Kitty into the carriage. His hand brushed her bottom lightly. Had that been on purpose? What was it about the Bexley cousins and Kitty’s posterior?
She sat down, willing her racing heart to slow. Calm down.
Mr. Bexley sat opposite her and Great-Aunt Anne on the other bench, where Nathaniel had been the day previous. “Come now, Miss Sullyard. I’m guessing you were expecting my cousin again. Was your sunny expression really for him?”
She knew her great-aunt would already be buried in her current book of choice, so Kitty didn’t even bother to look in her direction. She bit her lip hard, hoping a suitable answer would surface. “My good man, I admire both the Mr. Bexleys.”
He laughed, his white teeth gleaming from an errant ray of sun through the window. “How diplomatic you are. And I admire your quickness of wit.” He stared at her breasts, but only for an instant. “Among… other things.”
Kitty’s mouth went dry. Wherever his gaze landed, heat seared her skin. Hoping to divert his attention from staring at her, Kitty pointed toward the window. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
He tilted his head, peering intently at her face. “Lovely. So lovely.”
Nervousness threatened to shatter the tiny moment of calm she’d experienced only moments ago. Reaching up to grab the edge of her pelisse, she tugged it over her breasts.
He caught her eye. “Going to deprive a man of your incredible charms? Such a pity. And here I’d hoped we were becoming friends.”
Kitty bit her upper lip as she tried to come up with something to placate him. Robert, already angered, would explode if she were to somehow jeopardize this chance of making money from the magazine. “But, Mr. Bexley, we are friends.” With a laugh she had to force, she released her hold on the fabric, letting it fall to the side, once again exposing the white round tops of her breasts.
Was it her imagination or had a cool breeze entered the carriage? A shiver ran across her bare skin, making gooseflesh rise.
He unabashedly raked his eyes over her again. He must have noticed the gooseflesh, because one side of his very sensual lips rose, causing the blasted dimple to form. The kind of dimple his cousin had. The kind of dimple that could get Kitty into all sorts of trouble.
Trouble she didn’t need. Yet trouble she might have to endure if she wanted to keep her position with the magazine.
The carriage bumped along the road, slowing to allow a man and his horse and cart to cross their path. The man gave a cordial wave, appearing not to care how slow he was or if he made the driver of the carriage wait. It reminded Kitty of her new painting assignment. Since it was of a stream where men would like to fish, the setting would be quieter than the noisy atmosphere of the race.
She stifled a sudden yawn, remembering how late she’d stayed up the night before working on the panorama of the race. She’d gotten the rest of it sketched in, including spectators, trees, and enclosures. A sigh escaped her, though, and she tamped down an impulse to grumble because she hadn’t even begun to use actual paint on it yet. She’d need night upon night to finish it. Being particular, Kitty wouldn’t declare a painting complete until the tiniest detail was just right.
That kind of work took a very long while, as well as a toll on the artist. At times, she was tempted to do mediocre work just to finish it. But that wasn’t her. She’d be guilt stricken if she didn’t do her best.
Not to mention Robert would grow purple in the face if he ever imagined she’d not given it her all. Sometimes she wished he could see that while it was admirable to aim for perfection in one’s work, if his main concern was making more money, and making it more quickly, then he asked for the impossible.
Kitty tried to keep her focus on studying something, anything, out the window, hoping Mr. Bexley would do the same. But a quick glance showed his attention still locked on her. She swallowed hard. Why did she suddenly feel that he was trying to picture her without clothing?
He gave her a sweet grin and a wink then did as she’d hoped and watched the scenery pass by the carriage window.
You are such a dolt, Kitty. He really seems quite charming, even though he’s rakish.
But what of other men? Not for the first time, Kitty wished her cousin Mary hadn’t left them. Especially not before telling Kitty and her sisters about life, love, and yes… the attitudes and appetites of men. With a side glance at Great-aunt Anne, who was already dozing in a shaft of sunlight, Kitty remembered once trying to ask her about men. Her great-aunt had been married before, but had gone pink in the face, stammering a few unintelligible words and refusing to hear such talk again.
How was Kitty to gather the knowledge she needed? She spent so much of her time at home painting. And when she was someplace where she’d encounter a man, her first impulse was to flirt. In general, most men she came across were friendly. Maybe too friendly?
Then there was Robert. Kitty hoped against hope that if she was fortunate enough to someday marry, he wouldn’t be like her cousin, who was disagreeable at best and a snarling viper on his bad days.
As far as Kitty could tell, Nathaniel wasn’t like Robert. And neither was Mr. Bexley. Maybe she was being too judgmental, too quick to assume the cousins were something they were not.
Determined to give them the benefit of the doubt, she picked up her reticule and bag as the carriage slowed to a halt.
The coachman opened the door and helped her down. She stepped aside. Where was her aunt? Mr. Bexley descended with a puzzled expression on his face. She waited for Great-Aunt Anne to follow, but she didn’t.
When Kitty stepped close to the carriage’s open door, she peeked in. “Aren’t you coming?”
Her great-aunt waved her away with her gloved hand. Settling back against the squabs of the seat, she turned the page in her book.
Short of dragging the woman out of the carriage, there wasn’t much Kitty could do. With a shrug, she glanced around at the towering oak trees, swaying green grass and from just over a small ridge a few yards away, she heard the gentle shushing of water washing over stones.
She’d not asked exactly where they’d been head
ed, as she’d been absorbed in watching Mr. Bexley watch her. Remembering his hungry gaze over her chest, she reached up and once again tugged her pelisse tighter.
She jumped when he touched the small of her back.
“Come now, Miss Sullyard. Covering up again so soon?”
Deciding not to directly address his question, she pointed in the direction of the water. “It’s lovely here, but I must admit that I don’t have a clue where we are.”
Instead of answering, Mr. Bexley took her by the hand and led her toward the water’s edge.
Her legs stiffened, and her feet refused to budge from their spot. How could she possibly be alone, totally alone with him? At least with Nathaniel there’d been other people nearby and her great-aunt had been just a few seats away. Kitty checked over her shoulder. The carriage door was still open. But bless her heart, her great-aunt was asleep. Again.
What choice did Kitty have? Certainly she could request that Mr. Bexley take her back home, but that might anger him. And an angry employer’s son probably wouldn’t gain her any more work. Which would in turn upset Robert.
Kitty allowed Mr. Bexley to lead her closer to the water. Enchantment pushed aside her anxiety as they neared. Tiny birds, perhaps some sort of swallow, darted over the surface, dipping their beaks down into the water. Were they searching for insects to eat? A light breeze tugged at wisps of hair from just beneath Kitty’s bonnet.
“Here. This might make it a little more comfortable for you.”
Kitty scrunched her eyebrows together. What was he—
She glanced down. A forest green blanket was spread out over the grass. When had he done that? Wasn’t it a public area? She glanced around at the lack of other people. Wait. This didn’t have the appearance of a place to do work for his father’s company. It looked more like a place to—
“Won’t you sit down?” Mr. Bexley smiled, causing those blasted dimples to appear.
Her knees, suddenly wobbly, threatened to buckle if she didn’t comply. “O-of course.”
Once she was seated and had arranged her skirts over her feet, he sat down, as well. Very close.
“Now…” He shook his head. “I think we can dispense with the Mr. Bexley.”
Oh dear. Hadn’t she just had a similar conversation with his cousin?
“That being said,” he took her hand in his. “My name is Stratford.” He tilted his head and waited.
Very well. It seemed she wouldn’t escape giving her name. “I’m Kitty.”
He chuckled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Of course you are.”
What did that mean? Kitty slid her hand from his. Was he having sport with her? Mocking her name? Would he have done the same had she said it was Katherine? “Perhaps I should begin sketching the scene.”
He frowned, appearing confused.
“For… your father’s magazine.”
He rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes. Work. If you must.”
How else was she to get paid?
Stratford looked at her, pausing a few beats longer at her breasts and her—
Heat suffused her whole body. The expression on Stratford’s face indicated there might just be another way, a much different way for Kitty to earn some money.
But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. When men had given her that expression in the past, she’d always been able to subtly escape the situation. Unless she chose to go sit with her great-aunt in the carriage, which wouldn’t allow her to sketch the scene very well, she had to stay where she was.
Hastily, she grabbed her bag and dumped the contents of paper, pencils, and paints on the blanket, making sure to put them between her and Stratford. Maybe he’d get the hint.
With lowered eyebrows, he glanced down. “I suppose the right thing to say would be how much I admire someone who is hardworking…”
Kitty waited for him to go ahead and affirm the sentiment, but he didn’t.
With a loud sigh, Stratford reached down and grabbed a pencil. “Guess I’ll have to be content with watching a talented artist at work.”
How had she irritated the man so quickly? Better make light of things. “Oh, not so talented.”
“On the contrary. I’ve seen your work, remember? Quite impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you…” He moved his hand in a circle.
“Uh… very much?”
“How about saying my name?”
“Um. Thank you… Stratford.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled as if hearing her speak his name was a lovely fragrance he enjoyed.
Perhaps it was, if the way he’d been staring at her was any indication.
Kitty, get to work.
She reached down and picked up her paper and a pencil. Realizing he’d never answered her earlier question, she asked again, “Where exactly are we?”
“The Bexley estate.”
His family’s home?
Shock coursed through her. It was so personal. So intimate. Why had he brought her there?
A loud splash startled her. Kitty giggled when a newt swam across the water. She quickly sketched what was visible of its head and dark spotted back as it made its way to the bank.
Stratford leaned closer. “Fascinating.”
Kitty gave him a quick glance, relaxing when she saw him studying her drawing instead of her. “Those little creatures really are.”
“I meant the way you captured it. I don’t think I could draw anything that would be recognizable.”
“I imagine you could. With practice. Keep in mind I’ve been doing this my whole life.”
“Would you show me?”
“Pardon?”
“How to draw.”
Was he serious? “Well…” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“It would mean a great deal to me, Kitty.”
When he said her name, warmth from his voice washed away her anxiety. His expression was so earnest, so genuine. Had she misread his earlier comments? The way he’d looked at her? If only she’d had someone to tell her how to understand men. “Of course.”
Stratford grinned and winked. This time, Kitty didn’t tense. No, it felt more like one friend asking a favor of another. And that was something she could do. First she drew an outline of the bank and sketched in some trees. She held out the pencil. “Would you like to try?”
He shook his head. “Perhaps for our first lesson, I’ll simply watch.”
First lesson?
With a slight frown, she went back to her sketch. Ripples of water and smooth stones appeared on the page below the tip of her pencil. Once she began a sketch, her pencil almost became a part of her, like another finger, outlining and shading, bringing a scene to life. She added in the family’s signature S between two closely situated stones sitting low on the bank above the water’s edge.
Though she was engrossed in her efforts, heat from Stratford’s leg so near hers worked its way through the fabric of her skirt to her leg. What would it be like to be with a man… to give him her body as well as her heart?
Similar memories had assailed her with Nathaniel when he’d rescued her from that runaway horse. He’d held her close, his arms wrapped around her, his body pressed—
“Where were you off to just now?”
Kitty jumped. “Just… daydreaming.”
“Dare I hope it was about me?”
Close… it was your cousin. She forced a pleasant expression. “Don’t you know a woman never reveals her secrets?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Will wonders never cease… I’ve found a woman who’s beautiful, talented, and amusing.”
He’s found a woman? What did he mean by that? Rakes didn’t want women for any good purpose. But he’d made it sound like… No, Kitty, there you go being a dolt again. He’s only being polite.
Why did men and their words have to be so confusing?
Color of Deception Page 10