“You haven’t said I’m forgiven yet.”
“So I haven’t, have I?”
Miss Christensen sighed. “Nick wasn’t my fiancé, exactly, but he did lead me to believe a proposal was forthcoming.” She crossed over to a table and bent to fuss with a floral arrangement.
“And?”
She turned to face him. “He began to court another lady instead.”
Will set aside his book and got to his feet. “Yet he comes to visit you the first day you are back in town.”
“I cannot account for it, and that’s why I was in such a bad temper.” She crossed over, glancing up at him through her lashes. “I truly regret throwing my embroidery hoop at you. It was unforgivable.”
“On that much, we are agreed.”
She gave him a contrite smile. “Is our quarrel past, then?”
Will stepped away a few paces before turning back. “No.”
Her lower lip protruded. “Oh come now, Mr. Winter. I’ve apologized, haven’t I?”
He made a sound of exasperation. “Stop pouting as if you’re Jane.”
The lip retreated.
Will scowled. “I’m inclined to give Mr. Masters permission to court you, should he ask. The man is obviously smitten.”
“Let’s not be hasty.” Miss Christensen’s eyebrows drew together and she hastened to take his hands. “Bend down a trifle.”
Puzzled, he complied. When she deposited a kiss on his cheek, the show of affection sent a delicious shock through him. If he had turned his head just a little, he could have claimed a far sweeter prize…but he held himself back. His gaze met hers and the two of them froze for a few moments before he straightened and snatched his hands away.
“What in blazes do you think you’re doing?”
Her eyes widened. “Apologizing.”
Will gave her a level glance. “If you think flirting with me will change my mind, you are sadly mistaken.”
Miss Christensen gasped. “I’m not flirting with you and how dare you think such a thing!”
“How dare I point out the truth, I think you mean?” He stepped closer. “You came in here displaying your bustle to full advantage, and then you contrive a way to kiss me. You may be able to get away with such nonsense with a callow youth, but I’m a fully grown man.”
She stepped back. “Y-You’ve greatly mistaken my intentions.”
“Have I really?” Will closed the distance between them, slid his arm around her waist, and drew her close. His mouth hovered over hers for a long moment before he bent forward to whisper in her ear. “You’d best lock your door tonight.”
Miss Christensen leaned back until she was staring him full in the face. “You’re joking.”
“Of course I’m joking.” He let her go quickly, whereupon the momentum made her step backward. “I swore to Mr. Southerly that my intentions were honorable and I mean to keep my word.” Will returned to the fireplace and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t try to manipulate me in that fashion again. It’s dangerous.”
∞∞∞
Bethany averted her eyes as a painful blush prickled her skin. “I didn’t realize…that is to say, I didn’t mean to flirt with you. I wouldn’t like to think I’d given you the wrong idea.”
Will’s glance was level. “I’m your guardian so you’ve nothing to worry about. Just don’t try those tricks with anyone else.” He paused. “Actually, it’s ‘nothing about which to worry,’ Mr. Pace informs me. I’m trying to get these things right.”
Jane flew into the drawing room with a newspaper in hand. “I’ve circled the outings that appeal to me, so we must work out a schedule after dinner. I’ve left off all the museums because Mr. Pace is taking me to those.” She stopped and stared at the two of them. “Oh, wait, are you still angry with one another?”
“Not in the least.” Bethany forced herself to laugh. “I’ll bring my calendar to the negotiations. It’s already beginning to fill up.”
As Jane listed the events that had caught her eye, Bethany was only half-attending. Now that Will pointed it out, she had been flirting with him in order to get her way. She must have been out of her senses to provoke him…and yet a delicate shiver shook her body as she remembered his husky whisper and smoky gaze. Perhaps she was more ready to be married than she had imagined.
Jane waved a hand in front of Bethany’s face. “Are you in a daze? Dinner is ready.”
“What?” Bethany glanced up to discover Richmond standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry, my thoughts were miles away.”
Will crossed the room and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
As Bethany accompanied him into the dining room, she stole a glance at his profile. Her guardian had seemed to put the episode behind him, but could she?
He caught her eye and smiled. “You seem to have something on your mind, Miss Christensen?”
Bethany cast about for a topic. “Er…have you given any thought about pursuing your art career while you’re in town?”
Will held her chair for her. “I would like to do exactly that, but I’m not quite sure how to proceed. I wouldn’t like to repeat the mistakes I made before.”
Bethany sat down and draped her napkin across her lap. “What if you prepared some illustrations as a sample of your work and submitted them to publishers of Mr. Leopold’s acquaintance? They might not have been interested in my work, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be interested in yours.”
“What a wonderful idea!” Jane tossed her napkin in the air and let it fall into her lap. “You can use your own name and won’t even have to submit your work as Harold Pumpleshook!”
“I was thinking of changing my name to Witless Willoughby.” He slid Bethany a droll glance. “Do you think that would have any appeal?”
Jane grimaced. “You can’t be serious.”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, dearest. Mr. Winter is merely teasing me.”
Will chuckled. “Besides which, I must have something to illustrate. Since I can only read nursery rhymes, I don’t think my illustrations would be particularly compelling.”
“I’m not so sure. ‘Humpty Dumpty’ has a great deal of drama.” Jane giggled.
“True, but the tale doesn’t have a happy ending.” Will winked.
As a footman served the first course of potato soup, he glanced at Bethany. “What if I were to use scenes from your newest novel?”
A flush of pleasure brought a smile to Bethany’s lips. “Why not? Since the publishers will judging the quality of your drawings, it really doesn’t matter what you are illustrating.”
Jane nodded. “Once you’ve finished writing Wylde Eyes, you can submit Mr. Winter’s drawings with your manuscript. Maybe a publisher will be interested in both.”
Bethany’s smile widened. “Perhaps so. Mr. Winter’s illustrations might even help me sell the book.”
Will smiled. “I have no objection. Nothing ventured and all that.”
“We can begin as soon as you and Jane finish reading Treasure Island,” Bethany said.
Her sister’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! I left the book at Lansings Lodge!”
“What a shame.” Will paused. “In that case, we can begin tonight.”
Bethany picked up her spoon. “I’ll look forward to it.”
∞∞∞
Will sat in a wing chair to listen as Miss Christensen read from Wylde Eyes. Jane curled up on the sofa nearby, paying rapt attention. As the story unfolded, he felt as if he were watching a melodrama on stage. He was not well read, admittedly, but he could recognize a compelling narrative when he heard it. His admiration for Miss Christensen’s talents blossomed anew—although he was still annoyed at her flirtation with him. In addition, a tinge of remorse nibbled at his hair. Although he’d meant to teach her a lesson by whispering something scandalous in her ear, he suspected he had gone too far. During dinner, Will felt her eyes upon him from time to time, as if she feared he might gobble her up. Truth be told, when he’d held h
er in his arms, he had been tempted to do exactly that.
After Miss Christensen finished reading the first chapter of her novel, Jane squeaked and gave her sister a pleading glance. “You can’t stop there! I need to find out what happens between Mr. Wylde and Angela!”
Miss Christensen smiled. “If you feel that way, I’ve done a proper job of laying out the story.”
“It’s wonderful,” Will said. “I felt as if I were living the story along with Angela Ware.”
“But why is Mr. Wylde so broody?” Jane wrinkled her nose. “He’s not very nice to Angela when she first arrives at Quimby House. In fact, he’s rather mean and surly.”
“The owner of the property bequeathed it to the daughter of his old friend instead of to his own son.” Miss Christensen shrugged. “I might be broody as well under similar circumstances.”
Will nodded. “I understand the chap’s attitude, I think. He had frustrated expectations and experienced a severe disappointment on top of his loss. Nevertheless, his encounter with Angela is so magnetic, I have a very strong idea for an illustration.”
Miss Christensen’s expression brightened. “I’m excited to see what you have in mind.”
“Me too!” Jane beamed. “When will it be ready, Mr. Winter?”
Will chuckled. “You’ll have to give me some time. It might take a bit of trial and error until I get it right.”
Miss Christensen stood and crooked a finger at her sister. “Come along. Let’s allow Mr. Winter get started while I tuck you into bed.”
Jane jumped to her feet. “Good night!” She came around behind the sofa where Will was seated and threw her arms around his neck. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be back in a little while.” Miss Christensen reached for Jane’s hand and they left the drawing room together.
Will carried his drawing materials into the library to work. After he shrugged off his jacket, he rolled up his sleeves, and sat down at the round card table to sketch some ideas. Engrossed in what he was doing, he paid little attention to his surroundings until the delicate scent of gardenias tickled his nose.
He glanced up to discover Miss Christensen standing near. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I didn’t want to startle you.” She gestured toward the table. “I’m very taken with your work. It’s almost as if you understand exactly what I had in mind.”
“I’m merely drawing what you most excellently described in your novel. Let’s see if we can come up with a more complete sketch.”
He brought a chair closer so Miss Christensen could sit next to him. For the next hour, he asked questions and she made suggestions. Finally, they agreed on a final design.
“This is in pencil, of course, but the illustration will be in ink,” Will said. “I’ll make a copy of it and add color, if you wish.”
Her lips curved in a smile. “How did you learn to draw, Mr. Winter?”
“That is an interesting story. During the winter months, when the farms lay fallow, I was obliged to seek work in Gisburn. One winter, I heard about a local artist who needed someone to tidy up his studio and the adjoining shop. The old man took me on as a sort of apprentice and was kind enough to encourage me. I worked for him for several years.”
“What ever happened to the fellow?”
Will averted his gaze. “When I was sixteen, Mr. Bannon passed away and his family closed up his shop. That was when I left home for the last time and made my way to London.”
“I’m glad you found someone to teach you.” She glanced over his sketches. “Your work is truly outstanding.”
Miss Christensen’s fair tresses reflected the flickering gaslight. His fingers itched to remove the pins from her hair and watch the angelic mass fall around her shoulders and down her back.
He swallowed. “From almost the first moment we met, I yearned to paint your portrait.”
Her lips parted. “Did you really?”
“The texture of your skin and the shine of your hair fascinates me.” Will tore his gaze away from her mesmerizing eyes and focused on his sketches instead. “As an artist, of course.”
“Our schedule will be quite busy going forward, but I’d love to sit for you.”
His heart gave a strange leap. “Would you?”
She nodded. “Mama and Papa have trunks of clothes stored in the attic here, including several costumes from fancy dress balls. Her favorite one was Queen Titania.”
The vision of Miss Christensen in an ethereal gown stirred Will’s imagination. “That would be perfect.” He came to his senses with a start. “It’s getting late. We’ll finish this tomorrow.” He got to his feet and began to tidy the desk, if only to have something to occupy his mind other than the dainty waist and womanly curves of the lady at his side.
“Yes.” Miss Christensen rose. “Thank you again, Mr. Winter. I look forward to seeing your ideas for Chapter Two.”
As soon as she disappeared into the hallway, Will sat down heavily and ran an exasperated hand over his face. He could no longer deny his growing physical attraction to the woman he called his ward. Although Will had resented Mr. Southerly’s insinuations at the time, the vicar had been right to cast aspersions on their living arrangements. No man worth his salt could reside long under the same roof as Bethany Christensen and not ache to hold her in his arms.
All was not lost, however. An engagement between her and Nicholas Masters would deliver Will from temptation forever. Nevertheless, he would have to devise ways to distance himself from Miss Christensen in the meantime—but how? Not only was he illustrating her novel, but he’d also asked her to sit for him while he painted her portrait.
Will groaned. “I’m a fool…a fool playing with fire.”
He finished straightening up his work, donned his jacket, and left the library. Across the hall, Richmond was dousing the lights in the drawing room.
Will lifted his hand to catch the butler’s attention. “I’m going for a walk, Richmond, so please leave the servants’ entrance unlocked. I’ll make sure it’s secured when I return.”
The man nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
Will left the house and stepped out into the cool of the night. Perhaps after an hour walking the streets of London, the fire in his veins would subside. If not, he would walk all night.
∞∞∞
Bethany dismissed Minerva for the evening and finished her nighttime preparations alone—the better to hold on to the delicious sensations she’d felt when she had been working with Will just now. All in all, it had been a strange and unusual evening, beginning with that unforgettable moment in the drawing room when he’d held her in his arms.
She closed her eyes and traced the contours of her lips with her fingertips, wondering what it would be like if Will had actually kissed her. Would fire light her core as it did at the very thought of him? In the next moment, she came out of her reverie, ran over to lock her door, and backed away as if a rapacious monster stood on the other side.
Bethany paced, wondering if she had lost her senses to be entertaining sensuous ideas about Willoughby Winter. She counted off on her fingers all the reasons she had to resent him.
“He wishes to claim his inheritance by marrying me off quickly, he tricked me into teaching him to waltz, and he considers me bossy.” She made a sound of indignation. “And, he thinks I ought to renew my courtship with Nick, just to satisfy the vicar!”
Furthermore, how was she to know for certain what conversation had really taken place between him and Mr. Southerly? Although she didn’t think Will would fabricate the encounter completely, he was certainly capable of characterizing it in a way that would accrue to his benefit. Yes, she had every reason to dislike her guardian and be suspicious of his motives…and yet the exquisite sensations she’d felt when he drew her close had made her knees go weak. Even now, her body shivered with the memory. It was almost like the moment when Angela realized she was in love with Mr. Wylde.
Bethany stopped pacing and dropped her f
ace in her hands. This was a ghastly development, by anyone’s reckoning! If she were truly falling in love with her guardian, he must never suspect her feelings for him. Yet, how could she disguise the blush of her cheeks and the trembling of her hands when he was near?
“I cared for Nick a little at one time not too long ago, didn’t I?” She gave a decisive nod. “I shall simply make every effort to fall in love with him instead.”
Chapter Twelve
Magenta
Early Friday morning, Will and Miss Christensen rode from the townhouse mews over to Hyde Park.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “You seem in fine spirits this morning, Mr. Winter.”
He grinned. “I had many opportunities to paint and sketch Rotten Row when I lived in London before, but I never dreamed I would have the chance to participate someday.”
“I hope it meets your expectations.”
“I suppose that all depends on whether or not Mr. Masters is inclined to pursue you.”
Miss Christensen turned her head away, but Will took no offense. Their relationship had alternated between cordial and distant since that night in the drawing room, but he suspected things would improve immeasurably once Masters proposed.
When they reached the beginning of the equestrienne track, the fellow was waiting, clad in dashing riding clothes. He grinned and angled his horse alongside them.
“Good morning! My friends should be along any moment.” He glanced at Miss Christensen and doffed his hat. “How are you settling in so far?”
As Miss Christensen and her former fiancé fell into meaningless chitchat about train travel and the fine weather, Will glanced at his surroundings. Off to one side of Rotten Row, elegantly clad passengers traveled in pristine carriages on a thoroughfare through Hyde Park. On the other side of the track, equally fashionable pedestrians strolled along the pavement with walking sticks or parasols. He also noticed uniformed nannies negotiating prams and soberly clad nurses pushing the occasional invalid chair. The pampered cream of society rode beautifully kept horses on the broad sandy track itself, displaying their finery for all to admire.
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