My Dearest Amelia,
Forgive me for not having written in several weeks, but I had terrible sickness on the ship home. I miss you so, and I especially miss all the fun and frolic we shared whilst I visited you on holiday in the Americas.
I was no sooner back in our London townhome when Auntie Beatrice insisted that I begin art lessons. Amelia, I can’t draw a straight line to save my own soul. Art lessons? Truly? I dreaded the very thought. An hour several times per week listening to some old codger preach the virtues of light and dark hardly excited me, and I possess the artistic talent of a tomato. But Auntie would not be swayed. So yesterday, I began.
My instructor, rather than the foul old lech I imagined, is a young Frenchman. I nearly swooned when I saw him, Amelia, so beautiful is he. Dark hair and simmering brown eyes…and the way he looked at me… My quim started pulsing just from his gaze upon me.
“You must be Lady Prudence,” he said with a smile.
I let out a sigh. “I am.”
“It is a pleasure.” He took my hand and kissed it. “I am Christophe Bertrand.”
Oh, Amelia, he is a delicacy. How my stomach fluttered when he brushed his lips over my hand. I thought perhaps I could learn something after all. He set up two easels and placed canvases upon them. We spent the next hour learning and mixing color, until he finally turned to me.
“Forgive me, my lady, but I find I can no longer ignore your beauty.”
My cheeks heated to blazing, Amelia. I am quite sure they were redder than the crimson paint on the palette.
“Monsieur Bertrand… Our lesson…”
He took my hand and kissed it again, this time letting his lips linger just a touch longer. A surge charged straight to my cunny, and a slight moan escaped my lips.
“My lady, beauty such as yours is a rare gift. Please, if you would allow me to paint you—”
“Paint me?” I stood, aghast.
He wanted to paint me? I’d been so hoping he might want to kiss me. Truly kiss me, the way you did, Amelia, and the way Broderick and Miles did when the four of us were together. What wonderful times we had!
“Yes, my lady. Your azure eyes, your raven hair, your lips the color of the rarest ruby—you are stunning. If you would allow it, I will find some way to compensate you for your time. I’m a man of modest means, but I could make your lessons gratis.”
“My aunt is paying for the lessons,” said I.
“Perhaps if I spoke with her—”
“No!” I screamed.
Can you imagine? Prudish Auntie Beatrice allowing me to pose for this young man? It would never happen. And suddenly, Amelia, I wanted him to paint me. I wanted it more than my next breath of fresh air. More even than a kiss from him.
“Monsieur Bertrand”—I smiled coquettishly, or so I hoped—“I would be happy to pose for you. Gratis.”
“Outstanding!” His grin lit up his face. “When may we begin?”
“How about now?”
“Well, I do have some time presently,” he said. “Perhaps we could go out of doors. The afternoon sunlight would highlight your lovely fair complexion.”
“No.” I touched his arm lightly. Such sparks I felt! “You will paint me here, in the parlor.” I walked to the door and turned the key in the lock. “And you will paint me nude.”
Chapter 1
Brighton Estate, Wiltshire, England
July, 1853
“I’m going to sleep with Mr. Landon.”
Lady Sophie MacIntyre abruptly straightened her back and dropped her crocheting to the floor with a soft thud. “Excuse me?”
“There’s not a thing wrong with your hearing, Sophie dear.” Lady Alexandra MacIntyre smiled. “I said I’m going to sleep with Mr. Landon.”
Sophie picked up her crocheting and let out a sigh. “I’m not in the slightest mood for one of your jokes, Ally.”
“Who is joking?”
“For goodness’ sake. You don’t expect me to believe—”
Alexandra stood, held up a hand to stop her sister’s words, and placed her own knitting in the basket next to her. She wasn’t joking. She’d been waiting months now for Mr. Nathan Landon to propose marriage to her, and she was damned tired of his foolish trifling. “I certainly do expect you to believe it. I’ve allowed him
so many liberties I’m beginning to feel like I’ve already lost my virginity. Yet nothing. No promises from him, not even a bloody ‘I love you.’”
“Have you considered,” Sophie said, “that perhaps it’s because you’ve allowed him so many liberties that he’s not taking you more seriously?”
“Don’t be silly. I haven’t allowed him liberties to get him to propose marriage. I’ve allowed him the liberties because I wanted to.”
“Ally…”
“Have you never been curious, sister dear?”
Sophie’s cheeks reddened. “I’m as curious as anyone, but I know my place.”
“You and Van Arden never…?”
“Of course not!” Sophie said hotly. “Not even a kiss.”
“You’re missing out on life’s pleasures, then.”
“I’ve no interest in—”
“Oh, Sophie, please spare me the self-righteous drivel. You just admitted to curiosity. We’re all interested. Lily and Rose both slept with their husbands before marriage. And while it might have been behavior to expect from Lily, it was not from Rose. Yet she did it.”
“Still, Ally, if it’s marriage you’re after, perhaps you should not have let him have so many liberties.”
“And you think he would have proposed by now if I hadn’t allowed the kissing?”
“I think it’s a distinct possibility.”
Ally rolled her eyes. No man in the world would marry a woman just to get into her drawers. There were places one could go to get that. And with Mr. Landon’s money, he could have as much as he wanted. “I disagree, dear, but it’s quite a moot point. I’ve allowed the liberties, and I can’t take them back. Nor do I want to. I enjoyed it.”
“And now you think to give him the ultimate liberty?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever for?”
Ally smiled deviously. “So you can catch us, of course.”
* * *
Lord Evan Xavier entered his father’s mansion on the Brighton Estate, handing his riding gloves to the butler.
“I trust your ride was pleasant, my lord?”
“Yes, thank you, Graves. Are my stepsisters at home?”
“Ladies Sophie and Alexandra are in the front parlor.”
“Thank you.” Evan turned and headed up the long staircase to the second level, his goal to get as far away from the front parlor as possible. He didn’t want to deal with his stepsisters at the moment, especially Alexandra, who had lately turned into the very bane of his existence.
Their newly wedded parents had left for the continent nearly a month ago, and while they were abroad, the girls were Evan’s responsibility. His father, David, the Earl of Brighton, and his new stepmother, Iris, the girls’ mother, were desperately in love with each other, and Evan didn’t expect them home anytime soon. He normally enjoyed having the estate to himself when his father was away, but now… Well, he was no longer alone.
He found sanctuary in his own suite of rooms on the third level. The girls would never dream of setting foot there. He dismissed Redmond, his valet, and stripped off his riding clothes himself. After cleaning up, he lay on his bed and closed his eyes. Only a bloody hour until dinnertime…
* * *
“Catch you?” Sophie said, her green eyes wide. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Of course not. You catch us, and you tell our new stepfather, the esteemed Earl of Brighton, and he will force Mr. Landon to do right by me.” Ally smiled. The plan was brilliant. No one would think for a moment that her sweet and prudish older sister had made up the tale. And their new stepfather had already proven himself to be vastly overprotective.
“Absolutely not.” Sophie vehemently shook her head. “I’ll not take part in this ridiculous scheme.”
“But you must, Sophie. Everyone will know you’re telling the truth.”
“This is a truth I want no part of. Please reconsider, Ally. You’ll be ruined.”
“Do you think I care about being ruined? I want to be married, and Mr. Landon is my choice.”
“Do you love him?”