“The man is a rake, Cress, and I know…I know you have been a bit intrigued by him.”
“I have not,” she gasped. “The man simply has marvelous skills and is the perfect person to capture my likeness.”
“I have seen you discreetly watching him at a few balls. Not even the presence of the marquess could stop your fascinated stare. It worried me a bit, I admit.”
Oh!Had she been that obvious? “I shall be careful.”
“Do not forget he is often referred to as a ‘bad Fairbanks.’ The man is a damn rake, he eats innocents like you for breakfast, and you plan to be alone with him…naked. Whenever I think about it, I feel faint. Perhaps if he agrees to it, I should be present.”
“You will not!”
“You blush at the idea of me, your sister seeing you naked, but not this libertine,” Leigh spluttered.
Cressida laughed and assured her sister she would be careful, descended the carriage and hastened inside her home. Perhaps after her anger had cooled, she might not even find the courage to sit and allow him to paint her after all. She went up to her chamber and surprised her sleeping maid, who jerked up from where she reposed on the chaise longue by the fire.
“Lady Cressida,” Anna said with a frown at the clock. “Are you well, my lady?”
“Just a pinch of headache. I left a note with a footman for mama, who was in the card rooms with papa, and my sister took me home.”
Anna hurriedly helped her undress and removed the pins from her hair. Cressida refused the mobcap over her hair, opting to sleep with it feathered across her pillows. On a wicked instinct, after Anna left, Cressida removed her nightgown and slipped between the sheets naked. She gasped at the odd sensations that coursed through her body at the rasp of the sheets on her breasts.
Her heart started to pound as her thoughts lazily drifted to Mr. Nicholas Fairbanks. Who else had noted her regard for that reprobate? It wasn’t because of how handsome he was she had noticed him. He was not more handsome than Lord Linfield or less; the marquess was merely blond with bright green eyes, and Mr. Fairbanks had dark, brooding looks with black hair and lush, cobalt blue eyes. He was not as tall and lanky as the marquess; however, Mr. Fairbanks fairly radiated a presence and charming confidence she did not understand. The man was not even titled or wealthy to the standards of most gentlemen. He worked, selling his skills for a ridiculously overpriced amount of a rumored five hundred pounds per painting, snagging the attention and fascination of theton.
What had captured Cressida’s attention was that he had danced with Miss Sarah Bloomfield, the only man to do so all season. Miss Bloomfield was the eldest daughter of Viscount Bloomfield, who was rumored to be a plain wallflower because she wore spectacles and loved to write her stories, and she was also one of Cressida’s dearest friends. It was a pity she had returned to the countryside only yesterday.
Cressida had even asked the marquess to stand up with her friend at a ball when it was quite evident she was the only lady to have not danced the entire evening. He had mockingly shuddered and refused in fear it might damage his image with the young bucks and swains. Cressida had refused to dance the next set with him and made her way to sit and chat with her friend when Mr. Fairbanks had approached her. The man had danced with Sarah twice and even carried a glass of champagne to her afterward.
Cressida had been delighted with the stranger that night. The only thing was afterward, she had been unable to dismiss him from her awareness. Something low in her belly would quicken whenever she saw him at a ball, and her heart would race. She could never understand it; however, that extraordinary reaction had compelled her to discreetly watch him a few times.
And her sister had noticed.
Cressida pushed her face into the pillow, thinking about his wicked suggestion.Kisses. As if she would ever allow herself to be that reckless…that…that…wanton! Turning over with a huff, she pressed her fingers to her mouth, wondering what it would be like to be kissed by Nicholas Fairbanks?
Goodness gracious, Lord, save me from these wicked musings.
CHAPTER4
“Do you know Lady Cressida Winters?” Nicholas asked Hermina, his sister-in-law, and the new Countess of Celdon.
Tucking a wisp of dark brown hair behind her ear, she took her attention from the book opened on her lap and pinned him with her direct stare. “Lady Cressida? The daughter of Lord Dunmore?”
“Yes.”
“Is she the reason you have been so distracted since you entered the library?”
“Yes.”
“I gather you are finished with etiquette lessons today,” she said with a smile, closing the book she had been reading from. The one she had already forced him to read—aSystem of Etiquetteby John Trusler, and she had even had him read the man’s book onPrinciples of Politeness. Nicholas did not dismiss the goal his brother, as the head of the family, and their grandaunt, the Dowager Countess of Celdon, had for their family. They might be new totonlife and needed town bronze, but they would fit in and become the best of them.
“Not only today but for the rest of the season. I am fit to graduate,” he said drily. “We’ve been having these lessons going on three months. I think anyone could call my conduct gentlemanly.”
Should we negotiate for kisses?
Recalling last night, he carefully kept his expression inscrutable. Hermina could be a little ferret when it came to sniffing out truths.
“Two months and three weeks,” she pointed out with an arched smile. “And you, my good man, have missed several etiquette lessons. I have no confidence that you and Richard could call yourselves gentlemen. Your brother James is only mildly better.”
“You lump me with that reprobate,” he mockingly cried, thinking it had almost been a week since he last saw his brother, who had since moved into his own lodgings.