Reeves and Goddard was well known throughout London as the top gallery for private showings. The only art display that was the acknowledged superior was the Royal Academy of Arts, which was where the very first thirty-lamp chandelier had been used to display artwork, having been donated by the Prince Regent in 1817.
“Please wait until I meet with Mr. Goddard before you bring the artwork in.” Prudence turned from the footman who had accompanied her and made her way up the stairs. Mr. Goddard opened the door as she approached, his face beaming with welcome.
“Good morning, my lady. I am pleased to see you have brought us some more of your work.”
Prudence stepped past him to see another man standing behind Mr. Goddard.
The man’s demeanor could only be called disgruntled. He was not smiling and stood resting his shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He regarded her with a slow perusal from the tips of her shoes to the top of her hat.
And apparently found her wanting.
She hated that his scrutiny caused her to blush, but his look was so very disconcerting it rattled her. She fought the desire to smooth her hair or adjust her skirt.
“Lady Prudence, may I present to you Mr. Ashton Reeves, my partner.” Mr. Goddard turned toward the man still leaning against the wall.
For heaven’s sake, did he not have the strength to stand? Or was he merely rude?
“Ash, this is our newly acquired artist, Lady Prudence Sterling.”
He finally pushed away from the wall and bowed. Much lower than was necessary, a snide look on his face. “My lady. A pleasure, I am sure.”
It amazed her that someone could say one thing and, given their tone of voice, convey the exact opposite. For some reason, this man did not like her, did not want her here, and had no problem letting her know that.
She extended her hand, causing his eyebrows to rise. Did he think she expected him to kiss her hand, as if they were in a ballroom? When he slowly reached for her hand, she shook it, making sure her handshake was firm and businesslike.
Mr. Goddard watched the play between the two of them with a frown. Then he rubbed his hands together and turned to her. “Have your brought us more paintings?”
Attempting to pull herself together after the odd exchange between her and Mr. Reeves, she smiled in Mr. Goddard’s direction. “Yes, I have. My footman is awaiting my instructions to bring them in.”
“Well, then, Lady Prudence. Let us not keep your servant waiting.” Mr. Reeves opened the door and waved her through it. She had to fight the urge to stomp on his foot as she passed by.
They all stepped out onto the landing of the building stairs with Mr. Goddard glowering at his partner and speaking to him sharply, but so low that Prudence couldn’t hear what he said.
Well, whatever Mr. Reeves’ problem was, she was determined to not let him affect her excitement. Most likely, he resented his partner having offered a show for her. That was his problem, not hers. She was thrilled with this opportunity and would not allow Mr. Reeves’ antagonism to cast a shadow on her joy.
If he thought she was some simpering, giddy young miss who would cower under his displeasure, he was in for a surprise.
* * *
Ash couldn’t believe how rude he’d been to their new artist. It was so very unlike him. But one look at her and everything he’d always hated about the ton and its members rose to the surface, almost choking him. Lady Prudence was not “very pretty” as Ted had claimed; she was beautiful. Typical English peaches-and-cream complexion, light brown hair with golden highlights, perfect, aristocratic features, including wide brown eyes, and lips meant for kissing.
True, she was not in the first bloom of youth, but that made her appeal all the more enticing. When she took his hand and gave it a businesslike shake, he was tempted to pull her against him to feel her warm body and generous curves.
From the time he set eyes on her, he knew the only way to keep from making a fool of himself was to treat her with disdain so she would grow to dislike him. That would certainly remind him that Lady Prudence was a client, as well as a member of the society to which he would never belong.
The society that spawned the man—his father—who had treated his mother so dreadfully. He’d learned over the years that most, if not all, members of the ton behaved the same. Seduce a young woman of a lower class, get her with child, then toss her aside.
Her servant, Ash, and Ted all carried in the artwork Lady Prudence had brought with her. Once all the new pieces of art were stacked against the wall, Ted invited Lady Prudence to join them for tea. While they discussed the artwork and settled it in the storage room, Ted and their new client spoke freely and appeared to have already established a sort of friendship. That was fine for Ted; he had no connection to London Society to feel the sting that Ash had felt most of his life.
The three of them settled in the small drawing room at the back of the gallery that he and Ted had decorated with pale green and cream-colored wallpaper, along with an Aubusson carpet and pieces of furniture that spoke of good taste and success.
“Will you pour, my lady?” Ted was all simpering grace, annoying Ash even further. Lady Prudence was just another artist. There was no reason to treat her like royalty.
“How long have you been painting, Lady Prudence?” Ash figured he might as well join in the conversation to avoid a major argument with Ted after Lady Prudence left.
“Like all young ladies of the ton, I took watercolor instruction from my governess as a young girl.”
“Of course you did.”
She glared at him but continued. “However, my governess believed I had talent beyond her teaching skills, so she convinced my parents to engage an artist to work with me.”
“And you certainly rose to his expectations, I am sure.” Ted’s attempt to smooth over the angst in the room between him and Lady Prudence was almost comical. But the looks his partner was casting at him were not humorous, convincing Ash he’d better stop antagonizing everyone if they wanted Lady Prudence’s art show to be a success.
After all, this was a business, and they needed the income from the sale of artwork. He had grudgingly admitted to himself when they viewed the pieces she’d brought with her today that she was a talented artist. Not as good as his mother, of course, but certainly worthy of a show at Reeves and Goddard.
Ted rose and picked up his appointment book from the top of the newly acquired mahogany desk and settled back into his seat. He flipped through a few pages and named a date. “I believe we should be ready for the show by then.” He looked up at Lady Prudence. “How many more pieces do you believe will be ready by then?”
Lady Prudence tapped her full lips with her fingertip. “Since I have already started one, I can probably have another two, possibly three.”
Ted nodded. “Excellent. That will give us a total of twenty-three or maybe twenty-four paintings for the show.”
Lady Prudence placed her teacup in the saucer on the table in front of them. “I must tell you, Mr. Goddard,” she stopped and looked at Ash, “and you as well, Mr. Reeves, that I am most appreciative of your interest in my work and your willingness to showcase it. It is a dream I’ve always had and never thought I would see fulfilled.”
Patting her hand, almost like a kindly grandfather, Ted said, “I am sure great success will come your way. Mr. Reeves and I both believe your work will be well received.” He turned to Ash. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Reeves?”
Lady Prudence smirked at him, obviously waiting for him to disparage her work. Well, she would lose this round, since he knew good art, and he wasn’t about to give her the benefit of relishing his lies.
“That is correct, Mr. Goddard. I believe Lady Prudence is very talented and her work will be duly celebrated by our clients.”
She regarded him with puzzlement. Good. Keep the woman guessing and off-balance where he was concerned. That way he had no trouble with his initial reaction to her.
“Ash, would y
ou be so kind as to escort Lady Prudence back to her carriage and see her off? I have some paperwork I must attend to.” Ted stood and extended his hand to Lady Prudence. “I shall be in touch with you to keep you apprised of our progress in setting up the show.”
She gathered her things and took Ted’s hand, gave it a brisk shake, and the three of them left the drawing room. Ted proceeded upstairs, most likely to his office, while Ash was stuck “escorting” their latest artist to her carriage. Something they’d never had to do with any artists before, but now with an aristocrat among them, it appeared the rules had changed.
Once they had reached the pavement and Ash had signaled the driver of her carriage to pull up in front of them, Lady Prudence turned to him, her cute little nose in the air. “I have no idea why, Mr. Reeves, but apparently you dislike me. Will that be a problem with the show coming up?”
“Not true, my lady. I do not dislike you. I merely distrust you.”
Her brows rose. “Oh?”
“Yes. I don’t trust this is a serious matter for you. From what I know about ladies of rank, you will shortly find some man to marry and will disappear from the art world, leaving us with clients looking for new artwork from an artist who will no longer be available.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I can assure you, Mr. Reeves, that I am not in the market for a husband, and I am a serious artist.”
He snorted and opened the door to her carriage. “We will see, won’t we, my lady?”
“Yes. We shall.” She took his outstretched hand and climbed into the carriage, settling herself on the seat. “Good day, Mr. Reeves.”
He closed the door and signaled the driver to proceed.
3
Prudence followed her parents from their townhouse to the carriage awaiting them at the end of the pathway. Sunday was always her favorite day. She really enjoyed going to church and always came away feeling refreshed and ready to start a new week with peace and hope in her heart.
As the carriage lurched forward, her sprits dimmed a bit when she thought back to the meeting with Mr. Reeves two days before. She’d been stunned at his surly attitude. At first, she thought he objected to holding an art show for a woman, but then when he made his remarks about women of rank and his contention about dropping her art to marry, she realized he was prejudiced against women of the ton.
She had no idea what his background was or why he felt the way he did, but she would not allow that to deter her goal of having a successful art show and being recognized as a true artist among the London art world.
The little bubble of excitement that always started in her stomach when she thought of the art show replaced any dour considerations about Mr. Reeves. Hopefully, Mr. Goddard would be the man with whom she would have most of her dealings. He’d been so pleasant and helpful from the time she had first approached him.
The past two days she’d been busy sketching a couple of ideas for paintings on vellum before she would take up her brushes and paint on the canvas. Very excited by the ideas she’d come up with, she realized it would be necessary for her to get to the art supply store to pick up more paint and other supplies. She would go first thing the next morning.
The spire from St. James’ Church on Piccadilly rose before them as the carriage rounded the corner from Jermyn Street onto York Street. They rolled to a stop and the groom opened the door. Papa stepped out first, then turned to take Mother’s hand. The groom assisted Prudence out of the carriage, and within minutes, they had made their way up the path, nodding and greeting other congregants, then seated themselves comfortably in the earl’s pew at the front of the church.
Prudence breathed in the familiar and comforting air of the church sanctuary and picked up her hymnal, flipping through the pages. This was her time to reflect on the week, pray for guidance for the upcoming week, and simply enjoy Vicar Carr’s sermon.
The congregation stood, and the first strains of the opening hymn had just begun when a man entered their pew. Since the church was always crowded and Papa was quite generous, he had always allowed others the use of their family pew.
She turned to smile at the man and instantly froze.
Mr. Reeves.
He looked just as surprised as she did and remained stock-still, merely staring at her.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Reeves?” she whispered.
His raised brows almost reached his hairline. “I imagine the same thing you are doing here, Lady Prudence.”
She frowned. “Do you attend this church?”
“As I am standing next to you, the assumption would be that I do.” He nodded at the hymnal in her hand. “Do you mind sharing that?”
“Isn’t there another one on the shelf?” She gestured to the shelf under the back of the pew in front of them.
“If there were, I can assure you, I would certainly not be bothering you. I did not know you owned the pew.”
“We don’t own the pew! It is our family pew. All the titled families have them.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to snatch them back. The smirk on his face told her exactly what he thought of her, her family’s pew, and every noble in general.
Mother turned to Prudence. “My dear, you two are getting quite loud.”
“Sorry,” Prudence mumbled.
Mr. Reeves continued to stare at her, so she reluctantly shifted so he could see the hymnal. They sang one line before the hymn ended, and they all took their seats. She pulled her skirts close so as not to touch him.
“My clothes are clean, Lady Prudence. I even bathed for the occasion. You won’t catch any nastiness by sitting close to me.”
Oh, this man! He was the orneriest person she had ever encountered. She raised her chin and whispered, “I am merely making certain you have enough room.”
He snorted and she clenched her teeth so hard she thought her jaw would break. How dare he disrupt her Sunday morning, the one day of the week she enjoyed for the calm and peaceful feelings that came over her after the service.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Mother leaned toward her and glanced past her to Mr. Reeves, who turned and nodded, giving her mother a warm smile. She smiled back and patted Prudence’s hand.
It appeared Mr. Reeves had no problem with the ladies of the ton, as long as they weren’t having art shows in his gallery. Ignoring him was her best decision.
If only.
The very pleasant scent of whatever he’d used for his bath drifted toward her nose. The warmth from his body radiated so much heat she felt the need to open the flaps of her pelisse but refrained from doing so since he would most likely comment on that also.
She attempted to concentrate on the vicar’s sermon, but her eyes kept drifting over toward Mr. Reeves. He was certainly a handsome man. It was too bad he was so churlish. His dark blond hair fell in curls over his forehead and hugged the back of his cravat. Whenever he glanced back at her, his deep blue eyes caused funny little twitches in her middle.
Prudence closed her eyes and attempted to forget who was sitting alongside her and concentrate instead on the words of wisdom from Mr. Carr.
“Are you sleeping?” Mr. Reeves’ warm breath startled her more than his voice, causing her to squeak.
Mother and Papa looked over at her. She felt the flush start in her stomach and make its way up to her face. Damnation, she disliked this man. Why the devil wouldn’t he leave her alone?
“No. I am not sleeping. I am merely trying to gain some peace to focus on Mr. Carr’s message.” Her furious whisper only made him smile.
Good Lord, the man was baiting her!
* * *
To say Ash was surprised to find himself next to the pompous Lady Prudence in church was a gross understatement. It would just be his luck to pick her family’s pew to squeeze into when he arrived later than usual and was unable to find a seat anywhere else. He had no way of knowing that Lady Prudence Sterling was a member of Lord Pomeroy’s family. But then, he never paid much attention to deBrett�
�s anyway.
He enjoyed the Sunday service and rarely missed a week. Mr. Carr was a compassionate man and an excellent speaker. His sermons were always thought-provoking and left him feeling good about himself and life in general. No fire and brimstone for him.
Then he found himself next to the queen of the art world.
He sneaked a glance at her after she pulled her skirts close to herself. Most likely she was afraid she’d catch something from someone who was not of her world. Lice or gnats or other undesirables.
It was too bad she was so pretty. Well, truth be told, as he’d noted before, she was beautiful. But weren’t all the lofty women of the ton just so? They had nothing to do with their time except soak in milk baths, perfume and powder themselves, gossip, shop, and work to snag a husband.
Except Lady Prudence, apparently.
She spent her time painting, and he had to give her credit. She was an excellent artist. He would even go so far as to say she was his mother’s equal. That was something he had never admitted before. Of any artist, man or woman. And to think he had to acknowledge that of a lady!
He didn’t fully understand why he found it necessary to antagonize her. To keep her at a distance, surely, but were he honest with himself, the real reason was she scared him. He felt a very strong attraction to Lady Prudence and not just because she was a fine artist. She was beautiful, possessed of curves he wanted to run his hands over, and deep brown eyes framed with long thick eyelashes he could lose himself in.
No woman of the ton would give him a second glance. He was an earl’s bastard, raised by an unmarried mother who supported herself by painting. At least she hadn’t supported the two of them by being some nob’s mistress.
He’d been on the outside looking in since he was old enough to know he was outside. His mother provided him with almost everything a child would need. Love and affection, a comfortable home, plenty of food, fine clothing, and an excellent education. The one thing she did not—indeed, could not—provide him with was a father. A man who took an interest in him, was impressed with his accomplishments, and offered advice on becoming a man.
For the Love of the Gentleman Page 2
