By the time he arrived at the gallery, he had reeled in his temper and decided to be pleasant but aloof with Lady Prudence. She was an artist the gallery was sponsoring—no more, no less.
Her carriage was already at the end of the gallery pathway when he arrived. He assisted her out of her carriage and walked with her to the door. Being a Monday, the building was closed so he fumbled with his keys to unlock the door. Ted usually spent his days off by sleeping, eating, and reading. Ash generally spent the time painting.
He assisted Lady Prudence out of her pelisse and hung it up on the coatrack near the door. “I’m sorry it’s a bit chilly in here. Since we are closed on Sunday and Monday, the building grows quite cold. However, I have a fireplace upstairs in my studio. If you will follow me, I will lead you up there and get a fire warming you.”
“Thank you.” She rubbed her palms over her arms and looked around the room with the paintings and other pieces of art shadowed in dimness due to the dreary day.
“Do you wish to put your coat back on until the fire is going?”
“No. I’m sure I will be warm enough soon.”
Her lips were a bit blue.
He hated how his thoughts immediately turned to how he could warm her up that had nothing to do with his fireplace. He had to stop this torture he was putting himself through and remember she was no more than another woman.
But no other woman had affected him the way this one did.
As usual, his studio was a mess. “Excuse the clutter. I find I am not a very neat artist.” He grinned as she viewed the room.
“Not at all. It looks very much like my studio.” She offered him an affable smile which immediately warmed him more than any fire would.
“Surely, you are much neater about your workspace than I am?”
“No. My studio is filled with partially finished works, paint splatters on the tables, floor, and even on the walls.” She laughed, the warm, soft sound wanting him to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
Luckily, he did no such foolish thing and instead made his way to the fireplace. “Have a look around while I try to warm us up,” he said over his shoulder.
He kept himself busy with the tinder box and getting a decent fire started. From the corner of his eye, he kept track of Lady Prudence as she wandered the studio, stopping at various paintings and studying them. She would step back, bend her head one direction, then the other, and then move on to the next painting. He could not tell from her expression if she liked or disliked what she saw. Frankly, now that she was here, he found himself quite nervous and terrified to hear her comments.
He stood and brushed off his hands. “So, what do you think? Horrible?”
Her lips pursed, she continued to study one of his paintings. “Anything but horrible. You are very talented.”
All the praise in the world would never mean as much to him as hearing Lady Prudence pass judgment on his paintings. He felt like a young art student being congratulated by his instructor.
“I don’t really consider myself talented. I just enjoy painting.” He walked over to where she stood in front of one of his easels. “My mother is an artist, you know. Quite well-known in the art world.”
She seemed to hesitate, then said, “How very interesting. Have you had shows for her?”
He shook his head. “She had art shows years ago. Long before Reeves and Goddard came on the scene. She has now retired to the countryside where she paints more for pleasure and to fill requests from friends and former clients who still want to buy her work.”
Lady Prudence moved from one painting to another. “Why do you think you are not talented?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I spend too much time comparing my paintings to my mother’s.”
She studied him for a minute, then waved at the painting in front of them. “This is very good. I have not seen any of you mother’s work, but I see very little wrong with this one.”
“Ah. Very little. A backward compliment if I ever heard one.”
She grinned and pointed to the painting. “I would make the background a bit hazier. It would bring out the depth of the color of the horses.”
He stared at the painting with new insight. “I believe you are correct.”
They moved on to other partially and some fully completed paintings. She had something nice to say about each one and offered excellent advice on some that he was struggling with. His admiration for her talent increased tenfold. He’d begun to feel as though she was truly his soulmate. Then he pulled himself up shortly.
Soulmate?
The next thing he knew he would be writing and spouting bad poetry at her, an excellent way to completely alienate her and have her pull her artwork from the gallery. She couldn’t have made it plainer with her refusal to ride with him. Lady Prudence would never consider an art gallery owner—a merchant—to be more to her than anyone else who served her. Like Mr. Middleton or her coach driver.
Which was why the next move he made while they stood close to each other, looking at his painting with the air between them rife with crackling awareness, the sound of their heavy breathing matching the thumping of his heart, was by far the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life.
He turned to her and her body seemed to shift closer, all the time studying his mouth as she licked her plump lips. The scent from her hair wafted up to him; the warmth from her body floated over him like an angel’s caress. Despite the voice in his head cursing and screaming at him, he reached out, cupped her face in his hands, and lowered his mouth to hers.
7
Over the years attending events during the Season, Prudence had received several kisses. Some anticipated and some surprises. Dark gardens were a favorite place for a man to take a stroll with a young lady, providing they were not gone long and were within the sight of the chaperone—although there were ways to dodge that very unpopular person.
Some kisses were pleasant, some not so pleasant, and some left her feeling as though she wanted to rinse her mouth out.
But this kiss…
Mr. Reeves had definitely learned the proper way to kiss a lady. She was not completely surprised when he leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. She’d been aware for a while that he seemed to have a fancy for her. Then he would insult her, and she chastised herself for being so foolish. He did have her at sixes and sevens most of the time.
He began tentatively at first, but apparently she’d given him some sort of indication that she was not displeased. Perhaps it was her slight moan.
He encircled her body with his arms and pulled her close. His kiss become possessive, daring, and wonderful. Before she could accept the fact that she was kissing this man who seemed to dislike her so much, he touched her lips with his tongue and she gasped, allowing him to sweep inside her mouth. Immediately swamped with an entirely new set of feelings, she forgot where she was, how improper this was, and with whom she was sharing such a delightful kiss.
He pulled back, grasping her shoulders. “Breathe.”
She took in a gulp of air, not realizing she had stopped breathing. Within seconds, Mr. Reeves released her and stepped back. His chin dropped, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Taking a deep breath himself, he looked up at her. “I must apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for and certainly improper. If you will agree to not cancel your showing, I swear to you this will never happen again.”
Still reeling from the effects of his kiss, Prudence could only stare at him. Her first thought was regret at the need to breathe, which had made him pull back. Improper or not, she thoroughly enjoyed his kiss and, truth be known, would prefer to experience it again.
She shook her head as if coming out of a trance. “Why would I cancel my show?”
“At one time in our history, kissing a woman above one’s rank and class would end in the removal of one’s head.” His attempted smile did not quite make it.
She sighed. That again.
Mr. Reeves had always struck her as confident, intelligent, and powerful in his world. Now, he looked so vulnerable she fought the desire to pull him close to comfort him. Perhaps a bit of humor would end the tension between them that had gone from desire to awkwardness. “I don’t see anyone hovering about with a sword.”
He gave her a slight smile and drew himself up. “Are you ready to go? I believe we’ve viewed enough of my work for one day.” He turned and headed toward the door.
“Stop.”
Mr. Reeves came to a stop but didn’t turn around. Should she remind him that turning his back on her was considered a cut direct and not good manners since he seemed to be such a stickler for proper conduct? “Did you allow that I might not have wanted to order your head removed?”
She walked closer so she was only a couple of steps behind him. “That maybe I enjoyed your kiss?”
He turned then, his face a mask of puzzlement. “How can you say that? I am a bastard, a merchant. I had no right to even think about what I just did.”
“Ah, but you did think about it.” She shrugged. “Just like I’ve thought about it.”
Mr. Reeves shook his head. “No. You forget yourself. Rather, I forgot myself.” He extended his arm. “May I escort you to your carriage, Lady Prudence?”
Very well. He not only wanted to pretend what happened never had, but he was quickly putting up that wall between them with his Lady Prudence. There appeared to be no point in continuing the discussion. He had made up his mind. She would retreat for now.
But retreat was not surrender.
On the ride home, she pondered what had happened. Apparently, she was not the only one who felt an attraction between them. Although she had suspected it, with the way he kept her at arm’s length, she’d begun to doubt her assumption.
But she’d been right.
This was the very first time in her life she felt more than friendship for a man. ’Twas the reason she’d decided not to continue with another Season and concentrate on her art. Mr. Reeves—goodness, could she still think of him as Mr. Reeves after that kiss?—continued to remind her that he was not of her class. As if she didn’t know that.
Did Mr. Reeves hope to shock her by blurting out that he was a bastard? To drive her back into her own world with disdain for the man? Should she have told him she already knew his story?
A giggle escaped. Mr. Reeves—Ashton, as she now thought of him—was in for a surprise. Despite all the titles in her circle of friends and her own family, she’d never been impressed with such a thing. Goodness, she could have been a marchioness, countess, or a viscountess had she encouraged any of the gentlemen who’d made it known that they had an interest in her.
As a spinster and an artist, she was already on the fringes of acceptable ton. Especially since she did not care what she was and what they thought. As long as her family and friends loved and accepted her, that was all she needed. That, and her art.
She sat back and closed her eyes. The next few weeks could be quite interesting.
* * *
Ash slammed his fist against the window frame as he watched Lady Prudence’s carriage round the corner and disappear from view. After he’d seen her into her carriage, he returned to the gallery and stood at the ground-floor window and stared at her vanishing coach like some lovesick youth.
What sort of an idiot had he become? Had the woman cast a spell over him? There was no other explanation for forgetting himself that way.
He’d always been confident when it came to women. He’d had his share of mistresses to warm his bed and young ladies who cast their eyes in his direction with hopes of marriage. Taking a wife was something he’d always planned on doing, but with the years spent building his business he didn’t have the time, or money, to consider it.
Now that he was in a better position to offer for a young woman, the one who caught his eye would never be the one for him. Caught his eye? Bloody hell, more than merely catching his eye, she had him tied in knots most of the time.
If she reconsidered and decided to pull her art show, there would be hell to pay with Ted. They’d both been working hard at getting everything set up, arranging for a light buffet, the correct wines, and pondering over the invitation list. They studied sketches of where the various paintings would be hung, shuffling them over and over until they were satisfied, leaving room for the ones she’d promised but hadn’t delivered yet. They’d even arranged for a couple of musicians to offer soft background music.
And now he’d stepped over the line so far he would be lucky if she only cancelled the art show and didn’t spread the word around the upper crust that Ashton Reeves was an idiot who was above himself.
He walked away from the window and ran his fingers through his hair. A note. That was what he needed to do. He would compose a very apologetic, professional note and again mention that he was looking forward to her art show. Then he would hand over to Ted all the rest of the needed contact with the artist.
His part would be to show up the night of the art show, talk to the guests, and sell paintings. Then he could retire completely from contact with Lady Prudence and allow Ted to conduct business with her going forward. That was a good, solid plan.
Except it left him feeling like shite.
* * *
Despite his best intentions, he never penned the note. The following Sunday, he arrived late at St. James for Sunday Service and was again forced to slide into the Pomeroy pew. Right next to the woman who kept him up nights. He attempted to reassure himself he was late because of crowded roadways and other events that prevented him from arriving on time.
Since he was in the house of God where lies were frowned upon, even to one’s self, he allowed that he might have purposely dawdled a bit longer over the morning newspaper.
Lady Prudence greeted him with raised eyebrows and a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Reeves.”
He gave her a terse nod and grabbed a hymnal on the shelf under the seat in front of him. Thank goodness, he didn’t have to share this time.
The music started, and they all stood. “May I share your hymnal?” Lady Prudence grinned at him.
He looked in her hands, then on the shelf in front of her. No hymnal.
“Certainly.” He shifted the book so they both could see it.
And so began his torture. All though the service. Her scent, her warmth. The smile she offered when the vicar’s words touched her. Her soft laughter rolled over him.
Not that he was aware of her, of course.
The congregation stood as the final hymn was sung. He snapped the book shut and stepped out of the pew, allowing Lady Prudence to proceed him. He nodded at Lord and Lady Pomeroy who followed.
“Did you enjoy the sermon, Mr. Reeves?” Lady Prudence asked.
There was a sermon?
He turned to her. “Yes. Very good. Thoughtful.”
“I agree.”
Lady Pomeroy smiled warmly at him. “Well, good day to you, Mr. Reeves. Will you be joining us for luncheon?”
“Of course he is, Mother. There is much we need to discuss about the show. Isn’t that so, Mr. Reeves?” Lady Prudence lifted her chin, a direct challenge in her eyes.
Now, what was that all about? Why wasn’t she ordering him to leave her presence? Did she plan to get him to her house and then reveal to her father what a cad he’d been?
Ash could not pass up the opportunity to see this to its conclusion. If she planned to announce at luncheon that she was cancelling her art show, then he was prepared to accept her decision and find a way to keep Ted from shooting him.
“I would be delighted to join you for luncheon, my lady.”
Lady Prudence turned to her parents. “I will ride with Mr. Reeves in his carriage.”
“I’m not sure that is proper, Pru.” Lady Pomeroy glanced between Ash and her daughter.
“Mother, for heaven’s sake. I am six and twenty years old. On the shelf. A spinster. Practically a bluestocking. We are leaving church,
driving a few miles home.” She took Ash’s arm and spoke over her shoulder as she practically dragged him away. “It will be fine.”
They were barely settled into the carriage when Lady Prudence smoothed out her skirts, folded her hands in her lap, and cast her piercing eyes directly on him. “Mr. Reeves. Do you care to explain to me why you behaved in such a dastardly fashion toward me at your studio?”
8
Ash straightened in his seat and looked directly at Lady Prudence. He was ready for the tongue-lashing he was about to receive. And deserved.
“My lady, I must once again apologize for my behavior. As I stated at the time, it will never happen again.”
She smirked, her lovely mouth in a slight smile. “But, you see, that is the problem, Mr. Reeves.”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Lady Prudence slid farther up on her seat so their knees were practically touching. “Perhaps I want it to happen again.”
Although he did not feel as though he were getting close to his dotage, the thought raced through his mind that he really must get his hearing checked. Or perhaps it was the blood pounding in his head from being near her again. “I am afraid I do not understand.” If he misread this one, she would surely cancel her art show and most likely send her father off to select his second.
She tilted her head in a delightful way, her brown eyes wide, her lips in a soft smile. “Mr. Reeves, I was not upset by your kiss. In fact, I rather enjoyed it. To hear you say it would never happen again is quite disturbing.”
Bloody hell.
It took almost a full minute for her words to sink into his brain. His mouth dried up and he regarded her as if she’d just announced that after luncheon she was leaving for the American colonies. “Lady Prudence, I—” He stopped. There were simply no words. At least none that made any sense.
For the Love of the Gentleman Page 5
