The Husband List -2 by Victoria Alexander

as they knew such men were wrong for them.
    And once her affections were engaged, he could reveal the truth to her. Since the earl and the artist were one and the same, what would be the harm? Why, they’d probably laugh about it. It would be a story to tell their grandchildren one day.
    She had already agreed to sit for him. That would require spending a great deal of time together. He had no idea how he would manage to paint her portrait and still keep his true identity concealed. He absolutely refused to wear that irritating mask again. No doubt he would come up with something. He always did.
    He drew his brows together thoughtfully. It was a relatively simple plan, surely destined for success, yet he wondered if it wasn’t too simple. If there wasn’t a flaw in it that he failed to see. Impatiently, he pushed the disquieting idea away. It was the only plan he had at the moment, and the rewards, both financially and personally, were far too great to leave to chance.
    He folded the cloak over his arm, bent, and picked up the hat. He’d return the costume, then find Gillian. It was past time he shared a dance with the woman he was to marry. A slow smile grew from somewhere deep inside him, and he wondered who would be the first to seal their fate with a kiss.
    Richard or Toussaint?
    Gillian watched Toussaint’s cloaked figure disappear in the direction of the terrace, shook her head in amusement, and sank down on the cold bench.
    What an intriguing encounter. Toussaint was as arrogant and self-important as any other artist of her acquaintance, filled with an overblown sense of his own worth. And, just like the others, he had a need for praise that belied his conceit. Oh, they all hid it with bravado and swaggers that were typically smug, but the longer one observed them, the easier one recognized the signs of the artistic temperament. Toussaint was no different. Nicely done would never suffice for a man of his nature.
    What did he look like without the costume? He was tall, that couldn’t be hidden. It was apparent by the way he moved that he wasn’t fat or old. But what of his face? His refusal to remove his mask and all that nonsense about illusion indicated there was something he wished to hide. Did he have hideous scars? Or warts? Perhaps he was merely quite ordinary. If she did indeed sit for him she’d surely find out.
    And wasn’t there something odd about his voice? His accent was pronounced and a bit too prominent, as if he were trying to emphasize it. He probably thought it enhanced his reputation. After all, if the rumors about him were true, he’d left France at least twenty-five years ago. Toussaint would not be the first artist to create an exaggerated background of mystery and romance to increase interest in his work. With the exception of his remarkable talent, Gillian, and the rest of the world, really knew nothing at all about the man.
    Although he was most certainly French. She chuckled to herself. Who but a Frenchman would be brazen enough to suggest her portrait would be purchased by a lover?
    Richard.
    His face popped unbidden into her mind. Would he be her lover eventually? She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at her entwined fingers. Her husband? Certainly, if all went well. The thought was at once frightening and ... what? Wonderful?
    “Forgive my delay.” Gillian glanced up. Richard strode toward her carrying a glass of champagne in each hand. “I was unavoidably detained.”
    “Were you?” She smiled and rose to her feet, paying no heed to the tiny thrill that raced through her at his approach. “I was beginning to wonder if you had abandoned me.”
    “Never.” His voice teased, and he handed her a glass. His gaze dropped to the empty crystal on the bench. “But I see you haven’t been entirely alone.”
    “A waiter brought champagne,” she said without thinking and wondered why she hesitated to tell him about her meeting with Toussaint. Richard had a great appreciation