The Nude (full-length historical romance) by Dorothy McFalls Page A

my cousin.” Olivia jumped up from the sofa and pulled her arm around Elsbeth.
    “There is no need,” the younger of the daughters said. She rose from the sofa and walked away.
    “I am Sara,” the elder Dashborough said. “Please forgive my sister. She is . . . insecure.” Sara edged closer to Elsbeth. “But I am fascinated by you. I would dearly enjoy talking to you sometime this week.”
    “I would be only too happy to—”
    “Please excuse me, ladies.” Lord Edgeware appeared at Elsbeth’s side and deftly captured her arm. “Allow me to introduce Lady Mercer to the other guests before the three of you monopolize all her attentions.” He gave the women such a charming, dimpled smile it would have been impossible to object.
    “A pretty splattering of colors, do you not agree?” he said, not sparing even a passing glance toward the painting she could not seem to ignore. The dark lord stood too close to her. His spicy masculine scent left her breathless, her mind muddled. “I thought it matched the décor of this room.”
    Pretty ? She shivered and forced herself to turn away from the haunting image. He couldn’t even begin to understand how Dionysus’s lonely images could sting her heart.
    Just standing next to Edgeware and looking at the “splattering of colors” made her miss the soft emotions she’d long ago abandoned. Gracious , she needed to regain control. Allowing her foolish heart such freedom would prove dangerous.
    It always did.
    “Don’t run from me again,” Edgeware whispered as they strolled across the room, his voice an intimate caress on her ear, making it all the more difficult to steel her nerves against the softening of her resolve.
    “Forgive me, my lord,” she said, her voice as sharp as a fishwife’s.
    “Just don’t do it again,” he replied smoothly. “I would hate to wrack my brain once more in order to come up with a fresh excuse to lure you back to my side.”
    She bit her tongue, stopping herself before she told him that spending the evening in his company was one of the very last things she wished to do. A lie, if there was ever one, too. Perversely, like Dionysus’s paintings, Edgeware fascinated her.
    So, with a smile forming on her lips, she allowed herself to be introduced to the crowded room. Every now and again she caught her gaze straying back to Dionysus’s painting and would have to forcibly return her wandering attentions to the guests being introduced.
    Not all present that evening were staying at the house. Some were Edgeware’s neighbors. And not all of the faces were unfamiliar to her. Lord Ames had the decency to blush as he rubbed his cheek in memory of the slap she had given him the day of the exhibition.
    The famous “Beau” Brummel, the arbiter of taste and refinement, bowed over her hand and complimented her silver sheath of a gown. Stunned by his acceptance, she just barely murmured her gratitude. Mr. Brummel and Edgeware paid her no heed as they talked amicably about courtly affairs.
    Lady Cowper, one of the patronesses of Almack’s and a powerful figure in her own right, greeted Elsbeth with cool civility before turning her charm toward Edgeware. “I have pulled myself away from London during the height of the Season with the sole purpose to recruit you into our ranks, Edgeware. Whenever will you join Almack’s?” She swatted him with her fan. “There are so few eligible, handsome faces attending lately.”
    Lady Cowper’s husband, the Fifth Earl of Cowper, was on the other side of the room, talking politics with several of Edgeware’s neighbors.
    Much to Elsbeth’s surprise, other than Lady Dashborough’s youngest daughter, no one insulted her or tried to spurn her company. Even Lady Dashborough apologized for her earlier behavior. Apparently the Marquess’s social influence hadn’t been overstated.
    After the introductions, she wasn’t given the chance to return to her cousins or to disappear into a corner where she could