The Seduction of Lady Charity: The Baxendale Sisters Book Four by Maggi Andersen Page A

and saucer wondering what he was about to reveal to Charity of himself that he preferred to keep hidden at this moment.
    “He wasn’t. Entirely. It was as if he’d been tested and found himself wanting.” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “I believe I’ve developed some ability to read character as I paint faces, but I could be entirely wrong.”
    “And the marchioness?” he prompted as she measured him with her eyes and turned back to the page.
    “Disappointment.”
    He raised his brows. “You revealed that in the painting?”
    “I found a hint of sadness in her eyes, but my interpretation was subtle. Most who viewed the portrait would admire her beauty.”
    “She is a strikingly beautiful woman.” Robin disliked sitting still for long. He shifted in his seat. “And Gunn?”
    “Colorful. Outrageous. Warm-hearted. Stubborn, perhaps.”
    “You saw all that in him in the brief time you had together?” He grappled with another bout of jealousy.
    “Please don’t do that with your lips, Robin.” Frowning slightly, she reached for her rubber.
    “Who do you plan to paint next?” He tapped a finger on the arm of the chair, his frustration increasing.
    “I’ve been offered another commission but have yet to accept it.”
    He frowned. “Who is it?”
    “Lord Kirkbride.”
    He scowled. “Kirkbride? He has an even worse reputation than Gunn.”
    “Does he? Well, Gunn has always been gentlemanly in my presence, so I don’t see why Lord Kirkbride won’t be also.”
    He quirked a brow. “You are not invulnerable, you know.”
    “No. But neither am I stupid. I shall always be careful.”
    “Why haven’t you accepted him then?”
    “I’ve been too busy,” she said vaguely.
    “Has painting portraits begun to pall?” he prodded, testing her resolve.
    She looked up and narrowed her eyes. “Of course not. It’s my vocation.”
    “So you have taken on no new work?”
    “Only a neighbor’s child.”
    “Waiting for another offer to go and paint some fellow in his far-flung castle?” he said, annoyed at himself for his possessiveness.
    She glared at him. “I have no idea where my art might take me. I still have much to learn. I’m considering joining the artists at the Royal Academy in the Strand.”
    He drew in a breath. “What? I doubt your father will be pleased with that idea.”
    “Possibly not, which is why I haven’t yet decided to do it. I’m not even sure I will accept your commission.”
    “Then what are we doing here?” he asked, his temper getting the better of him.
    “This is research.”
    He stood up, his fingers itching to grab her and conduct a bit of research of his own. “Well, why don’t we go for a walk, get some fresh air, before you go on?”
    “Sit down please, Robin. I will say when I’m tired.”
    “If I must.” He sat again and set his jaw.
    “I can see it will be difficult to paint you. You are so impatient.”
    “Impatient? I am the soul of forbearance, I assure you,” he said, his gaze roaming from her hair to her slim waist.
    An hour passed. The room quieted except for the sound of her pencil and the snuffle of Henry asleep by the fire. Robin’s senses came alive. He watched her as she worked, the smooth pale skin of her arm when she pushed back her sleeve, her shell-like ear, the sudden pervasive perfume of lilies in a vase on the table. For a moment, he abandoned his fierce desire to win her and just enjoyed their companionship.
    “This is what it would be like if we were married,” he said, suddenly reckless.
    Her pencil stilled, and then she added light, feathery strokes to the page. “Married couples don’t tend to spend much time together. At least not those I have observed. For example, Father is busy with his estates and Mama with household matters.”
    “I meant to ask. How is your father?”
    “He seems better. It’s difficult to tell. He doesn’t complain, except about being confined to the house.”
    “He’ll come to the party tomorrow