Page 14

“B other!”

Evelyn had almost made it safely out of the art supplies shop without dropping anything, which was a small miracle in and of itself—but not quite.

A small cascade occurred in her arms, two of her many brown-paper-wrapped parcels slipping to the floor.

“Here, Lady Evelyn,” said the shop assistant with a helpful expression. “Shall I just… ah…”

“Just tuck them on top of the pile,” said Evelyn. Laurent’s arms were similarly full, the lady’s maid barely able to peer over the top of them to peek at her mistress from a few feet behind her. Evelyn grinned.

The trouble was, Evelyn was holding so many parcels, she was not quite sure whether or not the shop assistant could see her smile.

Perhaps she should not have attempted to buy that new paint set as well as the box of charcoals.

And the new paper was finally in stock, so she’d had to buy a stack of that.

And that beautiful sketchbook. And that trio of paintbrushes. And—

“Are you quite sure you and your maid are able to carry all that?” asked the shop assistant, in a tone that clearly declared she did not consider Evelyn able to walk five steps without a small, brown avalanche. “We can easily send them to your address.”

“Oh, yes, home is only a few streets away,” Evelyn said hurriedly.

The last time she had allowed the art shop to deliver her parcels, they had arrived an entire day later. A whole four and twenty hours, without her purchases?

Perish the thought.

“I see,” said the shop assistant slowly. “Well, let me open the door for you, Lady Evelyn.”

The door opened—Evelyn could tell because she heard the bell—and she stepped toward the sound.

Laurent muttered something in French under her breath that Evelyn had to assume was a complaint.

Only when she had stepped into the street and felt the bustle of the busy day, getting nudged and jostled by passersby, did she realize just how difficult this would be.

She could not see where she was going, for a start.

Well, she couldn’t just stand here. Evelyn stepped forward, making a turn and heading in the direction of her home.

At least, she thought it was the direction of her home.

Yes, it had to be. She smiled to herself and kept going, one slow step at a time.

She brushed past the people on the street, uttering her apologies, and she turned down another street.

Then, after many more slow, careful steps, she turned down another.

“My lady?” called the soft, dulcet tones of her lady’s maid. She sounded quite some distance away.

Had the maid gotten turned around somewhere?

Evelyn swung around to check and almost tripped over a stone. One of her parcels fell to the ground.

Ah. She had not considered what she would do in such a situation. Right.

Keeping a tight grip on the canvas under her left arm, Evelyn tried to slowly lower herself down, reaching out with her right hand while trying not to—

The avalanche occurred. Scattering across the pavement, a few of the smaller parcels already trodden on by passersby, Evelyn groaned with frustration as her arms emptied and her precious parcels became strewn in all directions.

“Oh, blast it all to—”

“Evelyn?”

Evelyn straightened up, her cheeks flushing. She was not supposed to curse. She had always been so good at keeping it inside. Still, it had been particularly galling to see the box of charcoals crushed.

When she looked up to see who, unlike her merciful maid, would tell of her indiscretion to her mother—or worse, her father—it was to see…

“Richard,” she whispered.

There he was, standing just a few feet away. He was staring in astonishment.

Heat burned. It was strange, in a way; she was so accustomed to seeing Richard in her art studio that she had almost forgotten he must exist in the real world whenever he was not with her.

It was a strange thought.

What was even more strange was that he was wearing a shirt, and waistcoat, and coat. The heat twisted into a strange delight. All these people rushing past them, and it was she who had seen him half-naked.

The thought scandalized her, forcing the heat within her upward until it scalded her cheeks. She could not be thinking of the man being naked. Not in public!

“Having some trouble with our purchases, are we?” Richard asked with a wry smile.

“My lady’s maid seems to have gotten lost,” she said, her eyes darting around for the diminutive woman also buried behind boxes. No such other person was in sight. In fact, looking around the unfamiliar area, Evelyn was rather unsure if she had not gotten lost herself.

“As she often does, I find.” He bent down on one knee and started grabbing for the packages.

The flush of embarrassment became one of determination. “I have sourced some art supplies for my next project.”

“‘Project’?”

“Yes,” Evelyn said sweetly, hardly knowing how she was being so daring—and in public, too! “I am about to paint a man in the nude.”

Richard had picked up a few of her parcels, but they immediately slipped from his grasp as he stared in horror. “Y-You are?”

“I am,” she replied, unable to prevent herself from being delighted at his response.

“But…” Despite the crowds, despite the many people passing them on the pavement, Richard closed the gap between them. When he spoke again, it was in a low mutter. “Who the devil else are you painting, Evelyn?”

Her eyes widened in shock. He was… jealous?

She had intended only to tease about painting him in the nude—yet now she thought back, she could see the confusion.

“You do not want me painting anyone else?” she asked quietly before she could stop herself.

There was a crack somewhere to her left. That would have been the paintbrushes, destroyed by a wayward boot.

She did not look around. How could she, when her eyes were caught by Richard’s dark ones?

Richard wet his lips before his answer. Evelyn found herself glancing at them before returning to his eyes.

“I… I like our sittings. Our conversations. Our time together.”

“So do I,” Evelyn breathed.

Somehow, her hand brushed up against his own, and though she wore gloves, the sudden sparking heat shivered through her body.

“Oh, pardon me, miss,” said someone who bumped into her, pushing her into Richard.

Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat as Richard put out his hands to catch her, but the stranger’s words served as an unbidden reminder that intimate though their conversation was… they were in public. Standing in a street, where anyone could see them.

Evidently, Richard had had the same realization. Clearing his throat loudly and stepping swiftly away, he started to gather up her parcels.

She leaned down herself to pick up a few of them and just managed to avoid brushing her fingers up against Richard’s. It was a difficult thing not to do, but she’d had enough startled moments today. She was not certain if she could bear another.

“I am glad I was here to be of assistance,” said Richard formally, straightening up with half a dozen brown paper parcels in his arms.

Evelyn mirrored him, carrying a great deal of parcels in her turn.

Goodness, were they multiplying? She did not recall purchasing so many as all this—and Laurent, wherever she was, carried just as many.

“As am I. My mother would not appreciate me speaking to a stranger. At least, not again. I have a reputation in my family for proposing to gentlemen.”

Richard dropped all her parcels.

“Proposing that they sit for me as models,” Evelyn added, her cheeks burning. Goodness, there must have been a way to say that properly the first time! “My family considers me bold enough already.”

“I can see that,” Richard muttered as he once again picked up her parcels. “I do apologize. There appears to be some mud splattered on this one.”

“Oh, that’s the box of charcoals, I think, utterly ruined,” she replied with a sigh. “I shall just have to see what I can make of them.”

“The art shop isn’t too far away.” His gesture was slight, burdened as he was by a great number of items. “Why not return the charcoals and replace them for new?”

The thought had never occurred to her—would never have occurred to her.

Evelyn scrunched up her nose as she started walking toward the direction she was sure led home.

The sooner she divested herself of these parcels, and the worryingly powerful presence of Richard, the better.

Perhaps it best she hide her face slightly behind the parcels, even if her arms were hardly as full as they had been before.

“Why would I?” she replied as Richard fell in step beside her. “It is hardly the shop’s fault that I did not consider my ability to transport my purchases home. Why should they carry the financial burden, merely because I was unprepared?”

Apparently, she had said something most odd. At least, he was staring while squinting, his head slightly tilted.

“What have I said?”

“It’s just… Well, you’re a lady.”

“Well spotted,” said Evelyn with a grin as they turned a corner.

Color splattered across Richard’s cheeks. “No, I meant—well, a highborn lady. Nobility. Yet you think of the people in that art shop and worry about their livelihoods.”

“Oh, not too much,” she said breezily, trying to dampen down the jubilation his words had provoked.

“I purchase so much from them, I sometimes wonder whether I am the sole customer for that shop. Even so, I believe I still purchase enough pencils from them to send their children to some very good schools.”

And he laughed, and all of a sudden, the day was wonderful and joyous, and not a tedious day in which she could not continue her sketching because she did not have sufficient pencils.

“I can see—well, feel, that you have purchased more than pencils,” Richard said.

“Yes, I always intend to go there for one thing and return home with a great amount more,” said Evelyn ruefully. “Perhaps I should have considered that today before leaving home.”