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CHAPTER TWO

The following morning, the party decided on a picnic by the lake.

Angelica chose her cream-colored sprig muslin gown, which flattered her figure, as well as a straw bonnet with a navy-blue ribbon.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, a childish thought invaded her mind—would Mr. Drent like the image she presented?

Why in the world should that matter? She wondered. According to her mother, he had the most shocking reputation for philandering—not that Angelica put much stock in her mother's words. Even so, his roguish charm and handsome features were more than enough warning for her.

Men like Mr. Drent had been seeking her out since she made her debut in society, and their intentions were never honorable. There was no point in pursuing such silly avenues of thought.

Yet a part of her couldn’t help but feel elated when she saw Mr. Drent's eyes widen as he took her in.

The rest of the party was already waiting for them at the entrance hall of the manor, and Angelica and her mother joined them as they stepped out into the bright morning sun. The sky was blue, scattered with light clouds, and a pleasant breeze drifted in from the lake.

When they arrived at the picnic spot—just beside the woods overlooking the lake, they all sat down together and spoke about Lord Hartfield's announcement from the previous evening—that Lady Hartfield was expecting their first child.

The gentlemen congratulated Hartfield again, while the ladies gathered around Lady Hartfield to talk of baby clothes and a winter birth.

"My Angelica was born on a spring day," said her mama, before launching into a vivid account of the terrible pains she suffered. Angelica caught Lady Hartfield's horrified expression and quickly intervened.

"Lady Hartfield, do tell me about the modifications you’re planning for the nursery," she said—and the lady's gratitude at the change of subject was plain to see.

The morning passed in relative ease for the company, apart from Angelica's constant need to interrupt her mother's prattling with the occasional word of sense. It was exhausting work, as Lady Hutton possessed very little sense of her own.

By the time noon had arrived, Angelica was beginning to feel the strain of too much conversation and too little action. She fidgeted on the flannel sheet, aching to draw something—anything.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over her, blocking the oppressive heat of the sun.

"Miss Hutton, I was wondering if you would like to walk with me a bit," said the smooth voice of Mr. Drent.

Angelica met his verdant gaze and saw only honest intention. Despite her mother's stare, she happily nodded.

"Yes, that would be lovely, sir," she replied.

Mr. Drent took her hand in his, her lace glove regretfully preventing her from feeling his skin. They were lovely hands—soft and elegant, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. A nobleman's hands.

Despite their softness, his grip was strong as he helped her up and steadied her with his arm. Angelica felt her face blush at the proximity of their bodies.

Immediately, and unfortunately, Mr. Drent retreated a step from her.

"There’s a path that leads away from the lake and into the woods. It should be proper enough, as it won't take us far from the rest of the party," he said—this last part directed at Angelica's mother.

Lady Hutton, left with no polite way to prevent her daughter from joining, reluctantly nodded.

Angelica's heart beat faster. Here was her chance to escape the constraints of her mother—but more importantly, it was an opportunity to learn more about the mysterious Mr. Drent. She felt a genuine smile rising on her face.

Even now, as they walked towards the woods, she was mesmerized by Mr. Drent's fluid movements and handsome profile. Yesterday, she had drawn him from memory, but hadn’t been able to put much detail into her drawing of his face.

Today, she could see every minute expression, and she silently vowed to try again. Yet there was a glint in his eye—some inner light to him that she feared she could never truly capture in a drawing.

They exchanged pleasantries and talked about the weather, and soon found themselves beneath the canopy of the trees, away from the rest of the company.

"Such a day is sure to inspire poets," said Mr. Drent. "A rare summer day in the middle of spring."

"I do enjoy poetry, but not as much as I appreciate a well-captured scene in art," Angelica replied. Mr. Drent turned to her in surprise.

"You enjoy art? Tell me, Miss Hutton—do you paint? Surely an accomplished young lady such as yourself could capture this beautiful morning."

Angelica blushed. How much could she trust him with her words? She decided to venture forth.

"I draw bodies in motion," she replied, her heart pounding. "Moving figures, human forms. Those are the most satisfying to capture, in my opinion."

Mr. Drent looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then, to her immense relief, an astonished smile spread over his face.

"A lady who draws something other than portraits and sceneries. You are a mystery to me, Miss Hutton."

Angelica felt elated by his praise—made all the more precious by its sincerity.

Mr. Drent stopped beside a giant elm with winding branches, the kind that concealed them easily from the rest of the party.

"Here I climbed only last summer," he reported with a smile. "Like the silly man I was, I believed myself capable of reaching a crow's nest located at the top of the tree. I fell and nearly broke my head—causing the crow to attack me mercilessly."

Angelica couldn't contain the laughter that burst out of her.

"Very dignified," she gasped, even as Mr. Drent frowned in mock chagrin.

"I will have you know, madam, that crows are fierce creatures. They peck, they screech, and they never forget an insult."

"Clearly! I only wonder what possessed you to do such a ridiculous thing," Angelica wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.

Mr. Drent laughed, exposing straight white teeth and drawing her gaze to his mischievous mouth. She wanted to trace those lips and catch their movement.

"Surely you have done something silly in your past, Miss Hutton," he said.

"Of course I have, but I will not share them with a gentleman," she replied.

Mr. Drent's eyes locked on hers. "Whyever not? Were they terribly naughty?"

Angelica blushed at the glint in his eyes. Was he jesting, or in earnest?

"Not naughty, merely embarrassing," she hedged, averting her gaze.

Mr. Drent chuckled. "Then I will push no further."

A moment of silence stretched between them. Angelica felt a tightening in her midriff, a flutter in her stomach just from being near the man. She licked her lips, which suddenly felt very dry.

Mr. Drent's eyes flickered to her lips, and his eyes darkened.

"Tell me, Miss Hutton… have you ever been naughty?"

Angelica held his gaze, even as it seared her. To her surprise, she replied, "Not yet. But I would like to be."

The air left Nev's lungs. A part of him was yelling at him to stop this foolishness—he didn't dally with debutantes.

But the other part that was slowly taking over, urged him to test the waters even more.

She was so lively and tempting, her beautiful face alight with intelligence and wisdom beyond her years.

And she looked delectable in her white dress, which revealed the pale expanse of her breasts.

As he looked at her open expression and her words echoed in his mind, Nev felt a tug at his heart that was both new and alarming. Without thinking further, he leaned in and gently kissed her parted lips.

To his delight, she leaned into his kiss and deepened it.

Her lips moved over his without mastery but with eagerness, and Nev's heart leapt in his chest. Suppressing a groan of desire, he cupped her cheeks, angling her face to give his tongue room to explore.

She tasted so sweet, her scent a faint trace of lilac in the air, and when her tongue met his with a hesitant touch, he had to breathe deeply just to calm his eagerness.

Breathless and disoriented, Nev pulled away from Miss Hutton and her sweet lips. This was madness—he was only a few yards away from her mother and his friends, yet he could hardly control himself. He had never felt an attraction so powerful and all-consuming.

Miss Hutton—Angelica—looked just as dazed as him.

"Did you feel that?" she whispered, looking at him with amazement.

"Yes, I felt it," he replied. And he did—in his very soul, he felt a sense of rightness unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Kissing Angelica was right—the most righteous thing in the world.

"I wish I could draw you," she muttered.

"Draw me? As in, make a portrait of me?" he asked, confused.

"No, truly draw you—capture your movement and body, see you for everything you are." Angelica's eyes shone with an inner light as she said it. And in that moment, Nev wanted nothing more than to accommodate her every wish.

"What would you need in order to draw me properly?"

"Privacy, first of all. A lady is not supposed to draw male bodies. And…" She hesitated, then closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and continued, "I will need to see you. All of you."

Nev's eyes widened with shock. Did she mean…?

"Miss Hutton, are you suggesting I undress for you?" He said with a grin.

Angelica looked at him, horrified. "Good lord, I apologize. Forget I said anything, I'm so sorr?—"

"No, do not apologize," Nev said, taking her hand in his and placing a soft kiss in its center. "I haven't refused yet."

Angelica looked stunned. "You would consider such a thing? Truly? Why? You are a gentleman."

"Not that much of a gentleman," he said, his smile widening. "I will let you draw me, Miss Hutton. Tonight. In your chambers. Will that be acceptable?"

She looked at him with wonder, her face flushed and her eyes glinting.

"Yes please," she whispered.

Good God, she was tempting. Nev's struggling conscience gave a dying gasp as he realized he had every intention of fulfilling her request. She would see him and draw him, and he would have her. Nothing felt truer than that.