Page 15 of The Art of Sinning

Apparently she caught that he was mocking her, for she cast him a hard look. He grinned. All right, this might be unwise for many reasons, not least of which was that he must spend part of his time on a formal portrait. But it had its advantages, as well.

He would definitely enjoy sparring with the prickly Lady Yvette.

The sun had set by the time the wedding celebration was over and the Barlow carriage headed across London for the town house.

“You’re very quiet.”

The sound of Edwin’s voice made Yvette start. “So are you. What of it?”

“I’m always quiet. You, on the other hand, are a babbling brook after a social event. You like to tell me who said what and when. You like to either wax rhapsodic over the owner’s collection of books or bemoan their lack.”

“And describe the gowns,” she said lightly. “Don’t forget that.”

“I see I should have kept quiet about your being quiet.”

She let out a rueful laugh. Poor Edwin. She was such a trial to him. He liked his solitude, and she could only take solitude in small doses. Solitude gave one too much time to brood over the past.

“Very well, I won’t bore you about the gowns. Although I did think that Lady Zoe’s silver reticule was—”

“If you begin describing reticules, I swear I’ll throw myself from the coach.” Edwin paused. “But youcouldtell me what you and Keane were talking about in the gardens.”

Uh-oh. Trying to keep things secret from her brother always made her feel awful. “We were talking about the paintings, of course.”

“Paintings? More than just the portrait?”

Oh, Lord, she couldn’t believe she’d let that slip. “Not the portrait. We settled that immediately. His other paintings. The ones that have been exhibited.”

“Ah, right. The ones you criticized.”

“Gave an opinion of. That’s different from criticizing.”

“Hmm.” Edwin stared out the window. “You do realize that by hiring Keane to paint you, I was not... I didn’t mean to imply that you somehowneedto be shown as—”

“It’s all right, Edwin. I know what you think of me.”

“I’m not sure that you do.”

She banked as much irritation as she could. “You think I’m bent on thwarting your attempts at getting me married, so you wish to nudge me.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose you’re right about that.” He sounded edgy. “I’m worried you’re looking at past events as proof of why you should avoid finding a husband.”

“What past events?” Samuel had sworn never to tell Edwin about her nearly ruinous association with Lieutenant Ruston. Had he lied?

“What happened toward the end of our parents’ unfortunate marriage, of course.”

“Oh. Right.” She should have realized that Edwin didn’t know about her and the lieutenant, or he would have said something ages ago. “And you? You’re not letting Mama’s unhappiness turn you cynical about marriage?”

“I may be cynical about romantic love, but I dowantto marry. I need an heir. And you need someone to talk to other than your crotchety eldest brother.”

Remembering what Mr. Keane had said about the deal with Edwin, she tensed. “Are youthatsure I won’t find a husband?”

“Damn it, don’t twist my words again.” He leaned forward to clasp her hands, startling her. “Any man would be lucky to have you. I am not trying to make you ‘look attractive enough to convince some hapless fellow in search of a wife to ignore the evidence of his eyes’ or whatever nonsense you think. Iknowyou to be a beautiful, wonderful woman.”

A lump stuck in her throat. “So why the portrait?”

“Keane pointed out that having you painted by a man as famous as he might increase your popularity in society.”

That arrested her. What a clever devil Mr. Keane was. To get her to sit for his other painting, he’d convinced Edwin to commission a portrait he didn’t want to do. How typical of a manipulative rogue.