Page 24 of The Art of Sinning

“Because it no longer has anything to do with Samuel.”Or his friend, with whom I was infatuated. Until I realized that his interest in me was purely mercenary.“Samuel was an aficionado of prizefighting and was always throwing terms around that I didn’t comprehend. Wanting to understand him better, I started asking questions and taking notes. After a while, it became a bit of a hobby.”

“An obsession, more like,” Edwin said.

“But a purely academic one?” Mr. Keane searched her face. “I assume you’ve never actually been in those parts of London where it’s spoken.”

“I don’t need to go into such parts to learn about it,” she said defensively. “I’ve read all the dictionaries and Pierce Egan’s books. Also, I work with several charities involving women of a lower station, and I hear their use of such slang.”

“Besides,” Edwin said, “it’s not as if I would ever allow her to wander into Spitalfields or Wapping, even with an escort. It’s not safe for herorher reputation.”

Mr. Keane shot her a glance full of meaning.

“Edwin is always concerned about my safety,” she said hastily, “even here at the estate. It’s one of the disadvantages of having a much older brother.”

Edwin settled back in his chair. “You could change me out for a husband. Then you could do as you please.”

She snorted. “Do such indulgent men actually exist in society?”

“You’ll never find out if you keep running them off,” her brother said sourly.

Jane had accused her of much the same thing, and Yvette was sick of it. “I can’t help it if all the men I meet are as stodgy as you.”

“You mean, because they’re shocked when you quiz them about vulgar terms?” Edwin glanced at Mr. Keane. “Every time she meets a sporting gentleman, she asks him about any slang he might know. It’s one reason she can’t acquire any respectable suitors: They decide she’s either a bluestocking or rather lower than they thought.”

She sniffed. “Gentlemen make no allowances for a woman having unusual hobbies.”

“You could stop having them,” Edwin pointed out.

“You could stop tinkering with little mechanical people and start tinkering with actual living ones,” she snapped. “But I don’t criticizeyou.”

“I think you just did,” Mr. Keane said gamely.

“Stay out of this!” She faced her brother. “Do you really want me to give up all my interests just to gain a husband? When you’re not willing to give up yours to gain a wife?”

Mr. Keane laughed. “She’s got you there, Blakeborough. What’s sauce for the goose ought to be sauce for the gander.”

“Ought to be, I agree.” Edwin steepled his hands. “Sadly, in the rarefied atmosphere of our class, it is not. A man may be as eccentric as he pleases and still find a wife, especially if he has an estate and a title. But a woman, even an heiress, must be more careful if she doesn’t want a man marrying her for her money alone.”

His words fired her temper. “Yes, a woman must always be more careful. And more circumspect. And morebland.” She glared at her brother, hands on her hips. “She must always sit just so and act just so, and never indicate one iota of what she really thinks or feels, because—”

“Stop right there!”

Mr. Keane’s cry so startled her that she froze.

He leapt up to circle to the front of her. “Don’t move. That’s it. That’s the pose.” Dropping into the chair across from Edwin, he began sketching furiously. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“Because she’s being annoying as hell?” Edwin drawled.

“Because she’sfierce.” Mr. Keane’s gaze met hers. “Gloriously, intoxicatingly fierce.”

So was he, his eyes alight, his face wearing an artistic intensity as his pencil flew across the page.

Her pulse began to pound. “Oh, yes, paint me fierce. I like fierce.”

“Then stop smiling,” Mr. Keane chided. “Go back to how you looked before.”

As she tried to do so, Edwin let out an oath. “This isn’t the sort of image I had in mind for my sister.”

Mr. Keane didn’t even pause in his work. “I warned you there’s a reason I don’t do portraits. The sitters—or their families—never like how I portray them.”