Page 99 of The Art of Sinning

With a shrug, she let the two men usher her down the steps so they could stroll along the path leading into the woods. Although the men flanked her, it was Jeremy she was conscious of. She fancied she could feel his gaze scrutinizing her, feel his heat emanating toward her. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea.

Unless... “So,” she said brightly, “if I’m to marry you, Mr. Keane, how would we live? For that matter,wherewould we live?”

Edwin stiffened. “Perhaps it would be better if I went over to—”

“No, indeed,” she cut in. “These are questionsyouas my guardian should have asked.”

To her surprise, Jeremy laughed. “She’s got you there, Blakeborough.” He stared warmly down at her. “We’ll live in London or somewhere close. You can choose the house. I don’t really care where.”

“As long as it’s near the bawdy houses, right?” she quipped.

“Yvette,” Edwin ventured, “he says he only goes to the brothels to find models.”

She ignored her brother, her eyes fixed on Jeremy. “I know what he says. But they’re still brothels.”

Jeremy’s eyes gleamed at her. “Once we marry, the only female model I’ll need is you.”

The words were so unexpectedly sweet that her throat tightened. “So all your paintings will be of dark-haired Amazonian females?” she said archly.

“Junoesque,” he corrected her. “Beautiful, Juno­esque females with clover-green eyes and porcelain skin and imperious posture.” He punctuated the husky words by gliding his gaze down her in a slow perusal that set every part of her on fire.

Curse him. He was too good at this. “And what about your family?” she asked, to put the shoe on the other foot.

“Oh,” he said blandly, “I don’t think they’d enjoy modeling for my paintings at all.”

She eyed him askance. “I mean, what about the fact that they live in America? Surely you’ll want to visit from time to time. Will you take me with you?”

A shadow crossed his face. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said noncommittally.

“Because if you ever intend to return there to live—”

“I don’t.” His expression was cold. “I can’t.”

Why?she wanted to ask. If he hadn’t loved his wife, why was seeing the site of the woman’s death so painful? But she couldn’t ask that in front of Edwin. She didn’t feel right revealing the intimate details of Jeremy’s past without his permission.

She took another tack. “You still haven’t saidhowyou intend for us to live.”

That made him smile. “Are you fishing for information regarding my finances, Lady Yvette? Because that is usually handled in the settlement arrangements. But if you insist upon discussing it here, I can assure you—”

“Ah, look!” Edwin cried, pointing to a speck at the top of the hill opposite the woods. “It’s our gamekeeper. I’ve been meaning to speak to him regarding the... the...”

“Snipe?” Jeremy supplied helpfully.

“The snipe, yes.” And before Yvette could stop him, her brother was stalking away from them toward the speck he claimed was their gamekeeper.

The moment he was out of hearing, Jeremy chuckled and offered her his arm. “You should have known better than to involve Blakeborough in our quarrel, sweetheart. He doesn’t like quarrels. Or being in the middle. Or parrying your dizzying array of thrusts.”

She glared at his arm. “We’ll see about that.”

When she started after her brother, Jeremy caught her about the waist and tugged her back onto the path. “Leave him be. This is between us, and you know it.” He challenged her with a thin smile. “Unless you’re afraid you can’t handle me by yourself.”

Drat the man. He was daring her again. She should tell him to go to the devil.

She didn’t. “Fine,” she said, and marched into the park.

For a short while, he just followed at a leisurely pace as she barreled along the graveled path in an attempt to vent her temper. But when they came to the picturesque bridge over the stream that separated their land from that of Clarissa’s family, Jeremy put a hand on her arm to halt her.

“This looks like a nice spot for our discussion,” he said quietly.