The Art of Love (7 page)

Tara glanced at Leo, whether Rodney meant anything by it or not she wasn’t going to play the high handed game of assuming Leo had nothing better to do with his time than be at their beck and call. But Leo simply looked at her, waiting for her answer. Absurdly Tara felt disappointed. Had she really expected him to protest wildly that next Tuesday was far too far away and that he must see her again tomorrow at the latest? Desperately she tried to squash down such imaginings before they could show on her face, but she feared from the sudden quirk of Leo’s eyebrows that she was too late.

‘Of course, next Tuesday will suit me perfectly,’ she said a little too firmly. She knew she must put Leo from her mind. She had nearly kissed him and now he was looking at her with no more than the polite interest that a craftsman showed a client. All that had nearly transpired must be in her imagination, she had to put him from her mind before she behaved scandalously and ruined her own reputation.

With no more than a nod to Leo she swept out, aware of Rodney hastily gathering up his parcel and following in her wake. She was also aware that Leo had done no more than collect up his brushes ready to clean them.

‘I have something for you.’ Rodney had handed her into the phaeton then joined her there, and Tara’s heart sank at his words as she looked at the large parcel which he now proffered. She had been so sure after Lord Carlshot’s ball that Rodney had set his sights elsewhere that she had relaxed, thinking herself quite safe, but apparently she was wrong.

‘You shouldn’t…’ she started to demure, but it was really too late, if she wanted Rodney to believe she wasn’t prepared to accept gifts from him she should never have agreed to have her portrait painted for him in the first place. He placed the parcel, light despite its size, on her lap and she realized it would be churlish to reject it now.

Trying to mask her lack of enthusiasm, Tara unwrapped his present, and despite her misgivings she could not restrain an exclamation of delight. He had given her a carriage hat, in cream muslin, trimmed with artificial marigolds and gold ribbon, it really was very pretty and she knew it would suit her beautifully. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you.

‘You’re welcome,’ Rodney looked very pleased with the success of his gift.

‘It is a very unexpected gift,’ Tara said, fishing. ‘I had no idea you had such good taste.’ Not subtle, but then neither was Rodney. She tied the bonnet on and let him admire it.

‘I had a little advice,’ Rodney said and she saw the faintest blush creep into his jaw just above his neck cloth.

‘Oh?’ she asked, and let the question linger as he gathered up the reins and gave the horses a flick.

‘I bumped into a… friend in Bond Street,’ Rodney said. ‘She happened to be looking at a milliner’s wares.’

Had he run into Lady Susannah? Tara fervently hoped so, yet if he had, surely he had not thought to impress her by buying a hat for another lady? She shook her head slightly; there must be more to it than that. Perhaps Lady Susannah had been accompanied by a gentleman, or was Rodney playing some elaborate game in which he hoped to make the object of his affections jealous - whichever of them that was. She let Rodney drive her in silence through the cobbled streets while she thought hard. She could not puzzle out what was going on but as the carriage drew to a stop in front of her house an obvious thought struck her. The best was to get Rodney to forget her was to give him an opportunity to get to know Lady Susannah better, and as soon as possible. Tara found herself smiling sunnily at Rodney as he helped her to alight; she knew just the way to do it.

Gentlemen, Tara knew, were inclined to rise late, take lunch either at home or at their clubs, and otherwise have no pressing engagements until at least mid-afternoon. After that everything they did got increasingly more important; they dined with a small group of friends, then went onto a ball, the theatre or other organised evening event and finally wound up the night somewhere rather more select where they played cards or pursued other leisure activities of their choice until they sky started to lighten. Then, the day well spent, they retired to their beds to fortify themselves for the morrow.

Accordingly at eleven o’clock the next morning she instructed her manservant, Bode, to take a note to Freddie expressing her desire to call on him after lunch that afternoon. Freddie was certain to be in to receive her message, she reflected, if not actually awake. She couldn’t help thinking of Leo though, she was sure he had been hard at work for hours - he seemed to set such store by the quality of the light and it was at its most brilliant in the morning. She suspected that he only saw clients in the afternoon in deference to their habits not his own. Somehow, despite seeing him at Lord Carlshot’s ball she could not imagine him letting his precious time trickle away by sleeping late the next morning, he was far too driven for that.

‘Did Mr Palmer send any answer?’ she asked Bode when he returned.

‘Not as such, my lady,’ Bode said. ‘But his gentleman’s gentleman gave me to understand that your visit would be most welcome.’

After lunch she set off for Freddie’s. ‘My dear Tara,’ he said, kissing her hand as she was shown into his drawing room. ‘Would you care for a glass of wine?’ Tara was about to say it was a little early in the day for her when it occurred to her that if she declined Freddie would have to also, and abstinence was not perhaps the best of conditions under which to ask a favour.

She smiled up at him. ‘That would be delightful.’ With alacrity Freddie poured glasses for them both and seeing the relish with which he tasted his own wine, Tara knew that she had made the right decision. ‘I have a tremendous favour to ask you,’ she said as he joined her on the sofa.

‘Oh?’ Freddie said and she was glad to see that he looked interested rather than worried.

‘I was hoping that you might hold a little supper party and invite Sir Rodney and Lady Susannah Maxwell.’

‘So that’s the way you want the wind to blow,’ Freddie said with a chuckle which Tara found she could not begrudge him, his eyes were twinkling and she had a feeling he was going to acquiesce. She nodded demurely, but glanced up at him so that their eyes met, letting him see how well he had read her. ‘Is there anyone else you would like me to invite to this little soiree?’ Freddie asked.

‘Philippe La Monte?’ Tara suggested, ‘and anyone who might wish to marry him.’

Freddie laughed out loud. ‘That could be a tall order.’

‘Philippe is charming,’ Tara protested. She had no desire to marry him herself, but he was attractive, witty, and generally a good companion.

‘Oh, very charming,’ Freddie said. ‘The fellow’s likeable enough, I’ll grant you that. But that is all he is. No family, no money, who’s going to look at him?’

‘Surely not every girl in London is only interested in connections or riches,’ Tara said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. ‘I am not.’

‘No,’ Freddie agreed, ‘but you haven’t set your cap at him. He’d snap you up, you know.’

‘I don’t wish to marry anyone at present,’ Tara said haughtily. ‘It is not Philippe in particular whom I am avoiding.’

‘All right, all right,’ Freddie said. ‘Truce. I’ll invite La Monte and I’ll see if I can find someone as highly principled as yourself for him. Now when shall we hold this little get together?’

‘We?’ Tara echoed. ‘I had not thought to be there.’

‘But you must!’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘You must act as hostess. Think about it, how better to persuade Rodney that you’re a lost cause than to imply that you have an understanding with me. It’ll be fun.’

Tara looked at him suspiciously. Freddie looked quite taken with his scheme. But was it just boyish delight at the idea of playing a joke on a friend, or did he have deeper intentions? She considered Freddie for a moment, although not terribly tall and destined to be plump as he grew older, Freddie was still quite handsome, and she had enjoyed his friendship ever since they had met at the very first ball of her debutante season. But his heart was given to gambling and although she moved on the fringes of his world, she had no desire to make it her own. Surely he was not getting ideas about her, she thought hopefully, after all she had just made her thoughts on marriage explicitly clear, but she could not shift her feeling of unease and as soon as they had agreed the date for the dinner party, she departed.

The next day Leo received an invitation scrawled in Freddie’s uneven handwriting, asking him to a dinner party on Sunday evening. His first thought was to refuse, he couldn’t see the point of dinner parties, one didn’t get to chat with one’s friends and he was invariably seated between two young ladies who didn’t have enough conversation between them to interest a rabbit. Then he thought about Tara. Somehow an invitation from the man at whose house he had first seen her seemed more than coincidental. Idly he pencilled her profile on the edge of the card while he considered. He could not quite fathom what game she was playing with him, he could tell she was attracted to him, the way her eyes shone and her lips parted whenever he managed to accidentally touch her confirmed it, not to mention the tautening if her nipples, just discernible through the smooth silk of her dress. The thought of that warmed him and made him wonder for the hundredth time what would have happened if Rodney had not chosen to return when he did. But he could tell Tara considered him no better than a tradesman and saw herself as being far out of his reach. Briefly he considered letting her know he was titled, if no longer landed, but dismissed the notion impatiently. He was a craftsman now, skilled and respected, remaking his fortune in his own way; he would not resort to using his title to impress a lady. Besides he was seeking neither mistress nor wife, he had no need to impress Lady Tara. But he longed to take her in his arms and kiss her.

He glanced back at the invitation. He had drawn his own profile on the other edge of the card, looking at Tara’s, the pencilled eyes of both faces locked together across the writing, holding each other without touching, as he had held Tara for two long afternoons in his studio already. He put the card face down on his work table, ready to use as a blotter and picked it up again almost immediately. Tara intrigued him too much, despite her apparent dismissal of him. He would go to Freddie’s dinner party where she was sure to be, and see what happened next.

‘Lady Susannah,’ Freddie said expansively, gesturing with his wine glass, ‘may I introduce my friend Lady Tara. Tara, I’m sure you must have seen Lady Susannah at Carlshot’s ball, she was quite the loveliest thing there.’

‘Very true,’ Tara said, hoping that the laughter threatening to escape her would simply appear as a smile of welcome on her lips. Lady Susannah was perfectly pretty, but Rodney was standing just a few feet away. She knew Freddie’s extravagant praise was for his benefit and she had to admire Freddie’s cunning, there was nothing like the regard of another man to make a woman appear more desirable.

‘It’s very nice to meet you, Lady Tara,’ Susannah said meekly and Tara thought how much better a quiet and biddable wife would suit Rodney than she would herself. ‘This is my brother Earnest and my aunt Claire.’

The gentleman at her side gave Tara a quick bow and out of the corner of her eye she saw Rodney suddenly turn towards the little party with a smile on his face.

‘Lady Susannah, how delightful to see you again, and your brother of course. I don’t believe we were properly introduced the other day. I am Sir Rodney Hulme. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ So she had been right. Tara suppressed the little grin she felt trying to steal its way onto her face. Rodney had met Susannah in Bond Street accompanied by her brother and had assumed the worst. She caught Freddie’s eye.

‘Is everyone here?’ she asked. ‘Is it time to move through to the dining room?’

‘Not quite,’ Freddie said enigmatically. ‘I am expecting one more guest.’

‘Is it the lady for Philippe? Oh, no, that must be her, the pretty girl with the golden hair.’

‘Certainly not,’ said Freddie reprovingly. ‘That is my cousin Antonia. She can do far better than a penniless frog.’

‘Then who do you have in mind?’ Tara asked, deciding to ignore the insult to Philippe, after all it was a fairly accurate description. But secretly she thought Philippe and Antonia Palmer might do quite well together. 'Is it your mystery guest?’

Freddie shook his head and moved closer to her, lowering his voice. ‘No, no, no. I invited Lady Susannah’s aunt, Claire, for La Monte. As a member of the Maxwell family she is worth a considerable sum per annum, but as you can see for yourself she is on the plain side. She has done too many London seasons without making a match and she is on the verge of being dubbed a spinster by the
ton
. La Monte can be sure his offer will not be refused.’

‘You can’t possibly think to match Philippe with her!’ Tara exclaimed.

‘Shush, shush, not so loud,’ Freddie said.

‘She is far too dull and unexciting. Philippe would never be happy with a woman like that.’

‘Then you will have to take him up yourself.’ Tara was about to make a sharp retort when she saw the look in Freddie’s eye and realized he was teasing her.

‘Oh, you are quite incorrigible!’ she exclaimed.

‘Lavishing such compliments will get you into trouble one of these days,’ a heart-warmingly familiar voice said in her ear. Tara spun to face Leo. Perhaps because she had not even imagined he would be invited, she had not looked up when the last guest was shown into the room and she found herself completely taken by surprise.

‘Glad you could make it, Fosse,’ Freddie said, shaking his hand while Tara stood by, momentarily at a loss for words. Of course she had seen Leo dressed up before, at Lord Carlshot’s ball only last week, only there she had somehow assumed he was making connections and looking for business. But here he was in a private drawing room, where he could be doing no such thing, looking completely at home, every inch a gentleman, and he took her breath away. ‘Have you met Lady Tara?’ Freddie went on.

Leo looked at her from head to toe and Tara felt a wave of heat run through her. ‘I am painting her at the moment,’ he said, making it sound the most intimate thing in the world. Perhaps, Tara wondered wildly, it was, Leo had certainly looked at her for longer and more lingeringly than any other man and he knew every inch of her form, albeit most of it clothed, but she had a sudden conviction that he could paint a devastatingly accurate picture of her nude if he so desired.