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Authors: Lilac Lacey

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BOOK: The Art of Love
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She was suddenly aware that she hadn’t spoken a word since Leo had addressed her. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here tonight…’ she forced herself to say, and let the sentence linger, unsure what to call him. By rights she should address him by his last name as Freddie did, but after the closeness they had shared in his studio it seemed far too formal. Yet he had not invited her to call him Leo, although that was how she always thought of him.

‘Everyone’s here now,’ Freddie said, turning to the company at large. ‘Please come through to dinner.’ He began shepherding guests through the double doors of the drawing room, into the dining room beyond.

‘Whereas I thought you might be present,’ Leo said, answering her comment.

Was that why he was here? For one wild moment Tara’s heart leapt with hope, but then she remembered how distant he had been when they had last parted, and come to think about it he had barely greeted her now. He had not taken her hand and kissed it as most of the men she knew would have, he had not even bowed, all he had done was apprise Freddie of their business relationship.

‘Are you a friend of Freddie’s?’ she asked, trying to place him in this new context of the world of society.

‘You might say that.’ His answer didn’t tell her much. She glanced at the other guests retreating into the dining room. They were going to be ten at dinner, five women and five men.

‘Did Freddie invite you to make up the numbers?’ she goaded him, trying to get a reaction. It worked, but not in the way in which she had hoped.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. ‘That must have been the reason,’ he drawled, and she could not tell if he was angry or if he were mocking her. She was about to retort Freddie would never be so gauche when she realized that even if he wasn’t angry with her, she was annoyed with him. It wouldn’t hurt him to be a little more forthcoming, and as he hadn’t been he must accept that she might jump to the wrong conclusions.

Freddie popped his head out of the dining room. ‘We’re just sitting down for soup,’ he said. ‘Are you two going to join us?’

‘Of course,’ Leo said, smiling at Freddie as if he were his best friend, and for all she knew, Tara reflected, he might be. ‘Lady Tara?’ Leo said, turning to her and offering her his arm, every inch a gentleman again, presumably for Freddie’s benefit.

Tara found she had no choice but to let him escort her the few short steps to the dining table, but as soon as his hand closed over hers she felt her anger drown in her sudden heightened awareness of Leo’s masculinity. He was so strong, with his painter’s hands, used every day for both arduous and delicate work, and he held her firmly as if she belonged by his side and no matter what they said to each other he planned to keep her there because the mere words meant nothing, and all that mattered was the irrefutable attraction between them. But other than by being who he was he had not encouraged her. She knew she must put all thoughts of him aside; it would be intolerable if he thought she was flirting with him despite the distance his words had put between them.
He’s a craftsman
, she told herself,
practically a tradesman
, it would embarrass them both if he thought she was taking a particular interest in him.

As unofficial hostess Tara found herself seated at the foot of the table, while Freddie was at its head. Belatedly it occurred to her that she would have had more chance of being indifferent to Leo, who was seated to her right, if Freddie had been on hand to flirt with. She would have to make do with Philippe on her left, she decided, and turned her attentions towards him.

‘My dear Philippe, how have you been occupying your time since last I saw you? At Lord Carlshot’s ball I believe it was.’

Philippe gave her a mournful grin. ‘Time hangs heavy on my hands,’ he said, ‘I have been to only one card party since then, and to the theatre only once, and even then I had to sit in the stalls.’ He shook himself with mock distaste and Tara laughed. ‘I can still find no club that will admit me.’

Beside her Leo paused with his soup spoon half way to his mouth. ‘Why will no club admit you, sir?’ he asked, plainly puzzled.

‘It is the dues, monsieur,’ Philippe said. ‘Each club demands rather more than I am prepared to pay. Even the United Service Club will not have me.’

‘But Philippe,
ma coeur
, you’ve never been any kind of soldier!’ Tara exclaimed.

Philippe turned his wide eyes upon her. ‘Such prejudice,’ he said sadly, ‘even from men who have travelled.’

Tara burst out laughing, but Leo seemed less than impressed. Rather pointedly, she thought, he turned to the lady on his right. It was Antonia, Freddie’s pretty cousin and Tara felt a hot wave of jealousy run through her, the like of which she had never experienced before. It took all her conversation away and it was as much as she could do to continue to spoon up her soup in an ordinary fashion.

‘So we meet again,’ Leo said gently, smiling at the lady. He knew her! Was this the reason Freddie had invited Leo, to further his chances with his cousin? Surely not? If Freddie thought Antonia could do better than a displaced French aristocrat then he would hardly consider a painter an appropriate match for a member of his family.

‘I have been very busy,’ Antonia said ingenuously, smiling shyly up at him.
Be timid
, Tara found herself willing the girl,
be too quiet and mouse-like to interest him
. ‘I have visited the Dulwich Picture Gallery which presently is showing a fine collection of landscapes by Constable, and I went to the British Museum. I was particularly taken with the Elgin marbles although I am not usually drawn to sculpture. What do you think of them?’

Tara suppressed and inward groan. She had seen the Elgin marbles of course, two years ago when they were brought over. Everybody had, and that was the only reason she had gone to look at them. The same was true of the Royal Academy’s summer exhibition, it was a place to see and be seen and she went every year. Otherwise she took no real interest in art, paintings were simply things to ornament the walls of people’s houses. It could be amusing to see from which ancestors her friends had acquired their looks, and painting were useful for covering up unexpected damp spots on the walls, but that was it as far as she was concerned. She could see immediately how conversation with Antonia would be far more rewarding for Leo than conversation with herself and she resolved to visit the Dulwich Gallery first thing in the morning. Then she too would be able to discuss the merits of Constable with Leo at her final sitting on Tuesday.

By the time the main course of roasted fowl accompanied by potatoes and carrots in an odd sort of garnish, which suggested that Freddie’s cook had been given a free rein to experiment, arrived, Tara had sourly concluded that Leo and Antonia had far too much in common. As well as a love of art it appeared that they were both enthusiastic riders and that each liked to travel and explore new places. How much travelling could an eighteen year old girl just out of the schoolroom have done? Tara wondered cynically and suspected Antonia was making much of the locations of a variety of educational establishments which she had attended.

This would never do, Philippe on her left seemed quite as entranced with Antonia as Leo was and was completely ignoring the eligible, spinsterish Miss Claire Maxwell. Obviously he could see that Antonia would be perfect for him and she could not permit Leo to ruin Philippe’s chances any longer. She decided it was time for her to take control of the conversation.

‘Philippe has travelled,’ she said pointedly to Antonia, ‘and in a most exciting way.’ She dropped her voice to add melodrama. ‘He had to flee the French revolution, his story is quite amazing.’ She only had a hazy idea of Philippe’s story; it wasn’t done to cross-examine the persecuted émigrés over the terror. But whether he had made a daring escape from the Bastille or simply turned tail and fled the moment things became uncomfortable for the aristocracy, she was confident of Philippe’s ability to turn such an opening to his advantage and enthral Antonia with a riveting tale.

‘I couldn’t speak of it,’ Philippe said and Tara saw that his eyes were alight with the possibilities of the opportunity she had afforded him.

‘Oh, please, sir, you are too modest,’ Antonia said, gazing at Philippe. Tara noted that she had judged correctly, Antonia was just a girl, newly out of school, and quite as ready as any child to be entertained by stories of adventure.

‘It all began on a spring night in Paris,’ Philippe began. ‘Paris is the most beautiful city in the world and she is at her most beautiful in springtime…’ and he proceeded to spin a story so full of dangerous men and daring escapes that Tara was left in no doubt that it was a complete fabrication. But it did not matter, Antonia hung on his every word, right until the end of the summer pudding and Leo was ignored.

Leo, however, seemed quite unperturbed by the slight, instead he seemed to take as keen an interest in Philippe’s story as Antonia, interrupting frequently to ask questions.

‘That is very enlightening,’ he said at one point, ‘I didn’t realize the King’s musketeers were still in existence. But obviously they are and it is very impressive to hear that you bested five of them.’ Philippe fleetingly narrowed his eyes at Leo then moved swiftly on with his story.

Tara grabbed Leo’s upper arm as they rose at the end of the meal. ‘Stop it,’ she hissed in his ear.
He turned back to her slowly and she had the feeling he had no desire to break free of her hold. ‘Stop what?’ he asked languidly.
‘Oh, you know exactly what I mean. Stop trying to poke holes in Philippe’s story.’

Leo gave a chuckle that turned to outright laughter as their eyes met. ‘Holes!’ he said. ‘You know as well as I that tale was as elaborate a piece of lacework that ever came out of France from start to finish. I simply gave him the opportunity to further embellish it.’

‘You needn’t have made it so obvious,’ Tara said crossly. The other guests were drifting back into the drawing room, where no doubt Freddie had had card tables set up during dinner. Antonia, she was pleased to see, was being escorted back by Philippe. ‘If Miss Palmer weren’t so gullible you’d have ruined Philippe’s chances with her.’

‘She is very naive,’ Leo said thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it is my duty to relieve her of her innocent incredulity - before she makes any rash decisions.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Tara said, quite incensed at his proposed perfidy. ‘Poor Philippe has been through so much and he needs to marry well. But he is so entertaining and charming that there is no reason he should settle for some rich old spinster whom nobody else wants. He needs someone lively, young and wealthy. Antonia Palmer would suit him perfectly.’

‘Ah, but would he suit her?’ Leo asked. ‘He is obviously completely broke and he is taking no steps to remedy that other than try to catch himself a rich wife.’

‘What else would you have him do?’ Tara demanded. ‘He can hardly hire himself out as a lamplighter for the parish of Westminster.’

‘But that is exactly what he could do,’ Leo said, catching her free hand and drawing her round so they were looking straight into each other’s eyes. ‘He could do that or any other honest job, shop assistant, fishing hand, farm labourer. He’s strong and healthy, there is nothing to stop him earning his own living, nothing at all. But he’s been here what, four or five years? He was very vague on dates in his story, and he has done nothing to improve his position except hanker after heiresses, all of whom so far, thank goodness, have had enough sense to steer clear of a shameless gold-digger.’

Tara wrenched herself apart from Leo. ‘How dare you insult my friend!’ she exclaimed. ‘Philippe is not a gold-digger, he simply wants to reclaim his rightful position in society.’

Leo’s eyes glittered dangerously. ‘If he is so eligible why haven’t you married him?’ Tara was caught completely off guard, coming from Leo the question was so entirely unexpected. Leo must have seen her surprise for he pressed his advantage. ‘You flirted with him during dinner, some might say you led him on. Perhaps for all your talk you secretly don’t want him to look at other women.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Tara snapped, struggling to regain her composure. ‘Philippe and I could never be more than friends and I am perfectly sure he knows that.’

‘But why not?’ Leo demanded. ‘Isn’t a poverty-stricken refugee good enough for you? You said he was delightful and charming. Could it be that you along with all the other women of the
ton
regard position and wealth as an essential a quality in a man as a compatible personality?’

‘Of course not!’ Tara said before she could think about it and then felt the colour rise in her cheeks as she wondered if she did. Was that why she was so sure she should make an effort to convince Leo she had no interest in himself? Did she think an artist was not good enough for her? Angrily she pushed the thought away. ‘Philippe could never be a farm labourer,’ she said, hoping to distract him. ‘He is far too refined, he would never be happy in such an occupation.’

It worked. ‘He could write, or act,’ Leo suggested impatiently. ‘He has amply demonstrated his ability in both those areas tonight.’ Then when Tara remained stubbornly silent he added ‘Look at me, I took up painting.’

It was as if a puzzle piece suddenly righted itself in her mind. She didn’t have the whole picture, but all at once something about Leo made a little bit more sense. ‘What do you mean?’ Tara asked. Leo was tall and powerfully built, he didn’t look as though he would balk at farm labour, and he clearly wasn’t French, yet he had compared something in his own situation to that of Philippe.

‘Nothing,’ Leo said brusquely. ‘Look, the others are waiting for us to make up sets for cards.’

‘Did you…’ Tara wasn’t even sure what she had intended to ask, but Leo took her arm again and inexorably propelled her into the drawing room. She couldn’t ask him anything about himself in front of the other guests; it was clear he was hiding something but she was equally sure that he would deflect all her enquiries should she be indiscreet enough to make any here. Besides, much as she wanted to know what Leo wished to conceal she had no desire to make his secret public knowledge. She would have to wait for her final portrait sitting and try to get it out of him then.

BOOK: The Art of Love
10.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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