An Invitation to Sin (17 page)

Caroline sat there for several minutes. Her thoughts refused to settle into anything cohesive, and mostly she just thanked God and her lucky stars for convincing Zachary Griffin to return. She'd certainly learned her lesson. From this moment on, she was going to remain polite, or remain silent. There wasn't going to be a third chance.

The door opened. "Everything settled?" her father asked, moving into her line of vision.

"He said he would sit for the portrait," she returned, still dazed. In the background the cacophony began again. Her sisters had discovered that Zachary had returned. And with that, another problem occurred to her. "I don't have much time, Papa. With the sketch pad ruined, I have to do at least one more preliminary drawing before I put paint to canvas." That was how it usually went, anyway. She would begin her painting based on a sketch. With Zachary, she'd felt she could draw him with her eyes closed, but the application was too important to risk by employing that questionable method.

"If I'd known what you'd scheduled for today, I never would have invited Zachary fishing." He sighed. "I tend to think, though, that your argument was bound to happen, regardless."

"I should have thought before I spoke. It was unpardonable, and I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"You spoke your mind. I've never found fault with your wits."

"What did you say to him, to convince him to return?"

"That's between him and me. Now. Which of your sisters made up that damned schedule for Zachary's time?"

"Anne."

"I'm revising it."

She looked over at him. "But—"

"You get that portrait painted, Caro. If you fail, it won't be because you didn't have the opportunity to try."

"Thank you, Papa."

"Mm hm. Go and change."

The second conversation gave her time to recover her feet and her balance, and she hurried upstairs to do as he bid. She didn't think there was an emotion she hadn't run through in the course of the day. Anticipation, anger, resignation, dread, frustration, fury, despondence, and suddenly hope.

When she returned downstairs to the dining room, everyone else had already seated themselves. For a moment she thought she might have to face more accusations and recriminations, but she might as well have been a tree stump for all the attention anyone paid her. Every pair of eyes was focused on Zachary, who'd apparently become even more handsome and gallant than he'd been a few scant hours before. Grateful as she was, the fawning and twittering began to make her head ache.

Zachary, however, smiled through it all. If she hadn't become so accustomed to reading and deciphering his expression, she would have thought him completely at ease, entirely the old Zachary. But she saw the coolness behind his eyes, the slight delay before he smiled or laughed. And if her sisters kept pushing their nonsense at him, she didn't know how long he would sit for it without pushing back.

Halfway through dinner, her father tapped his wineglass. "I have an announcement," he said. "Beginning in the morning and for however long it takes for Caroline to complete her portrait, the rest of you girls will leave her and Lord Zachary alone."

"But Papa, we have a sched—"

"Alone," he repeated with the same rare force in his voice she'd heard earlier. She and Zachary weren't the only two who took what had happened very seriously. "You may pester him as much as he can stand during luncheons and dinners and in the evenings, but while there's light to paint by, you will make yourselves scarce."

"Yes, Papa," Anne said, nudging Grace. After a ripple of nudges around the table, all of her sisters agreed.

"Actually," Zachary said, "tonight I promised to sit again for Caroline so she can replace some of her ruined drawings, and then I will be training Harold. And I need a word in private with my aunt."

Caroline heard the unaccustomed seriousness in his voice, but she wasn't certain whether anyone else did. They were all still so wrapped up in the misery of being Zachary-deprived and the joy of his return that she doubted they would notice the roof caving in. "Is there something I might do to help?" she asked.

Cool gray eyes looked at her. "Will you give me twenty minutes?"

"Of course."

"Very well." Setting his napkin on the table, he pushed his chair back. "If you'll excuse me? And my compliments to the cook on the trout. The most excellent I've ever tasted."

After a second's hesitation, Lady Gladys followed suit. "I'll see you in the morning, girls, Mr. Witfeld."

"Good evening, Gladys," Sally Witfeld returned.

"Good evening," Caroline echoed more quietly. It was going to be a very long night.

"We're not planning a midnight escape, are we?" Aunt Tremaine said, taking a seat in her usual chair beneath the window and propping her swollen foot up on a pillowed footstool. She'd summoned tea, and she had the feeling she would be requesting something stronger by the time she and Zachary were finished with whatever was on his mind.

"Did you hear anything of the argument between myself and Caroline?" he asked, beginning a slow pacing across the wooden floor.

"I mostly heard hysterics and something about fertilizer," she returned. "I retreated after that."

She expected his usual smile, but his expression remained quiet and very serious. "Do you believe that I'll join the army?"

"Not if Melbourne has anything to say about it."

He slowed, glancing at her before he continued pacing. "As I see things, the lot of you figured Melbourne wouldn't have to do a damned thing. You'd keep me out of London for a month or two, provide me a different setting, and eventually I'd forget my plans or find something else to occupy me." He paused. "Am I wrong?"

A few weeks ago she would have said something witty and distracting and changed the subject. This was a different Zachary than she was accustomed to, however. And she sensed that this one seriously wanted to hear the truth. And even more, that he was prepared to hear the truth. "No, you're not wrong. My gout is real, but it provided an opportunity which your brother and I discussed."

Zachary nodded, his thoughtful expression unchanged. "I'd like to stay here through the end of the month."

She tried not to let her surprise show. After all, three hours ago he'd been so eager to leave that he'd been willing to leave her behind. "Zachary, whatever Caro said, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to regret. You are a fine young man. You're well-liked, kind, charm—"

"I know I am," he interrupted, briefly grimacing. "That's my role in the family."

"Beg pardon?"

"You know. Sebastian's the humorless, unsmiling one, Charlemagne's the stubborn, ambitious one, Nell's the rebellious, clever one, and I'm the easygoing, charming one."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"It's not very challenging as far as life's ambitions go," he said, a touch of his usual humor entering his voice. "I want to be interested in and passionate about something, Aunt. And I have no idea what that might be."

"You're four-and-twenty, Zachary. You're not required to have all the answers yet."

"But you didn't argue about my assessment of myself either, did you?"

"I thought your statement was rhetorical."

A footman knocked with the tea, and Zachary retrieved the tray and placed it at her elbow. "Rhetorical or not, I'm as tired as anyone else of the way I find a project and then abandon it. I thought the army…" Trailing off, he sank onto the edge of her bed. "And I was wrong. So now I'm abandoning another one."

"At least you realized before you did any damage." She carefully kept her voice level, despite the abrupt desire to shout with joy,
Thank God
.

"Do me a favor and don't tell Melbourne. When I'm ready, I'll inform His Holiness myself."

"Zachary, this is nothing to feel badly about. You have a great many interests, and if you haven't yet decided which one intrigues you the most, there's nothing wrong with that. At least you have the luxury of time to discover what moves you, my dear."

He shook his head, obviously not happy with her answer. "That remains to be seen."

"Zach—"

"I do know one thing," he cut in. "I'm going to do whatever I can to see that Caroline gets that portrait finished and sent to Vienna before her deadline."

"That's very admirable."

"Yes, well, I have a dog to train, too." He tilted his head at her. "You're certain you don't mind staying in Wiltshire?"

Even if she did, she wasn't about to tell him so. Her gout, never as serious as she'd let on, was beginning to subside, but it still sufficed as an excuse. "Not a bit. It's a nice change, being in a household full of females."

"Very well." Zachary leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm going to go pose for some replacement drawings."

As he left, Gladys sat back and poured her tea. Well. She was glad she'd made an early evening of it. This new, more contemplative Zachary wasn't the only one who had some thinking to do.

The idea still made her nervous. She hadn't slept much at all the previous night, but she had dreamed just long enough to wake up with the solution to the problem with Zachary's portrait, which had troubled her from the beginning. Or she hoped she'd found the solution; she would have to see him first.

"I didn't know what you wanted me to wear," Zachary said, entering the room five minutes before their appointed time and half closing the door behind him. Her maid, Molly, waited just outside, close enough to lend propriety—though she hadn't yet helped much in that area—and far enough away that her mumbling and snoring wouldn't disturb the creative process. "I brought three coats and waistcoats. Which do you prefer?" He hefted them in his arms.

She drew a slow breath, very aware both that the air between them still wasn't easy and that the full, lifting sensation in her chest she always seemed to feel in his presence was stronger than ever.
My goodness
. "The dark gray," she said after a moment, willing herself to concentrate.

With a nod he shed the striped brown waistcoat he had on and dumped it onto the window seat. Again she wished she had the chance to paint him shirtless or even naked— especially after what she'd seen of him in the bathtub yesterday—but that would do her as little good at the Tannberg studio as a portrait of Lord and Lady Eades in powdered wigs, dressed as Romeo and Juliet. And when she next did a personal sketch of him, it would have to be completely from memory.

"How's that?" he asked, buttoning the dark gray waistcoat and shrugging into his lighter gray coat.

"Actually, would you mind leaving off your coat?"

He hesitated so briefly that she might have imagined it—but she didn't think she had. The air between them felt so… turbulent that she doubted he could avoid sensing it, as well. "Certainly," he replied. "Where do you want me?"

"I've been thinking," she said, hoping he wouldn't laugh—or, worse yet, refuse. "I'd like you to pose out by the ruins."

"The ruins?"

"Thanks to my father's pronouncement, my sisters won't be able to interfere, and you… suit out there. An adventurer in his natural habitat."

Zachary smiled briefly. "It's been several years since I went adventuring." Gazing out the window, he pulled his coat off again and slung it over one arm. "But I like the idea. What should I carry?"

"Oh. You… you don't need to help. I'll manage."

"Mm hm. Caroline, I did you a disservice yesterday. I won't be repeating my error. And if I could accept what you said yesterday, I doubt anything else you might say would injure me. Relax, my dear."

Caroline drew a deep breath. "I was too harsh."

"No, you weren't. A friend once told my brother that if you feel strongly enough about something to take action, for God's sake have the… strength of character not to apologize for it later."

She swallowed. "Very well."

Stopping very close to her, he slowly reached forward past her shoulder and picked up the canvas and tripod. She had the distinct sensation that he was smelling her hair, and goose bumps raised on her arms as he backed away again, tucking the monstrosity under his arm. "Lead the way," he said.

Whatever they'd said to one another yesterday, something had changed between them. It made her uneasy— because she liked the version of him that had appeared last night and again this morning. Very much.

"Like this?" Zachary asked, standing one foot up on the overturned faux Greek pillar.

"Perfect. Just turn your head a little more toward the pond… Yes. Like that."

"You're certain I don't look like some conqueror or something? Alexander the Great of Wiltshire?"

She gave her delicate, amused snort. He'd been waiting for the sound, and he smiled. According to his pride and his lineage, he should never have forgiven her for yesterday, should never have given leaving a second thought, should have been in Bath playing cards and drinking in a club right now.

And the Zachary that Melbourne knew would have fobbed Harold off on the first passerby he met. Instead, he'd spent three late hours demonstrating a patience he hadn't realized he owned, teaching Harold to sit on command. In the grand scheme of things it was undoubtedly trivial, but it meant something significant to him.

He'd thrice now deliberately gone out of his way to make clear to Caroline that he carried no grudge against her. And he knew precisely why. She'd not only said some rather sharp and insightful things but she'd also been right. Not just a little right—exactly, precisely, absolutely right.

His brothers called him a blockhead and joked about his aversion to responsibility, but they'd never called him useless. They wouldn't, he supposed; as far as family went, he wasn't useless to them. Melbourne kept his family close around him like so many precious gems, and he was part of the set. But for the rest of the world, and to himself, the outlook was considerably more grim. And he didn't like that one damned bit.

"You're frowning," she said, eyeing him critically. "Could you relax your face a little?"

"Apologies." He pasted the half-smile back on his face. "Are you sketching with pencil first?"

"I go back and forth. Even though I only have one complete drawing, thankfully I've sketched you enough now to be familiar with your features. Now I'm using pencil mostly for starting guidelines, since the light will be changing through the morning, and since I imagine you'll want to shift a little after a while."

"I shall remain a rock for as long as you require."

Her lips curved. "Yes, but this may take two days."

Which meant that if he hadn't been an idiot yesterday, she could be finishing up with his part of the posing today. "You'll still have enough time?"

"Yes."

He understood her expression, especially after her father's speech about how tight finances were in the Witfeld household. "I'll pay to help expedite delivery."

"That's not—"

"You're wasting daylight, Miss Witfeld. Paint me."

She worked in silence for a few moments, while he felt his mouth tightening again and worked to ease the expression. It wouldn't do her any good if she painted him looking like a madman, whether he actually resembled one or not.

"So you've seen the
Mona Lisa
and never been to Vienna," Caroline said as she glanced up at him in between pencil strokes. 'Tell me more of your travels."

It was one thing for him to feel ill at ease, he decided. It was quite another for him to appear that way. Zachary took a breath. "Food or art?" he returned. "According to my family I'm an expert in one and have no eye for the other."

"I find that difficult to believe of anyone who could appreciate the
Mona Lisa
enough to stand gazing at her for an hour. You journeyed to Greece, did you not?"

"I did. Saw both the Parthenon and the Erechtheion. The sense of age there is both uplifting and almost… oppressive."

She paused for a bare moment. "Why oppressive?"

"Perhaps that's the wrong word. Heavy." He began to shake his head, then stilled again. She was so easy to talk to. "I can't really explain it," he continued. "I know they're symbols of knowledge and culture, and yet for me, anyway, they left me feeling… small. Insignificant."

"A small bump on the road of mankind?"

This time he did turn his head to face her. "Are you insulting me again?"

Caroline blushed. "Heavens, no. It's just that when reading Aristotle and Plato and even Shakespeare, that's occasionally how I feel. I greatly appreciate their knowledge and their skill, but it forces me to look inward. I sometimes wonder what's inside me that could possibly equal any of that greatness."

He gazed at her for a long moment, until she motioned at him to move his head again. "That's it. Precisely. I tried to explain Greece to Shay, and he said I must have eaten some spoiled cheese."

"How hard did you try to explain it to him? Really?"

"Not very. Shay doesn't appreciate my affinity for art. He appreciates that I know where in London to find the best roast pheasant."

"There's no reason you can't demonstrate both, is there?"

Christ, she sounded like Melbourne during one of the duke's attempts to convince him to choose a goal and pursue it. Obviously she'd taken his admonishment about standing behind one's beliefs to mean that she should feel free to continue criticizing him. "I don't know," he answered. "I've never actually tried that."

Her mouth quirked. "I think you have. After all, I know about your opinion of the Parthenon
and
your knowledge of pheasant dinners."

And now a compliment. "Thank you for that, but it's not necessary."

During the conversation she set down the pencil and picked up a paintbrush. Zachary badly wanted to see what she was doing, but he had no intention of causing more delays. His leg, the one bearing most of his weight, began to ache from being held so rigidly, but he ignored it.

"You may take a turn about the clearing if you want to stretch," she finally said. "I can place you back in position."

Thank Lucifer
. He rolled his shoulders and lowered his left foot to the ground. "May I take a look?"

She nodded. 'There's not much to see yet, but if you'd like."

Caroline hadn't blushed at the idea of someone else looking over her shoulder, but he didn't expect her to; she was a professional, and rightly proud of her skills. Stretching, he strolled over behind her.

And there he stood, a pale outline of himself, one leg bent and resting on a pencil line, right hand on his thigh and the left in his pocket. He didn't have much of a head, though the general shape was there, and rough ovals where his eyes would be. His hair was painted, though, black with a gold tint of sunlight above his temple, and a swath of color marked the line of his shoulder and his straight leg.

Ruins stretched around him, with the edge of the pond in the background to his left, and a herd of pencil cattle over his right shoulder. "It looks like I'm the master of my domain," he commented. "Or your father's domain, rather."

"That's what I wanted. You have that air about you, of confidence and ease. Aristocracy."

Now he hoped
he
wasn't blushing. Interesting that Caroline saw his faults probably more clearly than he did, and yet the compliments she gave: They rather stunned him, as did the fact that she'd found something she admired about him at all, and the fact that she'd said it aloud. Zachary cleared his throat, turning his gaze on the pond and cattle background. One cow in particular caught his attention. "That's your father's special cow, isn't it? The one you named Dimidius."

"Yes. I thought Papa would appreciate me putting her in the portrait."

"Does she really give twice the milk a standard breed does?"

Caroline shrugged. "She seems to. A good quality, too. Fine cream and butter. I've never measured the exact quantity. She's good-natured, and likes apples." She turned to look at him, then set down her brush, reached up, and tugged a little at his cravat.

He looked down at her fingers curled against his chest. "I can summon my valet if you'd prefer a different knot."

"No. It's fine. I just want the ruffle to show a little more." She continued to smooth at his chest.

"Caroline?"

She looked up, meeting his gaze. "Hm?"

"There's something else about yesterday."

"What?"

"You caught my attention."

Zachary cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Her lips tasted like sweet strawberries. Across the clearing the maid napped, and with a sigh he deepened the kiss. Caroline leaned into him, sliding her hands up his shoulders and tousling his hair. Desire and arousal ran hot just under his skin—and for probably the first time in his life, he didn't give in to the sensation.

Instead he slowly and regretfully broke the embrace. "That was very sweet," he whispered.

"I'd like another anatomy lesson, Zachary," she breathed back.

Christ
. He kissed her again, harder. "And I'd like to give you one. After."

"After?"

"After you've finished the portrait and you don't have a reason to be kind or grateful to me."

Her cheeks colored. "That's very gentlemanly of you, Zachary," she said shakily, lowering her hand from his hair.

"No, it's not. But it is fair warning." He caught her hand before she could back away. "Don't get me wrong, Caroline. Unless you change your mind, I fully intend to take advantage of you. But I won't be blamed for more delays." Zachary smiled grimly, meaning it. "Besides, isn't there some saying about anticipation sweetening the taste of something or other?"