The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress (18 page)

“It’s unique,” he said at last.

“It is at that.” She laughed. “When Jean-Philippe visited yesterday he showed me two works. One was a portrait, nicely done and quite realistic. He says one has to do what one must to pay one’s bills. The second was the same woman painted in this style. He paints portraits to make a living. This . . .” She nodded at the painting. “This is the work of his soul. This is where his passion is.”

Cam nodded. “And this is what you wanted?”

“What I wanted was to cross off Great-aunt Lucinda’s desire to be painted without clothing. But I am not stupid, Cameron.”

“I never thought you were.”

“I realize the dangers inherent in pursuing this quest of mine. I have no desire for scandal to ruin the rest of my life. You’ve said nothing on that topic that I have not thought of myself.”

“Again, my apologies for not giving you the credit due you.”

“Now
that
was sincere.” She smiled and returned her gaze to the canvas. “In her journal, Lucinda thought it would be a great adventure to be immortalized forever as art as long as one’s features were suitably disguised.”

“That you have achieved.”

“And better yet, I like it, very much.” She considered it thoughtfully. “It strikes me as, oh, I don’t know, pure emotion if you will, captured in color and movement. A fanciful idea, I suppose.”

“Not at all.” The more he studied the work, the more it called to him. “It strikes me in much the same way. It’s all light and shadow, variations of hues and shades and makes no sense when examined too closely. But step back and you get a, well, an impression of something remarkable.”

She raised a brow. “Then you do like it?”

“God help me, I do.” He grinned. “So.” He adopted a casual manner. “Now that you can cross this off your list, what do you plan next?”

“I have been giving that, and you, a great deal of thought.” She stepped away from the painting and drifted aimlessly along the path encircling the palm.

“You have been giving me a great deal of thought?” He wasn’t sure if that was good or very bad.

“I have.” She nodded. “While I have acknowledged that you cannot help your attitude when it comes to women, because we are so weak and fragile and lacking in intelligence.”

“I never said—”

She pinned him with a hard look.

It was no use arguing with her, especially when she was more than a little right. He sighed. “I did come to apologize.”

“And?”

“And, well, apparently, I will have to continue to apologize.”

“Will you?”

“You said it yourself—it’s in my nature. Because as much as you don’t think you need someone to watch over you, I am certain you do. Which reminds me.” He glanced around the conservatory. “Where is Albert? I expected him to be nipping at my heels the moment I stepped foot in here.”

She sighed. “He doesn’t seem to like Jean-Philippe, so he’s confined to my rooms for now.”

“Good dog,” he murmured. “And where is your cohort in scandal?”

“If you mean Miss West, she was here until shortly before you arrived. Then I sent her off on an errand.”

“Dare I ask what kind of errand?”

“You can ask, but half the fun of any adventure is the element of surprise,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

He ignored her. “What I’m attempting to say is that I suspect I will continue to annoy you because, in what I believe is your best interest, I will continue to try to make you see reason when it comes to these regrets of your great-aunt’s. And I shall do so in my arrogant, high-handed manner.”

“I expect nothing less.” She leaned over to inspect a large tropical blossom. A hibiscus, he thought.

“You may throw me out as many times as you want but I shall continue to return.”

She nodded. “Because it’s your job.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh?” She moved to another plant and rubbed a velvety leaf between two fingers.

He trailed after her. “And because we’ve become friends.”

“There is that,” she said under her breath, and continued to wander slowly from one plant to the next, making her way around the palm in the center of the room.

“And because, well, I . . . I like you.”

She smiled.

He drew a deep breath. “I like you a great deal, Lucy.”

She bent to take a sniff of an elegant blossom he couldn’t identify. “Go on”

He could use a little encouragement but apparently that was not going to happen. “It’s because I like you that I think this course you’re set upon is . . . well, you know my thoughts on that.”

“Indeed I do.”

“I want only the best for you.” The oddest note of desperation sounded in his voice. “If you have any feelings for me—”

“Feelings?” Lucy straightened, her eyes wide.

He grimaced. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t—”

“No, no, it’s quite all right.” She waved off his apology. “I was simply surprised, that’s all.” She moved to the chaise and sank down onto it, casting him a weak smile. “Actually, this is exactly what I was thinking about. Well, not exactly this, but something like this. Or perhaps not at all. Although—”

Good Lord, the woman was babbling. He’d never seen her babble before. It was rather endearing. Obviously, she was taken aback by his comment.

“—somewhat, I think. Your wanting what’s best, that is. And the truly charming, if overbearing, compulsion you have to make certain I am, well, protected, I suppose. Of course, some of that is your job but”—she drew a steadying breath—“at this point, it appears there is only one sensible thing to do.”

“You’ll give up this absurd quest?” Had the woman at last come to her senses?

She stared at him. “Two things then.”

He narrowed his eyes and sat on the chaise beside her. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“If you’re so concerned about what sort of mischief I might become embroiled in, perhaps you should help me accomplish the items on my list rather than leaving me to my own devices.” She smiled in an innocent manner, but a note of triumph rang in her voice.

“Help you?” He stared for a long moment. He was right. She did have a diabolical mind. “You want me to assist you to do what I don’t think you should be doing at all?”

“I thought it was a brilliant idea.”

“
Brilliant
isn’t the word I would use.” Still, it was not a bad idea. If he was the one to plan how to accomplish the remaining items on her list, she certainly couldn’t go off on these little adventures without him. It would, in fact, make his life easier.

“Unless of course, you’d prefer not to.” She shrugged “Or you’re not up to the task.”

He raised a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

She smiled in a smug manner. “It would appear so.”

“I’m more than up to the task,” he warned.

“One can only hope.” She grinned and held out her hand. “Then we have an agreement?”

“We do at that. You have my word I will do everything I can to assist you in your absurd quest.”

She laughed.

He took her hand and for a moment wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and knew if he did, he might not let her go. His gaze met hers. “There is a great deal I need to say to you, Lucy.”

“Is it important?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t think this is the time.” She paused. “I have something I wish to say to you as well. But this is not the time for that either.”

“Why not?”

“If we are going to discuss important matters, then I would much prefer to do so fully dressed.”

He laughed. “Would you?”

“I would.” She nodded. “I feel entirely too, well, free I suppose, without my usual layer upon layer of clothing.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid that sensation of liberty would not serve me well in a discussion of important matters. I am beginning to suspect women are made to wear garments like corsets in the first place to restrict our sense of freedom. It’s awfully difficult to do anything improper in a corset.”

“I had no idea.”

“That is a relief.”

He laughed. “You may well be the most delightful woman I have ever met.”

“Am I?” Her gaze searched his. “What makes me the most delightful woman you have ever met?”

“Any number of things.” He considered the question. “You have a tendency to make the most outrageous comments. You’re clever and amusing. You know your own mind. You have a deep sense of honor. You’re independent and you have the courage to follow your own path.”

“All of which drives you mad.”

He hadn’t realized it before, but she was right. The very things that made her so captivating were the very things that drove him to distraction. He chuckled. “So it would seem.”

“Goodness, Cameron.” She considered him curiously. “Do you realize you know everything about me and I know very little about you?”

“On the contrary, I don’t know much about you at all.”

“Then we should add that to the list of important matters we need to discuss.” She glanced at their hands, then her gaze met his. “You do realize you are still holding my hand.”

“Do you want me to let it go?”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “I like you too. Quite a lot, really. Awkward, isn’t it?”

“Or perfect.”

“It has been my observation,” she said slowly, “that perfection is only found in tales of fiction. Life is not as tidy as a story. In life everything does not always end well.”

“It can.”

She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “There is more than a little of the dreamer in you as well, isn’t there, Cameron?”

He smiled slowly. “Perhaps.”

“I like that. It almost makes up for that tendency you have to be stuffy.”

He started to argue, then thought better of it. “It’s good to know you think I have some redeeming qualities.”

“Some.” She laughed and gently pulled her hand from his. The oddest sense of loss washed through him. “However, if you are truly going to help me, there are some conditions.”

He drew his brows together. “What kind of conditions?”

“First, you need to accept that I am of age. I am an adult fully capable of making my own decisions and my own choices, whether or not you agree with them. While I am willing to listen to reason, this is my quest and my life.”

He hesitated.

“If you cannot accept—”

“No, you’re right of course.” Still, if he were now helping her instead of blindly following in her wake, he was confident he could steer her away from anything too potentially scandalous. He nodded. “I can agree to that. Anything else?”

“I will keep you informed as to any new endeavors I plan; however, I will not track you down to do so. If you wish to be informed as to my comings and goings, you need to provide me with an address where you may be found.”

“Of course.” He could certainly give her his address. He had purchased the modest house some years ago when he realized being in his father’s presence more than necessary would inevitably lead to disaster. “Is there more?”

“Yes.” She considered him for a moment. “When you were being so incredibly irrational after we returned from Prichard’s the other night, you said that you had trusted me and implied I had betrayed that trust.”

“Did I?” Unease washed through him.

“You know full well you did. Trust, Cameron, has to go both ways.”

“Of course.”

“As well as honesty.”

“That goes without saying.” An annoying voice in the back of his head pointed out he had not actually been honest with her. However, as he had every intention of rectifying that minor discrepancy, he ignored it.

She clasped her hands together in front of her. “I have trusted you up to now. Can I continue to do so?”

He nodded. “Without question.”

She stared at him thoughtfully, as if expecting him to say something more. Or trying to decide if he was indeed worthy of her trust. This might be the perfect opportunity to tell her everything. Although Vadeboncoeur would return any minute as would Miss West. And this wasn’t something that would bear an interruption. Besides, he still wasn’t quite sure exactly how to say what he needed to say.

“Well,” she said at last, the vaguest hint of disappointment in her voice. “There’s no need for you to stay. Clara will return shortly and Jean-Philippe said we would be finished in a few hours.”

“I have no intention of leaving.” He stood and strolled over to one of the benches beside the pathway.

“What are you doing?”

He picked up the bench and moved it to a position where he could see both the chaise and the artist’s easel. “I have always wanted to watch at artist at his craft.”

She laughed. “You have not.”

“Consider it a new desire then.” He seated himself on the bench and smiled. “In hopes of, I don’t know, broadening my horizons, shall we say. And perhaps becoming less stuffy in the process.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you trust me to be alone with him, Mr. Fairchild?”

Once again, her great-aunt’s desire for
romantic interludes
flashed through his mind. “I trust
you
implicitly.”

“Then it’s Jean-Philippe you don’t trust?”

He snorted. “Not for an instant.”

“Oh, come now.” She huffed. “I am not going to allow some silly Frenchman to seduce me.”

“I never thought—”

“You most certainly did.”

“Well, he is handsome and probably charming—”

“Oh, he is most definitely charming. But did you think me so shallow as to succumb to a bit of charm and a handsome . . .” She paused. “Well,
extremely
handsome face.”

“No.” He scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Furthermore, I am nothing if not sensible. Certainly I may, on occasion, jump to an inaccurate conclusion. I might even be a bit reckless, but I am not impulsive. I do not make important, significant decisions without due consideration.”