Page 54 of His Tempting Duchess

Emily was forced to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. If she tipped her head forward just a little, she would be able to rest her chin on his chest.

“I don’twantto ask Mr. Greaves.” She sighed theatrically again. “But I may have nochoice.”

He held her gaze for a long moment.

Emily held her breath. The air seemed to crackle between them. It made no sense to her, but there was no denying the pulsing desirein the pit of her belly.

“Onesketch?” he said, almost warningly.

“Just one.” She nodded, biting back a smile. “And no more than fifteen minutes.”

He sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. “Very well. Follow me, then.”

“Won’t we do it in here?”

“No,” he answered shortly, turning on his heel.

Tucking her sketchbook under her arm, Emily scurried after him.

He led the way further down the hallway, turning onto an even narrower staircase. It led up and up until Emily’s legs began to ache.

At last, the staircase opened into a circular room with a dome-shaped ceiling. Aglassdome-shaped ceiling. The velvet-blue night sky spread out above them, dotted with stars. The moon shone down, beaming with silvery light.

“Oh,” Emily breathed, her head tilted back to stare up at the stars. “Oh, that isbeautiful.”

“Clara is a rather keen astronomer,” Cassian murmured, half-smiling. He set the candelabra down on a low, round table, illuminating the small space. “Now, shall we get this over with?”

Emily glanced around. There was a cluster of astronomy apparatus, including a telescope, some complicated-looking charts, and a pile of worn old books. Aside from the low, round table, all the flat surfaces were covered in books and papers. There was a high-back armchair facing the table, and a threadbarechaiseloungewas pushed against the wall. There were scattered pencils, pens, and inkwells here and there, and she picked up a sharp-looking pencil.

“Move those books from that chair,” Emily instructed, pointing at the chair by the wall, “and pull it over here. You’ll sit on that one.”

Sighing, Cassian obeyed and plopped down on thechaise, crossing one leg over the other. “There isn’t enough light.”

“On the contrary, the candlelight will cast the most interesting shadows,” Emily countered, opening her sketchbook.

She began to draw. Her pencil skipped over the page, easily picking out his silhouette and the rough contours of his body.

He sat stiffly, his hands resting by his sides, clearly uncomfortable. Glancing up at him, Emily hesitated, her pencil hovering over the page.

“You can quite easily tell me to mind my own business if you like…”

“Why do I feel as though I might do just that?”

“… but may I ask, Cassian, why are you so against being sketched? It is me? Do you not wantmeto draw your picture?”

Cassian’s eyes, dark in the gloom, flicked to hers. For an instant, the silence hung heavily between them, and she thought that he was not going to answer.

“My father had quite a fascination with his portrait,” he said at last, his voice sharp, the words bitten off. “There were dozens, if not hundreds, of pictures of him scattered throughout our home. Portraits, sketches, and so on. He was a rather vain man, but it was more than that. He cared about his legacy, aboutposterity. It was of the utmost importance to him that he was remembered. He had everything his way, always.

“He was a most controlling man. I recall him bellowing at some poor artist for hours because the fellow hadn’t depicted himexactlyas he had wished to be drawn. He had portraits of my brother and I done, too. It took… hours. Days, on some occasions. He would scream at us, and nothing was ever good enough. I always swore that once I was a grown man, I would be as different from him as a mancouldbe.”

Emily swallowed hard, setting down her pencil. “Oh. Oh, I had no idea, Cassian. How awful.”

He shrugged, inspecting his nails. “Cruel fathers are hardly unusual, especially amongst the ton. Save your pity; I don’t need it.”

She bit her lip, waiting to see if he would speak again. He didn’t, so she picked up her pencil once again and resumed drawing.

Almost imperceptibly, Cassian’s posture had relaxed a little, the lines of his body less stiff. Emily hastily drew in those lines, adding rough shading to indicate the shadows thrown by the candelabra.

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