Page 27 of Temptation and the Artist

Chapter Eight

Stephen dined with Aline and Mr. Flowers, who then helped Stephen cart his easel and other equipment up to the lily pond. The weather remained dry, if a little cloudy, but, Stephen assured her on his return, the glow of the lanterns was spectacular, coming from all over the park, and he had not given up on a little starlight.

Aline, wearing a scarlet domino cloak borrowed from the hotel in order to blend in with the other guests no doubt swarming the pleasure gardens by now, handed a matching one to Stephen.

His eyes laughed, although he donned it without a murmur of complaint.

“You look like some evil monk from something by Mrs. Radcliffe,” Aline said.

“So do you.”

Basil came out and laughed at them both before allowing his mother to hug him goodnight. Then, with the servants and a scowling Mr. Flowers to see them off, they made their way out of the hotel and into the pleasure garden.

They were not the only people crossing from the hotel. Most of the others were masked and walked straight to the pavilion where the public ball took place.

“Aren’t you tempted?” Aline asked as they walked on through the colorful throngs laughing and chattering their way about the paths.

“To dance with you? Of course. But I would rather have you to myself.”

The gardens were different at night, at least on a ball night. Waltz music drifted out from the pavilion. The neglected, shabby appearance of the ornamental temples and castles and fountains was hidden in the lantern light, which turned the whole place into a magical, fairytale world.

Apart from the odd feminine screech and lascivious laughter from the bushes.

They discovered their secret garden was still secret. The close reeds and bushes and a spreading willow seemed to distance them from the noise of the rest of the park, though the waltz music was still faintly audible.

While Stephen lit the extra lanterns he had brought over and positioned them to shine on his easel, Aline cast off her domino and gazed about her in wonder, from the pond to the sky where the passing clouds did indeed reveal a scattering of stars in their dark velvet firmament. In a moment of pure euphoria, she lifted her arms and spun around, smiling up at the moon.

“Do that again,” Stephen said breathlessly.

Laughing, she did so. He made her repeat the twirl, and halfway through caught her to a halt. Her heart skipped, thinking he would kiss her, but he didn’t, just adjusted her face to look beyond him to the sky.

“Can you hold that pose?” he asked, raising her arms as they had been before.

“I can try…”

He seemed to work furiously fast, though from her position to the side, she could not see him so well. After several minutes, he said, “Lower your arms if you like and ease your neck. I’m working on the background… The gown is beautiful, by the way, just what I envisioned.”

He was working on a larger canvas than he had used for the other paintings, though he did not look remotely daunted by the size of the task he had given himself.

“Do you ever not paint?” she asked curiously.

“Sometimes, when I’m just sketching. But no, not for very long.”

“And yet you don’t miss much of what else goes on in the world, do you?”

“I try not to. Subjects for art are everywhere. Could you hold your head up again?”

She obeyed, but apparently, it wasn’t quite right, for he came toward her, and adjusted her stance and the angle of her head. Then he paused, and to her secret delight, stroked a caressing thumb across her lips.

Then he left her and continued to paint.

“Now,” he said sometime later, “can you spin as you did before? I need to catch the movement of the gown… Again, if you please… And again if you’re not too dizzy! Now rest a few minutes.”

It was the pattern of the evening, repetitive and tiring in many ways, and yet it was never dull because she was in his company, and, especially during her resting time while he concentrated on aspects of the background, they talked about anything and everything. And laughed. When she had met him at Dearham Abbey at Christmas, she had never imagined him capable of so much laughter, or so much quiet, subtle humor.

“One more spin,” he said, “and then we should go back before you freeze to death.”

“I am not such a poor creature.” She obliged, and he gave a soft grunt of satisfaction. Since he didn’t tell her otherwise, she held the pose. Then she heard his movement to the side, the rustle of fabric, and her domino cloak landed about her shoulders.

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