Page 31 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Chapter 11

Hattie’s heart raced. She was shocked at her own impertinence, but she did not regret her request. It was clear from the paintings covering the walls and sitting on the easels before the windows that Bentley was extremely talented. Though, in truth, she’d known that just from the painting above his parlor mantel. To have the opportunity to learn from him would be prodigiously beneficial.

But he was not speaking. He silently regarded her from across the room, his hands fidgeting behind his back as he looked like he was attempting to read her mind. His beard had grown longer since their first encounter, his dark hair thickening, and it gave him a roguish appearance. His cravat was once again missing, a triangle of skin exposed where his shirt fluttered open.

“I’ve always struggled with mixing the correct colors,” she explained, dragging her gaze away from his open neck. “Which is why I did not take well to our initial meeting in the woods when you pointed out how I’d erred. I’ve taken lessons from other painters, but those were years ago now, and I know I’ve reached the point in my skill where I cannot progress without help.”

“I have never taught another person before.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t matter,” she said easily. “I’m a quick study. I typically get along well with most people. I promise I shouldn’t be too much of a burden.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and it occurred to Hattie that he could very well believe she was attempting to take advantage of his goodness. Rushing to reassure him, she crossed the room. “I do not have designs on you, Your Grace, I promise. Only your skills with color.”

His mouth quirked into a smile. “That is a relief.”

“I should think so.” She laughed. “Honestly, what you must make of me. Sometimes words leave my mouth without my permission, and I should have thought through this first. But I do not expect you to give of your time and talents freely. Of course I would pay.”

“I have no need of money.”

Yes, of course he didn’t. Drat. She had nothing else to give. “Is there a service I can offer you? I am not above average with a needle, but I can mend shirts or—oh! I’ve recently perfected a few embroidery letters. If you’d like handkerchiefs monogrammed with a B, I am certain I could manage it.”

Bentley chuckled. “That is quite all right, but I thank you for the offer.”

“Well, I cannot very well expect free lessons. Is there nothing I could give you?”

His expression seemed to freeze, his eyes darting over her face. His voice was low, uncertain, and he said, “There is one thing.”

Hattie’s stomach flipped over at the hoarseness of his tone, the danger that seemed to seep from his lowly-spoken words. The way he watched her so intently was alarming, and she took a hesitant step back. If this man intended to suggest that she pay him in a less than savory way, he would receive her unadulterated wrath. She was far too self-respecting to even consider entering into any such engagement. Though truthfully, she hadn’t expected something of this nature to come from the duke.

But what else could it be? If the man had something above board in mind, why wasn’t he speaking?

“This is going to sound strange, I am sure…”

Hattie had heard enough. “No.”

He looked surprised. “No?”

“Yes, I said no.”

While tilting his head just slightly to the side, his eyebrows pulled together. “May I inquire as to why you’ve said no before knowing exactly what it is I have in mind?”

“I realize you hardly know me, Your Grace, but if you think it admissible to proposition a gently bred lady whom—”

“What? No,” he said, putting his hands up as if the action would stop her words. “That is not…that is, I do not wish to proposition you to do anything of that nature. I merely wish to paint you.”

Hattie blinked, stunned. Paint her? He wanted her to be the subject of one of his masterpieces? She was no rare beauty. There must be something else he was not telling her.

He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “I cannot believe you thought…I can see how you came to that conclusion, of course. But I have nothing but respect for you, Miss Green, and I would never—”

“Yes, well, maybe we can pretend I never suggested it.” A blush crept up her cheeks, and she turned toward the fire, hoping he would believe her reddened skin was due to its warmth. A flash of gray caught her eye and she knelt, coming level to Romeo’s passive face. “There you are! Come here, you wretched cat. You’ve no idea what you’ve put me through.”

Romeo slunk out from beneath the leather armchair, climbing slowly onto her lap with his ears flattened like an errant schoolboy in need of a scolding. She arranged her skirts over her legs and stroked Romeo’s head, sitting in the center of the rug before the fire.

“He may have some idea what he’s put you through. He looks awfully penitent.”

Hattie ran her fingers over the missing hair on his side, then looked up at the duke. “Was he injured badly?”

Bentley crossed the room and lowered himself in the armchair Romeo had been hiding beneath. “It was not unlike the scratch you sustained from my chicken, and it healed quickly. In fact, I’m certain that bird is responsible for both injuries.”

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