A Lady of Talent by Evelyn Richardson

been a little girl climbing the hills overlooking the Bay of Naples with her father. She had forgotten what it felt like, the touch of another human being, warm and reassuring, and infinitely comforting.
    “Oh my lady, I do beg your pardon. I hope you have not been waiting long, but the man in the shop took an age about his business.” A young maid, cheeks flushed with exertion and very much out of breath came hurrying up to the earl and Lady Cecilia as they stood there in the vestibule.
    “Do not worry, Susan. I have only just got here myself.” Cecilia was both annoyed and grateful for the interruption. Her latest subject’s fiancé was having an oddly disturbing effect on her, and while Cecilia might allow, or even encourage, her imagination to take over when she was painting, she was not about to do so in her own life. Up until the moment Susan had appeared, she had been dangerously close to letting that happen.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    The trancelike state of warmth and intimacy that had come over Cecilia when Sebastian had taken her hand in his was not easily banished, despite her best efforts to focus her thoughts elsewhere. Much to her disgust, Cecilia spent the entire ride home thinking over the conversation they had shared in the vestibule of Somerset House.
    Who would have thought that a man engaged to a shallow beauty like Barbara Wyatt would exhibit a profound interest in anything—especially something as intellectually rigorous and demanding as mathematics? In fact, the more she considered it, the more Cecilia was forced to revisit her original opinion of the Earl of Charrington, and to ask herself if the man she had dismissed so easily as cold and arrogant was perhaps as deep and complicated as the field in which he had expressed so much interest.
    While Cecilia had welcomed her maid’s sudden appearance, and had been glad of an excuse to end a conversation that threatened to involve her more closely than she had any desire to be, Sebastian, on the other hand had done his best to prolong it. He had even offered to take them home in his curricle, insisting that he had nothing better to do with his time—no other destination in mind than a certain house in Golden Square.
    But the more he had insisted, the more Cecilia had resolved to take a hackney as she had originally planned until at last, smiling ruefully, Sebastian had given in. “Very well. I shall not insult your intelligence any further by claiming that I have not a single obligation today; but believe me, none of them is so important that it begins to compare with the pleasure I would take in furthering our conversation. However, I can see that you are not only very determined, but also very independent, and, as someone who values his own independence highly, I cannot in all conscience press you to change your mind, though I am sorry that you won’t.”
    He did, however, help her into the hackney, retaining her hand in his for a few moments longer than was absolutely necessary. “Thank you for a most enjoyable conversation.”
    The words were wholly inadequate for the message he wished to convey—his sense that he had just discovered the rarest of treasures, someone who truly understood him—but he was forced to be content with them. He ground his teeth in frustration as she took her seat, but as he looked into the hazel eyes gazing down at him, he saw that somehow, miraculous as it was, she seemed to comprehend all that he was trying so hard to make her understand.
    “I enjoyed it too.” Cecilia replied so softly that he had to bend close to her to catch her words. And then, before he could say or do anything more, the carriage began to roll forward, its driver eager to take advantage of a break in the press of traffic on the busy thoroughfare.
    Regretfully, Sebastian closed the door and stood there watching as the carriage made its way up the Strand. And it was not until it had completely disappeared from view that he realized his own