was a woman to whom he'd only spoken a sparse number of words, yet she was causing his protective instincts to blossom. He couldn't permit her personal problems to affect his behavior!
Obviously, she wished his compliments to be genuine— for doubtless they'd been seldom offered in her life even though she'd deserved many—and he felt like the consummate scoundrel he really was. She desperately needed authentic friendship, and it would be wrong to take advantage of her, but his pattern of trickery and deception was so entrenched that he couldn't fathom proceeding in any other fashion.
His finger was still on her chin, and she pulled away, severing the fragile contact. Immediately, their intense link vanished, and he speculated as to why he'd been foolish enough to infer it existed.
Her emotions shuttered, she glanced over at John. "I agree with Mary: he's an incurable flatterer."
"That he is," John good-naturedly acceded.
Gabriel struggled to restore his equilibrium, to carry on with the ruse. "Would you ladies like to view some samples of my work?"
"Actually"—Lady Elizabeth stood—"I'm curious about your studio, and I was hoping we could begin our project today."
He was flummoxed by her pronouncement. His female clients never wished to commence at once! They required crucial wooing until they were more relaxed. A good deal of his initial energy was spent on allaying their misgivings.
'Today?" he queried, baffled.
"Yes." She dazzled him with a frightening smile that had him rapidly reviewing the reasons he'd thought he should enter into an affair with her. "If your calendar is free, that is. I wouldn't want to be an imposition."
"You could never be an imposition."
In consternation, he shook his head. This wasn't proceeding according to plan, at all. She was supposed to be apprehensive, ambivalent, undetermined. Her reticence would let him be covertly persuasive, credibly irresistible, while he gradually wore down her control and vanquished her inhibitions.
"Why delay?" she asked.
"Why, indeed?" He scowled at his father, but John merely cocked a brow, as perplexed as he about her impatience. With women, what man was ever on stable ground? "How is my schedule this afternoon, John?"
"It's open."
"Excellent." Gabriel hadn't intended on hosting a guest, but he faked enthusiasm. He was scarcely equipped, so he'd have to improvise. "My studio is in a cottage in the backyard, where the light is better. Shall we go out?"
"I'd like that." Audaciously, she sauntered over to him and slipped her arm into his. "How long will we be?"
"I'll be doing some detailed sketching. Perhaps two or three hours?"
"Three hours will be splendid." She glowered at Miss Smith who had also risen. "Mary, why don't you finish your errands, then meet me here at four o'clock?"
Miss Smith hesitated, plainly wanting to object or complain that Lady Elizabeth would be unsupervised and at his mercy, but a telling visual communication passed between them, and Miss Smith—evidently acquiescing to the lady's higher rank—backed down without comment
"If you're sure," she broached suspiciously.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry." Sensing her companion's desire for further persuasion, Lady Elizabeth turned toward Gabriel. "I'm in good hands, aren't I?"
"The best," he could only concede.
"There, see?" She bestowed another penetrating look on Miss Smith, this one a tad more pleading.
"I'll return at four," Mary Smith ultimately said.
Gabriel embraced his unforeseen triumph and whisked Lady Elizabeth out of the room before she could change her mind.
Behind him, John's voice was discernible as he set about smoothing any ruffled feathers, while efficiently assisting Miss Smith in an expeditious departure. Within seconds, his father would have her wrapped in her cloak and deposited in the Norwich carriage.
Quickly, Gabriel ushered Lady Elizabeth out the door at the rear of the house. Anticipation induced him to race, and he practically flew down the
Obviously, she wished his compliments to be genuine— for doubtless they'd been seldom offered in her life even though she'd deserved many—and he felt like the consummate scoundrel he really was. She desperately needed authentic friendship, and it would be wrong to take advantage of her, but his pattern of trickery and deception was so entrenched that he couldn't fathom proceeding in any other fashion.
His finger was still on her chin, and she pulled away, severing the fragile contact. Immediately, their intense link vanished, and he speculated as to why he'd been foolish enough to infer it existed.
Her emotions shuttered, she glanced over at John. "I agree with Mary: he's an incurable flatterer."
"That he is," John good-naturedly acceded.
Gabriel struggled to restore his equilibrium, to carry on with the ruse. "Would you ladies like to view some samples of my work?"
"Actually"—Lady Elizabeth stood—"I'm curious about your studio, and I was hoping we could begin our project today."
He was flummoxed by her pronouncement. His female clients never wished to commence at once! They required crucial wooing until they were more relaxed. A good deal of his initial energy was spent on allaying their misgivings.
'Today?" he queried, baffled.
"Yes." She dazzled him with a frightening smile that had him rapidly reviewing the reasons he'd thought he should enter into an affair with her. "If your calendar is free, that is. I wouldn't want to be an imposition."
"You could never be an imposition."
In consternation, he shook his head. This wasn't proceeding according to plan, at all. She was supposed to be apprehensive, ambivalent, undetermined. Her reticence would let him be covertly persuasive, credibly irresistible, while he gradually wore down her control and vanquished her inhibitions.
"Why delay?" she asked.
"Why, indeed?" He scowled at his father, but John merely cocked a brow, as perplexed as he about her impatience. With women, what man was ever on stable ground? "How is my schedule this afternoon, John?"
"It's open."
"Excellent." Gabriel hadn't intended on hosting a guest, but he faked enthusiasm. He was scarcely equipped, so he'd have to improvise. "My studio is in a cottage in the backyard, where the light is better. Shall we go out?"
"I'd like that." Audaciously, she sauntered over to him and slipped her arm into his. "How long will we be?"
"I'll be doing some detailed sketching. Perhaps two or three hours?"
"Three hours will be splendid." She glowered at Miss Smith who had also risen. "Mary, why don't you finish your errands, then meet me here at four o'clock?"
Miss Smith hesitated, plainly wanting to object or complain that Lady Elizabeth would be unsupervised and at his mercy, but a telling visual communication passed between them, and Miss Smith—evidently acquiescing to the lady's higher rank—backed down without comment
"If you're sure," she broached suspiciously.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry." Sensing her companion's desire for further persuasion, Lady Elizabeth turned toward Gabriel. "I'm in good hands, aren't I?"
"The best," he could only concede.
"There, see?" She bestowed another penetrating look on Miss Smith, this one a tad more pleading.
"I'll return at four," Mary Smith ultimately said.
Gabriel embraced his unforeseen triumph and whisked Lady Elizabeth out of the room before she could change her mind.
Behind him, John's voice was discernible as he set about smoothing any ruffled feathers, while efficiently assisting Miss Smith in an expeditious departure. Within seconds, his father would have her wrapped in her cloak and deposited in the Norwich carriage.
Quickly, Gabriel ushered Lady Elizabeth out the door at the rear of the house. Anticipation induced him to race, and he practically flew down the
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