Lord Perfect by Loretta Chase

flights up, but she was
used to the climb and should not be breathing so hard. She was
grateful he asked no more questions until she opened the classroom
door.
    The sparsely furnished room was large and amply supplied
with windows. "The light is good, you see " she said,
"especially in the early afternoon. It's always kept clean.
Several of us—all women—share the rent and use the space
alternately. We employ a diligent cleaning woman."
    She showed him the easels, neatly stacked in a corner of
the room. "My girls are the daughters of prosperous tradesmen.
Some are a little spoiled, but I have managed to teach them the
importance of maintaining order in the work space."
    He walked to a window, clasped his hands behind his
back, and looked out. She noticed his head was bare. She glanced
about and saw his hat on a chair. He must have taken it off when he
entered the room. She didn't know why she was surprised, or if
surprise was what she felt. The afternoon light played over dark hair
clean and free of pomade. It had a hint of curl, which would be far
more pronounced when it was wet.
    Do not picture him wet ,
she commanded herself.
    His deep voice dragged her back from the brink of
danger. "What else do you teach them?" he asked. "What
is your method?"
    She explained how she began with simple still life
exercises, allowing her students to bring a few objects from home and
arrange them as they wished. "Perhaps some fruit or a cup and
saucer at first," she said. "Later, I might arrange a
bonnet, a pair of gloves, and a book. There are outdoor exercises,
too, when the weather permits. Trees, doorways, a shop front."
    "You do not take them to the Royal Academy to copy
other artists' works?" he said, still looking out of the window.
    "That is not the best method for my students,"
she said. "They do not aim to become artists. Their main desire
is to acquire refinement and ladylike accomplishments. Their parents
want them to rise in the world. I teach my students to see. I teach
them mechanics and techniques. In learning these, they acquire the
capacity to discern quality. What they learn from me they might apply
to other subjects or hobbies." She tried to imagine what an
adolescent lordling would gain from such instruction.
    "You teach fundamentals, in other words," said
Rath-bourne.
    "Yes."
    "That is what Peregrine lacks," he said,
turning away from the window finally. The sunlight outlined the
almost-curls and burnished his chiseled features. "He lacks the
foundation. He has had drawing masters. Apparently, their methods did
not suit him. Perhaps yours will."
    "He would require private lessons," she said,
ruthlessly suppressing the seed of hope trying to sprout within her.
He had said only "perhaps." It was the diplomatic thing to
say. The room must seem shabby to him, her methods amateurish, her
students nobodies. "I cannot teach him in classes with the
girls. His presence would be disruptive. He will make some girls shy
and others bold and all of them silly."
    "Peregrine is a disruptive presence," said Rathbourne. "It hardly matters
who is about. Girls, boys, adults. Teachers, family, clergymen,
sailors, soldiers, members of Parliament. My nephew is a doubting
Thomas. He wants everything proved. He is inquisitive, argumentative,
and obstinate. He will ask you Why ?
a hundred times in an hour. If you do not triple your usual fee at
the very least, you will be a great fool."
    He could not be serious. Thrice her fee for one boy?
Lord Lisle couldn't be more difficult to manage than Olivia, however
much he tried, however much his parents had spoiled him. Olivia had
inherited altogether too much of the Dreadful DeLucey character.
    "In that case, I shall quadruple it,"
Bathsheba said.
    "He said you were sensible," said Rathbourne,
coming away from the window. "Would you be willing to take him,
then, in spite of my warning?"
    She did not even blink. Her father had taught her how to
play cards. "Have you made up your mind, then?" she