short while later, they sent Colette home in Olivia’s carriage, and Gabriel helped his hesitant wife into his high-perch phaeton. When he climbed into the box from the other side, he looked over to find her eyeing his new equipage. It was an exceptional piece of craftsmanship, with its highly glossed black finish that reflected the London streets like a mirror.
‘Is your artist always such a washer-woman?’
‘If you are asking if he enjoys gossip, I suppose he does. Talking, as you are well aware, helps to make portrait sessions bearable.’
‘I would not think a man like that would be interested in the social life of someone like Prinny.’
‘Come now, are you truly that jaded? Most everyone is interested in what he does. Manning is like most aspiring portrait artists. He would love to have the cache to say the Prince Regent sat for him. To have his work displayed in a royal residence would be quite the accomplishment.’
‘You have introduced them?’
‘Not yet.’
‘But you plan to?’
‘If the opportunity should present itself, I do not see why I would not. Manning is extremely talented. Surely you can see that from the pieces displayed in his studio? He has even painted Nicholas for me.’
‘I will agree the man possesses talent, however did I not tell you that you were not to sit for him again?’
‘You did.’
A scruffy dog darted out into the road, and Gabriel expertly manoeuvred the phaeton around it. The carriage rocked back and forth on its wheels. ‘If you heard my command, why were you in his studio today?’ He glanced over at Olivia, who was sitting with her hands gripped tightly together.
‘I never agreed to your request.’
‘It was not a request, and you knew that.’ Now he pulled abruptly to a stop as a newsboy ran across the road.
Olivia made an odd sound. ‘I honour my commitments, and I told him I would sit for him.’
‘Now you must tell him you’ve changed your mind.’
‘I cannot do that.’
‘You mean you will not.’ He snapped the reins, making the phaeton go faster.
Her hands moved to grip the seat.
‘Tell him I forbid it,’ he continued.
‘You forbid it?’ she ground out.
Gabriel nodded, glanced down at her hands, and focused his attention back on the road. If she was not wearing gloves, he was certain her knuckles would be white. ‘Why are you so nervous?’
‘I find I do not like sitting this far above the ground.’
He took the reins in one hand and pulled her closer to him. ‘Do you feel safer away from the edge?’
Olivia nodded a fraction of an inch.
‘I will not let any harm come to you.’
Her eyes searched his and everything fell away around them. Then she quickly turned away and watched the people strolling in and out of the shops. ‘You should be looking at the road,’ she advised him.
‘But the view next to me is infinitely more appealing.’ How he wished he could see her face past the rim of her bonnet.
‘The road please,’ she reminded him with a crack in her voice.
It was a good thing they were close to Gunter’s. If he continued to be tempted to stare at her, he was sure to crash into something. They turned onto Berkeley Street, and the trees of the square came into view. ‘We have not settled our discussion,’ he reminded her, searching for a place to park.
‘Yes we have. You do not want me to have my portrait done, and I do.’
‘Just to clarify, I do not want you to have that portrait done for an exhibition.’
‘I realise it is rather bold. However, you’ve seen the preliminary sketch. No one will know it’s me.’
‘Rather bold? It is much too provocative.’ How could she not understand that?
‘If I did not know you better, I would think you were jealous.’
He parked the phaeton along the garden across from the confectioner’s shop. There was nothing he could say to her comment, so he chose not to acknowledge it. ‘What flavour of ice would you care for?’ he asked, purposely changing the subject.
She gave a slight shake of her head. ‘I have no preference. You choose.’
Gabriel studied her passive features. If he selected a flavour she hated, would she turn that into an argument? He addressed the waiter that approached his side of the phaeton. ‘I shall have bergamot ice and Her Grace will have pineapple.’
Olivia’s eyes widened momentarily. He was certain he guessed incorrectly, until she granted him a small smile. ‘How did you know that is my favourite?’
‘You would order it when I would take you here years ago.’
‘I’m surprised you remembered.’
So was he. They sat in silence, Gabriel recalling the times they’d sat under this very tree before their marriage fell apart. When the waiter arrived with their order, Gabriel relaxed and began to enjoy his ice.
‘I never knew you liked bergamot,’ she commented, sliding a delicate spoonful of ice into her mouth.
Gabriel shrugged. ‘I have recently become partial to the taste. Have you ever tried it?’
‘Yes, I found it rather good.’
‘Well, this is mine. Enjoy your pineapple, and next time I will order you bergamot.’ The thought of taking her here again made him grin.
Her forehead wrinkled before she turned away. Now what had he done wrong? He was only teasing her.
For the remainder of their time at Gunter’s neither spoke. They were almost home when Olivia broke the heavy silence that hung over them. ‘Why does it really matter to you if I sit for that portrait? For years you have made it quite clear you have no interest in me. I could have walked through the house in animal skins, and you would not have noticed. Now, you are concerned about a portrait and buying me ice. Why?’
Gabriel turned the phaeton into their drive and with the lift of his hand he dismissed the footman coming down the steps towards them. He faced her, staring into her brown eyes that were flecked with gold. ‘You were the one who told me you never wanted me to touch you again. For five years I have had no notion if you still feel that way, or if you spoke those words in haste and have since regretted them. You would not speak to me, so I had no way of finding out. But the other night when you assumed I would take you with no regard to your comfort... I had no idea your opinion of me was that low.’
She looked
