you doing here?’
Gabriel’s fiery gaze shifted to her. ‘I had an appointment not far away. I thought I would escort you home.’
How could he possibly have known where she was? And, why in the world would he want to escort her home?
‘I believe your sitting is over for the day, Duchess,’ Gabriel commanded.
‘Nonsense, there is still more to do. Isn’t that correct?’ She turned her head towards her friend, who appeared pale.
He shifted nervously. ‘There isn’t much more to do. You are welcome to stay until I am finished for today.’
She was not about to allow that to happen, but before she could voice her opinion Gabriel walked to the easel, crossed his arms and studied the sketch.
‘Continue,’ he said with a nod.
‘I will have to touch her to adjust her form.’
‘He does not care,’ Olivia murmured.
But the artist’s eyes were fixed on Gabriel, who nodded his consent and watched as Manning went back to the easel to study Olivia’s pose. He approached her and hesitantly moved her neck and arm. Very carefully he adjusted the folds of her gown.
The sketching resumed and Olivia could hear Gabriel move towards the chair near the door. Suddenly the pose she was in was not as relaxing as it had been a short time before. Why had she ever agreed to sit in this ridiculous position?
* * *
Although it probably only took fifteen more minutes of sketching in silence, to Olivia it felt like hours. Finally she heard him toss his chalk onto the table and she picked up her head to gauge his reaction. His grin was infectious.
‘You’re pleased?’ she asked, smiling back at him.
‘Exceedingly so. I’ll need you to come back to begin painting.’ He walked to the divan and held out his hand to help her up.
Gabriel rose abruptly. Both Olivia and Manning turned his way.
Immediately, her friend dropped her hand. ‘Will you be able to arrive before eight? I would love to capture the early morning light on the folds of the satin.’
She rolled her shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness. ‘Yes, I believe I can.’
Manning walked to a cabinet and began removing bottles of pigment. She was about to enter the dressing room when she paused at the sight of Gabriel approaching his side.
Her husband picked up a dish with something brown resting in it and held it out. ‘You smoke while my wife sits for you?’ Gabriel asked, arching an intimidating brow.
‘No, I would never.’
‘See that you do not.’
Olivia shook her head as she walked into the dressing room, wondering why it should even matter to him. A short while later, she emerged wearing her very proper bonnet and cinnamon-coloured walking dress with Colette at her side. As her maid walked towards the door, Olivia approached the easel, curious about the composition. What she saw surprised her.
Her face was turned away from the viewer so only her neck and the outline of her left cheek were visible. Her hair was fanned out around her with one dark curl sloping down her neck and gliding over her breast. The fingers of her left hand appeared relaxed as if they had no strength left in them. True to his word, no one would know who the subject was.
‘Well?’ Manning asked, approaching her side.
‘I do not even recognise myself.’
‘I told you to trust me. It will be breathtaking when I am finished. Mr West will be begging me to exhibit it.’
She hoped for his sake that would be true. The man was a highly skilled artist. The more people exposed to his work, the more commissions he would receive.
There was a distinct clearing of a throat from the doorway where Gabriel stood, looking down at his watch. If he was so impatient to leave, he could do so without her. For years he had completely avoided her and last night he interrupted her dinner with Andrew. Now he wanted to escort her home. What was he about?
* * *
As they walked out onto the pavement, Gabriel had to squint to adjust to the bright sunlight. After last night’s discussion with Andrew, he was curious about this artist Olivia had taken an interest in. Luckily it did not take James long to find where the man’s studio was located.
‘Where is your carriage?’ he asked, scanning the busy road.
‘Colette and I walked. One of the wheels of my carriage required some work this morning and I saw no reason to wait on such a lovely day.’
‘My carriage is always at your disposal should there be a need.’
He took her by the elbow and steered her around some young boisterous bucks. The moment they passed them, she shifted her arm out from his grasp.
‘Where are you planning on hanging the portrait?’ he asked, clasping his hands behind his back and redirecting his thoughts away from the idea that she could not bear for him to touch her.
‘We hope to have Mr West agree to exhibit it at the Royal Academy.’
Gabriel froze and Colette almost collided with his back. He could not have possibly heard her correctly. That portrait of his wife—looking as though she had just been thoroughly and completely satisfied—was to be on display for all of London to see? Like hell it was!
‘No,’ he stated firmly and resumed walking. At least that was taken care of.
Olivia caught up to him and did her best to keep pace with his long strides. ‘What did you say?’ she asked.
He glanced down at her. She was not pleased.
‘I said no. That portrait is not leaving our house.’
‘The decision is not yours to make. I did not commission it. I am sitting for him as a favour.’
Again Gabriel stopped abruptly, and again Colette pulled herself back from knocking into him.
He must have misunderstood. ‘Pardon me?’
‘I said that portrait is being painted with the intention for exhibition to show the breadth of his skills as an artist.’
‘And you agreed to be his model? Why would you agree to such a thing? That portrait is indecent.’
She snorted. His refined wife actually snorted at his statement. ‘You are one to say what is indecent?’
They were turning onto Bond Street, bustling with servants and members of the ton. He was aware they were garnering attention simply by walking together. The last thing he needed was gossip about this argument—and this was going to be an argument. She was much too stubborn for it not to be.
He directed his attention ahead of him. ‘We will
