Enticing Benedict Cole. Eliza Redgold

fusion that bound them together.

      Therein lay the difference. His other models, Maisie in particular, wanted him to stop working as soon as possible. Miss Ashe seemed to want him to go on, whilst drinking it all in with those violet eyes.

      He’d sensed her complete focus as he finished drawing her mouth, with its full upper lip, and at last began to get her pointed chin right. Then he’d known he could go no further. The high blue collar of her finely woven woollen dress was tight around her neck and he’d only been able to guess at the exact shape of her collarbones that, even beneath her dress, hinted at being delicate and fine. He’d had to see her bare neck, that beautiful slender neck. And then the delicate scent of violets had risen up as he dropped the cameo necklace against her pale skin of her throat...

      Damnation. He tore off his shirt and thrust his hands into the basin of water, splashing it against his face. He would resist her. Foundling, seamstress or governess, he had to subdue his curiosity, his need to know more. When she came for the next session he’d continue to paint her, but that was all.

      Time to get to work. It would be another long night.

Chapter Seven

      ‘Brothers in Art; a friendship so complete

      Portion’d in halves between us, that we grew.’

      —Alfred, Lord Tennyson:

      ‘The Gardener’s Daughter’

      Cameo turned the corner. Above her head the sign for the Lamb public house creaked as it swung in the breeze. The street was becoming so familiar to her: the crowds of people buying and selling their wares, the carriages and carts, the busy butcher’s shop, the bakery with the smell of warm fresh bread wafting from inside.

      Becky, the match girl, sat on the cobbles with her wares laid out beside her.