Olivia raised her head and stared at him aghast, unable to voice a response.
‘You must stop moving,’ he yelled. ‘This will be a masterpiece of movement and light. But each time you shift, you force me to readjust the folds of your gown. I cannot sketch you in a timely manner if I have to continually walk over there.’
She rested her head back down and tried to move her head into the exact position he had placed it. Manning readjusted it a fraction of an inch and then adjusted the hair cascading over her breasts.
He raised his eyebrow at her and pointed his chalk at her in warning. ‘Do. Not. Move.’
‘Fine, but I honestly do not believe anyone would be interested in seeing how I look after...well, after...’ Olivia was certain she could not blush any deeper than she was. ‘I am not the best subject for this. You should have asked someone younger. Men would find that much more enjoyable to look at.’
‘You believe you know us that well?’ The sketching resumed.
‘There are many beautiful girls you could have chosen.’
‘True—however, I am not interested in girls. Their innocence colours their sensuality. A woman with experience in the activities of the bedchamber has an innate sensuality that is apparent to any man over the age of sixteen.’
‘I am not sensual.’
‘Of course you are. It’s in the way your body moves and the way your eyes acquire a wicked glint, as if you know the secret of bringing a man to his knees.’ His voice was so calm and nonchalant.
‘So you really prefer women of my age?’
‘And older, but if you tell that to any of the young women that sit for me, I will deny it.’
Managing to laugh without moving a muscle, Olivia considered what he said. She had spent years after their estrangement wondering what Gabriel found attractive. The notion of what other men preferred never entered her mind.
* * *
When he finally broke the long stretch of silence, it felt as if hours had passed. ‘I am almost finished with my preliminary sketch. Have any parts of you lost all sensation?’
‘My right arm is beginning to grow numb. This really is an indulgent pose. I believe I may have dozed for a few moments.’
‘I believe you did. Your breathing became quite rhythmic.’
He approached her side, then rubbed her right arm. The warmth and pressure felt heavenly.
‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ bellowed a deep, angry voice from the other end of the room.
Olivia jerked her head towards the doorway and closed her eyes, pretending her husband was not standing there looking as if he wanted to toss them both out the window.
Manning groaned at her movement and stared daggers at the imposing man who had interrupted their sitting. ‘Who are you to intrude in my studio, sir?’ he asked.
‘I am her husband. Now take your damn hands off her.’ Gabriel’s voice was commanding with no room for negotiation.
Manning backed away, raising his hand in surrender. ‘I am simply adjusting her body for the portrait.’
‘I know of no respectable portrait that requires such a pose.’
She would not move her body to inconvenience her friend. ‘What are 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