Eye of the Beholder (7 page)

Her kiss was untried but eager, and her hands
coursed over his body as her tongue stroked his lips and inside his
mouth. He curved his hands around her back, intending to push her
away, to deal with the ramifications of her discovery, but she
coursed her palm down the front of his shirt to close over his cock
through his trousers.

“I thought about doing this all day
yesterday,” she said, breaking the kiss to focus on unfastening his
trousers, smoothing her palm over his erect sex before he could
gather his thoughts to help her. “So different.”

“From what?” he managed as she closed her
fist around him, and he couldn’t resist pumping against her hand.
What did she mean she’d thought about doing this all day yesterday?
That she knew? She couldn’t possibly know. But the thought left his
head as she squeezed.

“Lily had a dildo, but she showed me what to
do, showed me where you were sensitive.”

Just hearing the forbidden word on her lips
made him nearly spill his seed. Instead, she lowered her mouth to
brush over the head of him, her fist sliding up and down his
length. He’d never had a woman know so much, and she learned from
her maid, on a dildo. He watched as she opened her mouth around
him, her hair spilling against his hips, and her tongue shyly
touching the underside of his cock. When he sucked in his breath
and arched his hips, she gained confidence, stroking more surely
with her tongue and hand. She took a deep breath, and opened her
mouth wider to take more of him into the hot cavern of her mouth,
and Christ, it was all he could do not to grab the back of her head
as he lifted his hips toward her and climaxed in her mouth.

She made a sound of surprise and started to
back off before she stopped herself and closed her mouth around
him, swallowing his seed.

His entire body tingled as she sat back on
her knees, lips swollen and glistening, eyes dark with a womanly
pleasure.

“I was given to understand it would take more
effort on my part.”

“If I hadn’t been fantasizing about you for
weeks, it might have.” He looped his arm around her waist and drew
her against his side. He knew he should talk about her discovery,
but his brain hadn’t reformed just yet. “A dildo? Your maid has a
dildo?”

“I don’t believe it’s for her own pleasure.
She said she doesn’t care for cocks.”

Would this woman ever stop surprising him?
“Dominic seemed to believe she did.”

“She said she did that so he wouldn’t want to
put his cock in her.”

Grayson toyed with her hair. “You do know
proper young ladies don’t use such words. Or wonder about such
acts.”

“And proper young men don’t paint such
things. Or teach proper young ladies the correct terms.”

“No one may know, Sarah,” he said
solemnly.

“Of course I understand. Whose reputation
would suffer more, yours for painting or mine for posing?” She
played with the opening of his shirt and slipped one of the buttons
from its mooring, dipping her fingertips inside to play with his
chest hair.

“I’ve maintained your anonymity in the
paintings. No one will know. I need the same assurance from
you.”

She lifted startled eyes to his. “Of course I
will keep your secret. We both have much to lose.”

“You don’t seem too concerned about your
reputation.”

She drew in a sharp breath and sat up. “I
served your purpose, then,” she said stiffly, reaching for her
discarded chemise.

“You came to me,” he reminded her, turning on
his side toward her. “You did everything I asked of you. I wonder
how eager you are to shock your mother by revealing what you’ve
done here.”

She whirled on him. “Is that what you think I
am? A rebellious girl?”

He motioned to the sketches, wondering at his
need to push her away. He’d already gotten too close, risked too
much, revealed too much. Did he risk her retribution by pursuing
this argument? The thought came a second after he said, “I have
evidence in front of me.”

For a moment she was perfectly still, then
she started trembling all over and tears filled her eyes. His heart
tugged and he sat up to reach for her but she’d turned away to
dress. He let his hand fall to his side on the bed, feeling the
warmth from her body, wanting her back in his arms and unsure how
to get her there, now that he’d so effectively chased her off.
Instead, he watched her dress, and not even completely at that,
before she fled.

***

The chances of getting into the house without
her mother seeing her were slim. Sarah’s hair was hastily pinned up
by Lily in Grayson’s kitchen, her eyes were red-rimmed from the
tears she’d shed on her way home, and she had left her stockings
behind in her haste. No, she did not want her mother to see her
like this.

“Just tell her you are unwell,” Lily
suggested when Sarah hesitated on the doorstep. Lily had not asked
one question about Sarah’s distress, but she knew her mother would,
unwell or not.

“Perhaps you can distract her while I slip
upstairs,” Sarah said hopefully.

“Not if she does not want to be distracted,”
Lily replied.

That was true. “At least draw her away from
the entrance so I can slip upstairs and straighten up before she
sees me. How am I going to get myself together for the ball
tonight?”

“Tell your mother you are unwell,” Lily
repeated.

“Grayson might be there.” Was she some kind
of glutton, wanting to see a man who had no emotion for her?

“What happened back there?”

Sarah shook her head, not trusting herself to
speak.

“All right, I’ll find your mother. I’ll be
upstairs in a bit to help you.”

Sarah shook her head again. “I don’t want—I
just need to be alone and think.”

“Did he make love to you?”

She shook her head again. “No. No. I wanted
him to, and he turned it against me. I just—I need to be alone.
Please. Go. Find my mother.”

Sarah waited a moment after Lily ducked into
the house, then hurried for the stairs, not looking left or right,
just needing to get—

“Sarah, are you all right?” her mother’s
voice called from the parlor.

Sarah froze halfway up the stairs, wishing
she knew swear words to mutter under her breath. She smoothed her
hands over the front of her dress, then her hair, and willed tears
from her eyes before she turned toward the parlor.

Where her mother sat with Mrs. Sawyer and her
daughter Juliet. Lovely.

Sarah forced a smile and moved back down the
stairs to stop in the doorway. “Good afternoon.”

“Please come join us,” her mother said, with
a touch of steel beneath the gentle request.

“I’m not feeling quite the thing, Mother. I
need to go lie down.”

Her mother rose and inspected her critically.
Please, please don’t let her see the truth
.

“You do look ill, Sarah. Were you not dressed
warmly enough today?”

The question almost surprised a giggle out of
her. She had been completely undressed not an hour before. “That
must be it. I’ve caught a chill. I would not wish for anyone else
to suffer, so I must excuse myself. Mrs. Sawyer, Juliet, please
forgive me.”

She stood on shaking legs waiting for her
mother’s permission to take her leave. Finally her mother nodded
and she turned and fled, never so grateful in her life to be
alone.

***

She knew her mother would check on her as
soon as her company left, so she undressed quickly, bathed in the
warm bowl of water Lily brought her, ignoring the girl’s curious
expression, put on her nightclothes and crawled into bed. She
wanted to give into the tears clogging her throat but didn’t want
to risk the need to explain them to her mother.

Why was she giving this man this power over
her? She had made her choice, and she never expected him to judge
her on it, but of course he would. He would judge her decision and
her curiosity and her willingness to do things no unmarried woman
would know about. Everyone would judge her if they knew. But his
judgment felt like a betrayal.

As expected, her mother knocked on the door a
short time later and walked in without waiting for an invitation.
Sarah remained in bed in the darkened room, but her mother would
have none of that. Instead she walked to the windows and pushed
open the curtains before approaching the bed and touching Sarah’s
head with her palm.

“You are not warm. Are you sure you have
chills?”

“I cannot seem to get warm, and I have a
headache.” From holding back her tears, but her mother didn’t need
to know that.

“I suppose this is a way to get out of going
to the Locke’s ball tonight?”

“I do not mind going to the ball. If I rest,
perhaps I’ll feel more up to it.”

Her mother regarded her for a moment. “There
is more you aren’t telling me.”

“No. There isn’t.”

Her mother hesitated, then said, “I’ll send
Lily up with some soup, and will check back in a few hours.”

She nodded gratefully and closed her eyes
before her mother closed the door.

***

Sarah’s headache lingered as she stood at the
edge of the dance floor, but she was too anxious to see Grayson
again to use her headache as an excuse to stay home. She scanned
the crowd to no avail. He hadn’t come. He wouldn’t come—why would
he? And she was a fool, the worst kind of fool for putting her
hopes, her beliefs in a man.

But hiding in her room would give him too
much power. So she danced and smiled and for some reason she
attracted more partners than usual. Her mother was happy, so Sarah
pretended to be happy, and for a little while, she forgot all about
Grayson Adams.

But when she went home she cried herself to
sleep.

***

“You’re not going out anymore,” her mother
commented over breakfast a few days later.

“I’m still not feeling quite myself.”

“Who broke your heart?”

Sarah snapped her gaze to her mother’s. “No
one. Of course, no one.”

“Grayson Adams.”

“No.”

“He asked to be introduced, he took you
riding, and nothing else? What happened on the ride?”

“Apparently I didn’t charm him enough.”

“And everyone saw you together. Everyone is
asking why he hasn’t been to any of the balls since, as if I would
know. But whatever it was didn’t happen on the ride, it happened
the day after. When you came home upset.”

“No, this has nothing to do with Grayson
Adams.”

Her mother sat back, lips pressed together.
“I know a broken heart when I see it.”

“No. I didn’t even know him well enough to
let him break my heart.”

“Miss Dusenberry,” the maid interrupted,
walking into the breakfast room carrying a large box. “This just
came for you.”

Sarah was on her feet before she could think.
“What is it?”

“It’s from Madame Ariana’s Modiste.”

Sarah frowned. “I haven’t ordered anything
from her in months.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten. Open it. I want to
see,” her mother said as Sarah took the box and placed it on the
end of the table.

Sarah didn’t need encouragement. She tugged
at the ribbon holding the box closed and opened the box with
reverence to reveal a deep blue evening gown in the finest silk,
trimmed with embroidered ribbon instead of the lace that usually
trimmed her dresses, leaving this one with a sleek, elegant look.
She smoothed her hands over the fabric before lifting it by the
shoulders to see that instead of puffy sleeves, these were fitted
to the elbow to flare in a fall-away style.

“Why would you order such a color? That is
not in fashion at all,” her mother said, rising to stand beside
her.

“I didn’t,” Sarah breathed, knowing before
she opened the enclosed card.

I’ll see you Friday. MC
.

Her heart skipped a beat, then she gathered
the dress and hurried upstairs to try it on. Lily followed to
help.

The dress fit like a dream, molding to her
body, not needing all the petticoats that were usually in fashion.
In fact it skimmed over her hips and belly, all one piece instead
of the separate bodice that was the current style.

“How did he know my size?” she asked Lily as
she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

“Dominic asked me to tell him.”

“So you knew.”

“I didn’t know it would be something so
unique. It will certainly stand out.”

Sarah paused and drew her lower lip between
her teeth. “I wish I didn’t have to wait until Friday to wear
it.”

Lily’s eyebrows went up. “I know where you
can wear it tonight, if you can slip away from your mother.
Monsieur Cresson has an art show tonight.”

Chapter Six

Sarah shivered outside of the art gallery and
pulled her wrap tighter about herself, though the temperature was
mild. Her nerves were on edge. She had pled a headache and said she
was going to bed, only to dress and slip out with Lily’s help. The
maid had a hackney waiting at the corner and Sarah had run to it.
Now she stood in front of the gallery and wondered what she’d
done.

She lifted her chin. She’d come this far. She
wasn’t running away now.

She mounted the steps into the gallery,
wishing for once that she had a friend, someone she could have
trusted to come with her.

She was unprepared to see so many familiar
faces as she entered the gallery. She hadn’t realized so many high
society people would be here. Her mother would certainly hear about
this tomorrow. She stiffened in anticipation of what her punishment
would be.

She smiled and scanned the room for Grayson,
her attention caught by the paintings on the wall, all done in soft
colors. She could understand how he managed to display them—the
details, while precise, were not obvious. She stopped in front of
one done in blues and lavenders, an amazingly erotic painting, so
finely detailed, and she felt a blush stain her cheeks.