Read Online How To Distract a Duchess by Mia Marlowe - Free Book Online Page A

She’d sensed danger seething about him, but would he truly do murder for her?
    He cocked his head. “I told you I have contacts on the low side of respectable, Your Grace.”
    She took a deep breath, trying to quell her rioting insides. “Very well. I thank you, Mr. Doverspike, for your help in preserving my honor. Now, if you will kindly get dressed and see yourself out. Please leave an address with Cuthbert where I can send the rest of your pay. I release you from my service.”
    “What? You haven’t finished the painting.”
    “No, and I never shall.” Tears pricked at her eyes again, but she blinked them back. “Please just go.”
    “Why?”
    “I think that’s painfully obvious. A line has been crossed, one that is inviolate between an artist and her subject.”
    “Just because I kissed you?”
    “Because I allowed you to kiss me. The fault is mine and you have my profoundest apologies, but I cannot continue to work with you.”
    “Rubbish,” he said. “You hold yourself to an impossible standard. Do you think for a moment the old masters of the canvas didn’t have more than a passing acquaintance with their subjects?”
    Her cheeks burned. She’d always suspected that was the case. How else did artists capture the expressions of longing and the knowing looks if there hadn’t truly been some ‘knowing’ going on?
    “Nevertheless, I must ask you to leave.”
    Mr. Doverspike’s mouth hardened into a tight line. “You’ll at least give me a good character, I hope.”
    “Certainly, I’ll be happy to write a general letter of reference and send it round with your pay.”
    “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I was hoping you’d introduce me to Mr. Beddington and recommend my services to him.”
    Beddington. Not again. She thought she’d deflected his interest in Mr. Beddington. “That is not something I’m at liberty to do.”
    “Seems to me you’re at liberty to do whatever you jolly well please, Your Grace.”
    “What could I possibly say to Mr. Beddington about your services? Here stands Thomas Doverspike. He takes off his clothes well and frightens members of the press witless.”
    “Hopefully not at the same time.”
    A laugh erupted from her lips. “No, I daresay. Not at the same time.”
    “And yet, I’ve taken my clothes off and frightened you witless, haven’t I?”   He took a step to close the distance between them.
    Fright wasn’t exactly the right word. Her insides jumped at his nearness, every pore in her body alive and tingling. She could still taste his kiss. She turned from him lest he see how difficult drawing a breath had become for her. “Please leave, Mr. Doverspike. I beg you.”
    She heard the soft pad of his bare feet on the hardwood and drew a sigh of relief. He was going. Then the sound of rustling pages made her turn around. The man was leafing through her sketchpad.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Just seeing what we’ve accomplished together here.” He turned the paper sideways and screwed his face into a frown. “Do I really look that ridiculous?”
    He pointed to one of the studies depicting him with the helmet and sword, chest puffed out, military bearing severely at odds with his nudity. It did seem a tad overdone to her now that she considered it afresh.
    He flipped the page. “Oh,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “This is what you were trying to do this morning.”
    “Yes.” It was her preliminary sketch of his reclined figure. There was tension in his shoulder muscles as her Mars leaned despairingly toward an unobtainable prize. “Mars is always depicted in military splendor, victorious and virile. I thought I’d take an entirely different tack on the subject. When two forces meet on a field of battle, one side is always declared the loser. This is the god of war in defeat.”
    “More often than not, both sides lose,” he said softly. “Of course, there are some battles that can’t be avoided. I’ve fought in a few. But most wars