sure.
‘Lady Tara has particularly luxuriant hair,’ Leo said neutrally. ‘I must paint it in the original.’ Luxuriant, Tara had always thought of her thick mane of dark hair, currently wound round the crown of her head and tumbling down her shoulders, as wild, but perhaps Leo was right, perhaps it was luxuriant.
‘Tara, will next Tuesday suit you?’ Rodney asked her, raising his eyebrows. Tara wondered if the pointed use of her given name was to remind Leo that he was not entitled to use it himself. Then she chided herself for her suspicion, Rodney had never struck her as complicated in the past. Yet something about his manner seemed different from the carefree attitude he had shown when he had left her alone with Leo just two hours earlier.
Tara glanced at Leo, whether Rodney meant anything by it or not she wasn’t going to play the high handed game of assuming Leo had nothing better to do with his time than be at their beck and call. But Leo simply looked at her, waiting for her answer. Absurdly Tara felt disappointed. Had she really expected him to protest wildly that next Tuesday was far too far away and that he must see her again tomorrow at the latest? Desperately she tried to squash down such imaginings before they could show on her face, but she feared from the sudden quirk of Leo’s eyebrows that she was too late.
‘Of course, next Tuesday will suit me perfectly,’ she said a little too firmly. She knew she must put Leo from her mind. She had nearly kissed him and now he was looking at her with no more than the polite interest that a craftsman showed a client. All that had nearly transpired must be in her imagination, she had to put him from her mind before she behaved scandalously and ruined her own reputation.
With no more than a nod to Leo she swept out, aware of Rodney hastily gathering up his parcel and following in her wake. She was also aware that Leo had done no more than collect up his brushes ready to clean them.
‘I have something for you.’ Rodney had handed her into the phaeton then joined her there, and Tara’s heart sank at his words as she looked at the large parcel which he now proffered. She had been so sure after Lord Carlshot’s ball that Rodney had set his sights elsewhere that she had relaxed, thinking herself quite safe, but apparently she was wrong.
‘You shouldn’t…’ she started to demure, but it was really too late, if she wanted Rodney to believe she wasn’t prepared to accept gifts from him she should never have agreed to have her portrait painted for him in the first place. He placed the parcel, light despite its size, on her lap and she realized it would be churlish to reject it now.
Trying to mask her lack of enthusiasm, Tara unwrapped his present, and despite her misgivings she could not restrain an exclamation of delight. He had given her a carriage hat, in cream muslin, trimmed with artificial marigolds and gold ribbon, it really was very pretty and she knew it would suit her beautifully. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you.
‘You’re welcome,’ Rodney looked very pleased with the success of his gift.
‘It is a very unexpected gift,’ Tara said, fishing. ‘I had no idea you had such good taste.’ Not subtle, but then neither was Rodney. She tied the bonnet on and let him admire it.
‘I had a little advice,’ Rodney said and she saw the faintest blush creep into his jaw just above his neck cloth.
‘Oh?’ she asked, and let the question linger as he gathered up the reins and gave the horses a flick.
‘I bumped into a… friend in Bond Street,’ Rodney said. ‘She happened to be looking at a milliner’s wares.’
Had he run into Lady Susannah? Tara fervently hoped so, yet if he had, surely he had not thought to impress her by buying a hat for another lady? She shook her head slightly; there must be more to it than that. Perhaps Lady Susannah had been accompanied by a gentleman, or was Rodney playing some elaborate game in
‘Lady Tara has particularly luxuriant hair,’ Leo said neutrally. ‘I must paint it in the original.’ Luxuriant, Tara had always thought of her thick mane of dark hair, currently wound round the crown of her head and tumbling down her shoulders, as wild, but perhaps Leo was right, perhaps it was luxuriant.
‘Tara, will next Tuesday suit you?’ Rodney asked her, raising his eyebrows. Tara wondered if the pointed use of her given name was to remind Leo that he was not entitled to use it himself. Then she chided herself for her suspicion, Rodney had never struck her as complicated in the past. Yet something about his manner seemed different from the carefree attitude he had shown when he had left her alone with Leo just two hours earlier.
Tara glanced at Leo, whether Rodney meant anything by it or not she wasn’t going to play the high handed game of assuming Leo had nothing better to do with his time than be at their beck and call. But Leo simply looked at her, waiting for her answer. Absurdly Tara felt disappointed. Had she really expected him to protest wildly that next Tuesday was far too far away and that he must see her again tomorrow at the latest? Desperately she tried to squash down such imaginings before they could show on her face, but she feared from the sudden quirk of Leo’s eyebrows that she was too late.
‘Of course, next Tuesday will suit me perfectly,’ she said a little too firmly. She knew she must put Leo from her mind. She had nearly kissed him and now he was looking at her with no more than the polite interest that a craftsman showed a client. All that had nearly transpired must be in her imagination, she had to put him from her mind before she behaved scandalously and ruined her own reputation.
With no more than a nod to Leo she swept out, aware of Rodney hastily gathering up his parcel and following in her wake. She was also aware that Leo had done no more than collect up his brushes ready to clean them.
‘I have something for you.’ Rodney had handed her into the phaeton then joined her there, and Tara’s heart sank at his words as she looked at the large parcel which he now proffered. She had been so sure after Lord Carlshot’s ball that Rodney had set his sights elsewhere that she had relaxed, thinking herself quite safe, but apparently she was wrong.
‘You shouldn’t…’ she started to demure, but it was really too late, if she wanted Rodney to believe she wasn’t prepared to accept gifts from him she should never have agreed to have her portrait painted for him in the first place. He placed the parcel, light despite its size, on her lap and she realized it would be churlish to reject it now.
Trying to mask her lack of enthusiasm, Tara unwrapped his present, and despite her misgivings she could not restrain an exclamation of delight. He had given her a carriage hat, in cream muslin, trimmed with artificial marigolds and gold ribbon, it really was very pretty and she knew it would suit her beautifully. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you.
‘You’re welcome,’ Rodney looked very pleased with the success of his gift.
‘It is a very unexpected gift,’ Tara said, fishing. ‘I had no idea you had such good taste.’ Not subtle, but then neither was Rodney. She tied the bonnet on and let him admire it.
‘I had a little advice,’ Rodney said and she saw the faintest blush creep into his jaw just above his neck cloth.
‘Oh?’ she asked, and let the question linger as he gathered up the reins and gave the horses a flick.
‘I bumped into a… friend in Bond Street,’ Rodney said. ‘She happened to be looking at a milliner’s wares.’
Had he run into Lady Susannah? Tara fervently hoped so, yet if he had, surely he had not thought to impress her by buying a hat for another lady? She shook her head slightly; there must be more to it than that. Perhaps Lady Susannah had been accompanied by a gentleman, or was Rodney playing some elaborate game in
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