Read The Art of Sinning for Free Online

head so he wouldn’t see how very much the words pleased her.
    She’d swear that he meant every word. Then again, she’d also believed Lieutenant Ruston’s compliments, though they’d been far less original and far more dubious. At least Mr. Keane wasn’t calling her “a great beauty” and “a delicate flower.” She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for that last one. She’d never been delicate a day in her life.
    â€œBut your proportions are unlikely to signify, anyway,” he went on. “You’ll be lying down.”
    That arrested her. How had she forgotten he was a rogue? “Why would I be lying down?”
    He gazed at her as if she were witless. “Art sacrificed to Commerce? Were you even listening? Damn, woman, I can hardly show a sacrifice without laying you across an altar.”
    Stunned by his matter-of-fact tone, as if it were perfectly obvious to anyone with sense, she mumbled, “Oh, right, of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
    Actually, she did know. She thought him quite mad. When he spoke of his art, there was no trace of the rakehell in him. Was it by design? Was he trying to rattle her?
    Because he was certainly succeeding.
    â€œWill you do it?” he asked. “Assuming we can manage it?”
    â€œManaging it isn’t a problem,” she said, thinking aloud. “Artists doing portraits generally reside with the family during the process. So if you come to our estate for the portrait, we can arrange some way to meet for the painting you wish to do for yourself.” She slanted a glance at him. “If you’re willing to leave London for a bit, that is.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know.” He stopped beside a marble fountain to smile teasingly at her. “It would take me away from all those gaming hells and nunneries. However will I survive?”
    â€œI’m sure you can find a sympathetic tavern maid or two nearby to tide you over.”
    â€œSo, no nunneries in your neck of the woods?”
    â€œBelieve me, if there had been, my other brother would have found them ages ago.”
    When he looked at her oddly, a blush rose in her cheeks. She didn’t know why she’d mentioned Samuel’s proclivities. She couldn’t seem to put his request out of her mind.
    â€œI’ll be fine, I promise,” he said silkily. “Though you still haven’t given me your permission to paint you. For either work.”
    And suddenly it hit her—the solution to her problem with Samuel. She hadn’t sent the sealed letter, fearful that no one would call for it at the Covent Garden post office as promised, but perhaps she could still right Samuel’s wrong.
    â€œI haven’t, have I?” She stared him down. “Tell me something, Mr. Keane. Are you as willing to make a bargain with me for your painting as you were to make a bargain with Edwin for my portrait?”
    His gaze turned wary. “It depends. What sort of bargain do you mean?”
    Avoiding his gaze, she stirred the water in the fountain with one finger. “I will sit for you—clothed, of course. You may draw as many pictures of me as you please.”
    â€œAnd in exchange?” he prodded.
    â€œYou will find some way to get me inside a Covent Garden nunnery.”

Three
    Jeremy was shocked. Then intrigued. Then disturbed by the notion of Lady Yvette going anywhere near a den of iniquity.
    Not that he would let her see it. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. “You don’t need my help for that. Covent Garden is known for its enthusiastic acquisition of . . . er . . . nuns. Just walk in, and I’m sure they’ll welcome you with open arms.”
    Her outraged gaze shot to him. “I’m not aiming to be a Covent Garden nun, you devil!”
    He’d figured that, of course. He’d just wanted to spark that intoxicating fire in her eyes