Read The Art of Love for Free Online

resolve to treat him as a brother or a cousin had fallen in tatters at her feet. ‘Don’t listen to me,’ she said hastily. ‘I’m always asking impertinent question and they should be treated as utterly inconsequential. May I see what you have done?’
    ‘Of course, Lady Tara,’ with his sudden retreat into formality she sensed that she had somehow insulted him, but he stood back so that she could look at his work.
    She stepped forward, prepared to tell him that what he was drawn was very good but looking at it took all words away. It was good, it was a very good sketch, but what made her speechless was that although the woman in the picture was undeniably herself, he had made her beautiful. Tara thought of her face as strong, commanding even, and she knew she had no difficulty in attracting men, but she had never seen herself as beautiful.
    ‘I don’t really look like that,’ she said at last. Fosse was a very talented artist, he must depict all his subjects that way, she thought, clearly identifiable, but far more beautiful than they really were. No wonder his work was so much in demand.
    ‘Yes, you do,’ Fosse said, his voice sounding unexpectedly harsh, ‘I have drawn you exactly as I see you.’
    There was a knock on the door and Tara jumped as it flew open and Fosse steadied her with his hand on her bare arm. Rodney came in.
    ‘This time next week,’ Fosse drawled. ‘Bring her back for another sitting.
    ‘Good, good,’ Rodney said. ‘May I see what you have done?’
    Fosse stepped forward defensively. ‘I never let clients see a work in progress,’ he said bluntly.
    ‘But…’
    ‘Good day to you, Hulme, Lady Tara.’ Fosse escorted them firmly out of his studio and as he closed the door behind them Tara found herself wondering how she would occupy all the hours until Tuesday next week.
     
    Leo however had no such qualms. It was time, he decided, high time he re-entered society properly. He went to his wardrobe and flung it open. A couple of his old military jackets hung there, their tarnished buttons glinting at him dully in the afternoon light. He once would have donned one without hesitation, knowing he would be accepted in all circles in such attire, but he had been out of the army for too long to dress in that way any more. The black coat he had worn to Freddie’s the other evening was timeless, but his small collection of cravats looked crumpled and old. Tomorrow morning he would visit Bond Street and update his appearance he decided. Meanwhile he would write a note to Freddie asking if he could join his party at Lord Carlshot’s ball. He was not personally acquainted with Lord Carlshot, but at such occasions a man of marriageable age and good background was always welcome. Despite the demise of his estate, Leo knew that his title was sufficient to open any door for him.
    His desire to re-enter society was not motivated by any wish to get to know Lady Tara better, Leo assured himself firmly. It was simply that meeting her had reminded him of the pleasant aspects of getting out and about and seeing old friends. Also it would be amusing to see how her charade with Hulme and Freddie played out, but he had no wish to become involved in it himself, none at all.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    Tara knew that a lot of her friends would be at the ball that night. Lord Carlshot did not possess the house with the biggest ballroom in London, nor did he provide the most lavish of suppers, but there were a multitude of rooms easily accessible from the ballroom, all of which would be set up for cards or furnished for gossip; the principal pastimes of her set would be well catered for.
    She arrived by herself at the ball as usual, instructed the driver to return at midnight and went inside.
    ‘My darling, you look simply splendid,’ a warm, slightly inebriated voice called as she stepped into the ballroom. Tara located the speaker and waved.
    ‘So do you, darling,’ she said to a tall man in military