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secret and not come to this revelation. However, given the nature of the requested assistance, she saw no escape. She lowered her gaze, as well as her tone. “There is no Mr. Brimley.”
    “You are a widow, are you not?”
    Even though she could not see his face, she could well imagine one of those dark eyebrows rising.
    She shook her head and waited for his reaction. Given her admission, he would be justified in demanding her departure. Without his assistance, she would have to admit her masquerade to the spinster sisters. She’d be back on her uncle’s doorstep in a matter of days.
    Chambers’s silence encouraged further explanation. She took a breath for courage.
    “In order to procure this position, I pretended to have been married. I had no idea I’d be expected to teach bedroom etiquette.” There. She had admitted her deceit. She should feel ashamed, she supposed, but telling the truth actually made her feel a bit better. She had never anticipated how physically taxing this burden of lies and deceit would be. She lifted her chin but still avoided his gaze. “I suppose you must think me devoid of all honor.”
    Chambers chuckled deep in his throat. “You do not wish to know my thoughts, Miss Brimley.”
    His voice, low and seductive, brought her gaze round to meet his. A dark, forbidden knowledge smoldered deep in his eyes, fueling a resonant response within her. For the first time, she recognized her vulnerability, alone with this man. Awareness tingled up her spine. She stepped back, gulping a swift intake of needed air.
    He chuckled deep in his throat. “Your secret is safe.” A slight smile tipped his lips before he turned his attention back to the drawing board. “The ladies at the school wouldn’t nay-say your instructions. Make something up. They won’t know the difference.”
    “But I don’t wish to lie to the girls,” she insisted. “They trust me to tell them the truth.” Granted she had already told more misrepresentations in the past two days than she had in her entire lifetime, but lying to the Higgins sisters was necessary. Lying to children, abominable. She glanced quickly about the room. “Haven’t you a painting or a picture in a book that might assist me?”
    He traded his piece of charcoal for his glass, considering her over the rim while he drank. He tilted his head slightly. “I may have something.”
    For the first time that evening, Emma felt a stirring of hope that this scandalous foray might yield positive results.
    Chambers slipped the knob of the walking stick under his left palm and moved toward a desk pushed against a back wall. He shifted through a clutter of papers.
    “I have a friend in Paris, Auguste Rodin, who created a bronze statute of a full-size nude male. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?” He looked back at her over his shoulder. “It caused quite a stir at exhibition.”
    She shook her head. Chambers’s awkward posture suggested he’d be more comfortable if he allowed his walking prop to bear more of his weight. His pride, she guessed, disagreed. Her heart softened. She understood a thing or two about pride.
    “Some time ago, Rodin sent a letter with a drawing . . . Yes, here it is.” He brought several pages of the letter over to the dais. Shifting through them, he produced the one with a detailed drawing of a male figure. “Just as you requested, a picture of a man as God made him.”
    Proper etiquette demanded she couldn’t acknowledge her observation regarding his altered gait. She couldn’t even ask how his condition occurred, although she’d admit to being curious. Accepting the offered paper, she hesitantly pulled her gaze from his broadening smile.
    She adjusted her glasses so as to see, then memorize, every detail. Anticipation fluttered in her chest. This, after all, constituted not only the purpose of her visit, but also the culmination of all the speculation of her youth.
    The drawing portrayed an athletic man, an Adonis, she supposed. Her