Read The Education of Mrs. Brimley for Free Online Page A

gaze skimmed the bare shoulders and slipped past the trim midriff, focusing instead on the forbidden area between the man’s muscular legs—that very spot deemed improper for virginal eyes.
    Her lips parted in surprise.
    “Why, it’s so small. I believe I could cover it with one hand.” As if to prove her theory, she stretched her hand, base to tip. Although she wasn’t exactly sure what she had expected, this appendage hadn’t the menacing character alluded to in so many poems. Disappointed, she turned to Chambers.
    “Why is there so much commotion over two small potatoes in a twisted sack?”
    Chambers’s eyes crinkled, his amusement at her inexperience evident. “This man is flaccid. An aroused man looks much different.”
    “Can you show me?” she asked.
    He nearly choked. “You wish to see my manhood?”
    “I thought you might have another picture.” Emma’s cheeks burned at her blunder, although she was shocked to realize a small part of her wished to answer in the affirmative. She pushed her spectacles up her nose trying to think prim, innocent thoughts.
    “I need to let the girls know what to expect.”
    His lips thinned a moment before he pivoted smartly using the stick and retreated to his easel. Derision filled his voice. “I assure you I have no interest in retaining pictures of aroused men in my studio, in my house, or on my person.”
    “You are an artist,” she insisted, not willing to let the opportunity pass. “Perhaps you can create a drawing for me, purely for scientific purposes, of course.”
    “A drawing?” He scowled, his gaze skipping from the easel to her face. He must have seen her sincerity, because the scowl softened as he returned his attention to the easel. Was that a twinkle she saw in his eye? A sly smile chased away his disdain.
    “Miss Brimley, you may recall that the girl I hired to pose for me has not materialized.”
    She nodded. “Indeed, you thought I was she earlier.”
    “You have need of information, and I have need of a model.” He smiled, reassuring her that his moment of displeasure had indeed passed.
    Her hopes lifted.
    “Perhaps we can design an agreement,” he continued, “that will satisfy both our desires.”
    “You wish to paint my portrait?” Pleasure rippled through her. Great ladies had portraits painted. She could bend to this arrangement, especially if it required more time in his presence.
    “I wish to paint you naked.” A devilish smile played about his lips. “But I’ll settle for painting you in a thin gown.”
    “Sir!” Shock paralyzed her. “Surely, you don’t mean it!”
    He positioned himself in front of her. “In exchange for information,” he added.
    “I’ve never been so insulted.” She tried to step around him, but he continued to hinder her exit. Again she regretted the absence of her fan. She would have thrashed him with it.
    “What kind of woman do you take me for?” she cried, frustrated at his efforts to thwart her.
    “A comely one, I suspect, beneath all that black.” Using the tip of his walking stick, he lifted the hem of her skirt an inch off the ground.
    “Sir!” Shocked, she slapped the material back in place. The man was incredulous.
    A bemused grin played about his mouth. He was playing with her, she realized, feeling the stab of disappointment. She had fooled herself into thinking this dandy was different, yet it was all mockery. Pain burrowed deep.
    “I refuse to be the subject of your jest.” Her lips tightened, her eyes burned. She tried to push by him, but he caught her arm.
    “There is no jest.”
    If only that were true! She looked away, afraid he might see the yearning in her eyes. Her throat tightened making words difficult. “If you meant to compliment me, I assure you—”
    “I meant no compliment.”
    Her head swung around, capturing his gaze. His brow lifted. “I was merely stating facts.”
    His ridiculous statement confirmed the joke. She jerked her arm from his grasp and