Nicole Jordan (21 page)

He might be making a mistake, Thorne knew, but he wanted to see Diana alone. It had been too long since he had sparred with her, since he had won her smile, since he had touched her.

When he was shown up to her studio by her housekeeper, Thorne found Diana standing before her easel, wearing a paint-spattered smock and holding a palette in one hand and a brush in the other.

His heart quickened at her smile of greeting. She seemed genuinely glad to see him, but she asked for a few more moments to finish a difficult shadow and requested her housekeeper to send up tea and wine for Lord Thorne.

While he waited, Thorne inspected the various canvases that lined the walls of the huge room. There were dozens he hadn’t seen before, ranging from breathtaking to powerful to quietly poignant. He spent a good ten minutes marveling.

The academy had evidently returned some of Diana’s paintings to her, for he recognized two of them, but he didn’t know if that was a good sign or bad.

“No further word from Sir George about your admittance?” Thorne asked when Diana finally declared the shadow vanquished and gave him her attention.

“No, none,” she replied as she put up her instruments. “I am trying not to dwell on it.”

He indicated a portrait of an old man, stooped and bent. The luminous glow of his age-lined face held an inner strength that brought to mind a work by Rembrandt.

“You simply amaze me,” Thorne said with genuine awe in his tone.

“Thank you. He was one of my uncle’s tenant farmers.”

“Did you ever finish my portrait?”

“No, I haven’t had time.”

Her swift answer made him glance across the room at Diana. She seemed a bit flustered by his question, he noted as she removed her smock to reveal an afternoon gown of jonquil muslin.

When she moved closer, he also noticed the streak of crimson paint on her cheek, but refrained from reaching up to wipe it away, deciding not to test his fortitude by touching her.

“To what do I owe the honor of your call, Thorne? I expected to see you in a few hours.” They were to attend a dinner this evening, with cards and dancing afterward, since Lady Hennessy wished Amy and Cecily to practice their dance steps as much as possible before the ball soon to be held in their honor.

“I came to inform you of our change in plans for this evening. We’ll be attending Almack’s instead. And I thought you might like to hear how our scheme to defeat Reginald Kneighly is progressing.”

Diana’s eyes widened at both his revelations—but just then the housekeeper returned with a footman, both bearing trays laden with a hearty tea, including scones and crumpets with butter and jam.

With a warning glance at Thorne, Diana waited until the trays were deposited on the table near the hearth before inviting him to join her. It was mid-April, but the vast studio was chill enough to require a fire. Arranged in front of the cheerful blaze was a pleasant sitting area with two armchairs and a chaise longue—for the comfort of Diana’s subjects, Thorne suspected.

They were alone and settled in the two armchairs before Diana spoke again. Most any other lady he knew would have quizzed him eagerly about Almack’s, but she went straight to the subject of Kneighly.

“So tell me what happened,” she said as she poured. “Did you speak to Venus, and did she agree?”

“Yes to both questions.” He gave her an abbreviated account of his conversation with Venus, and the madam’s promise to have one of her Cyprians seduce Kneighly with the goal of dividing him from Amy.

“It seems to be working,” Thorne remarked, taking a bite of a warm crumpet.

“How do you know?”

“Because I am having Kneighly followed. I know every move he’s made during the past week. He has become quite enamored of the lovely Kitty in the short time since she contrived an introduction. In fact, he spent the last two nights at her apartments, no doubt in her bed.”

Diana stared, before shaking her head in exasperated amusement. “I was wrong. You are
beyond
devious. You truly set your minions to spy on him?”

“And on Amy, as well. For her own protection, of course.”

“Of course.” Diana’s smile faded. “Have there been any more clandestine meetings between her and Kneighly?”

“Not a one. Kitty is keeping him too well occupied.”

“Good. I have tried to keep Amy busy every waking hour. And I’ve attempted to keep a close watch on her without appearing to. She doesn’t seem to have noticed her suitor’s defection yet, if indeed he is defecting. I suppose because she is swept up in the excitement of her comeout, with the Season having officially started this week, and the ball Lady Hennessy is holding for both girls in less than a fortnight.”

“Let us hope Amy remains distracted until our plan succeeds,” Thorne replied.

“Speaking of success…are you making any headway in your investigation into Nathaniel’s death?”

Thorne’s good humor faded. “Some,” he prevaricated.

“Then you have managed to question Venus?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You told me you needed a means of getting close to her without rousing her suspicions, so you could probe her relationship with Nathaniel.”

“So?”

“So, if you haven’t yet succeeded, I have an idea I wish to discuss with you.”

The uncustomary hesitancy in Diana’s tone sent warning bells off in his mind. “Why do I have the feeling I won’t like what you have to say?”

“Probably because you won’t like it. I have been thinking about how I could help your investigation.”

“I don’t require your help—” Thorne began before Diana held up a hand.

“Hear me out, will you? I attended you when you made your outrageous proposal for our betrothal, didn’t I?”

Thorne crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well, I’m listening.”

“I want to offer to paint your Madam Venus.”

His eyebrow shot up sharply, but with effort he refrained from automatically rejecting her idea. “Why the devil would you want to paint her?”

“Because it could be the perfect way to get close to her without arousing her suspicions.”

“If you alight on Venus’s doorstep with an outlandish proposition like that, you will do nothing
but
arouse her suspicions.”

Diana shook her head. “I don’t believe so. I can use any number of reasons for approaching her. I can thank her for luring Kneighly away from my cousin Amy, for one. Or I could say I need a new model for a portrait to impress the British Academy…. I’m certain we could devise some excuse that Venus would accept. And if she has an ounce of vanity, she will be flattered by my request.”

“But what aim would it serve?”

“If I become her portraitist, she is likely to tell me things she would never tell another soul. It is a strange phenomenon, Thorne. People tend to lose their inhibitions when they sit for an artist, and they often divulge intimate confidences, much as they would to their confessor. And even if Venus proves to be less garrulous than usual, I would have the opportunity to ask her questions that would seem impertinent under any other circumstance.”

She did have a point, Thorne reflected. What better way to delve into Venus’s secrets and learn about her past than to inveigle her into a setting that naturally fostered conversation? Diana could perhaps even discover Venus’s last name, or where she had been raised before she suddenly appeared at Mme Fouchet’s sin club….

But he didn’t want Diana involved. She could be putting herself in danger if Venus was truly a traitor in league with French spies.

“It’s out of the question,” Thorne said, snatching at the first excuse that came to him. “We have taken care to present you to the ton as a picture of propriety. Painting the portrait of a notorious madam will only belie our efforts and could further damage your reputation.”

“My reputation is hardly lily white, true, but for once that can work to my advantage. Just think of it, Thorne. Venus is more likely to accept my offer simply
because
of the scandal in my past. And I could get by with attending her sin club when most other ladies could not.”

“You are not attending any sin club,” Thorne said emphatically. “Most especially Venus’s.”

Diana narrowed her gaze at his proprietary tone. “It can be accomplished in secret then, at my studio. No one even need know she is posing for me. Thorne, please. I could help you—I’m certain of it.”

He tried again. “I am accustomed to working alone.”

Her glance showed her skepticism even before she said dryly, “I very much doubt that that is true. You just told me you rely on spies to keep you informed. I’m sure in your work with the Foreign Office, you call upon quite a number of sources.”

Thorne remained mute, which only increased Diana’s frustration. “I don’t see why you won’t let me assist you.”

“It could be too dangerous for you,” he answered honestly. “I’m not about to put you at risk.”

“You could set your spies to watch us, so that I am not in any danger.”

Again she had a point. He wanted to keep Diana safe. But there was such a thing as going too far in his desire to shelter her. He could be allowing his very protectiveness to get in the way of his investigation. If Diana were anyone else, he would allow her to help; no, he would
welcome
her help. Diana was clever enough to be a match even for the sharp-witted Venus.

She was also feisty and brave enough to put herself in harm’s way for her late cousin’s sake. He admired that about her, Thorne reflected. Not that he would tell her so.

“You are treating me as if I am a fragile, incompetent female,” she protested when he didn’t answer.

He smiled unwillingly, knowing he was guilty as charged, but he turned aside her complaint. “No, I am treating you as if you were a nosy, interfering female, which you are.”

She met his gaze with muted belligerence, obviously determined not to be bullied. “Thorne, I want to feel as if I’m helping to achieve justice for Nathaniel.” Setting down her teacup, she rose to her feet. “If you refuse me, I may have to take matters into my own hands.”

He stood also. “What do you mean?”

“I can always approach Venus without your permission.”

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

When Diana started to turn away, Thorne reached out to grasp her arm, intent on stopping her. Instantly she stiffened, tilting her chin up and staring at him in defiance.

Even that brief contact set off a spark of heat between them. The heat, combined with the challenge in her gaze, was too much for Thorne to resist. He knew he was going to kiss her; he couldn’t help himself.

He also knew the moment Diana realized his intention, for her eyes instinctively widened.

The air around them shimmered with sudden sexual awareness as he stepped closer.

Nine

A
larm flooded
Diana as he fitted his palm to her nape.

“Thorne…” she managed to say in a breathless rasp.

“Hush, sweetheart.”

She watched him, unable to move. Doubtless he was attempting to distract her from her goal, and yet desire had darkened his eyes. The same desire that was suddenly flooding her. She couldn’t make herself draw away, even though she knew how dangerous it would be to let him kiss her.

His head was bending, his sensual mouth descending, and then it was too late. Thorne claimed her lips, cutting off any further protest. Sensation flashed through her with enough force to leave her knees weak.

She wanted to resist, but his hand reached up behind her head, grasping the knot of her chignon, his fingers twisting in her hair possessively, holding her immobile.

When Diana whimpered at the scalding pressure of his mouth, his kiss softened the slightest degree and became more beguiling. Her body jolted with the erotic touch of his tongue against hers.

Thorne must have felt her reaction, for he made a sound deep in his throat like a growl. “God, I want you.”

The hunger in his voice made her limbs even weaker. And when he tightened his arms about her and pulled her hard against him, her head spun at the passionate intensity of his assault. Diana found herself clinging to him, melting.

For a long moment, his lips devoured hers. Then suddenly he bent and scooped her up in his arms. He kept on kissing her, ruthlessly, deliberately, as he turned and sank down with her onto the chaise longue, so that she was cradled on his lap, his arm supporting her back.

With the last vestiges of her sanity, Diana pushed at his chest. “Thorne, stop! You are only trying to distract me.”

“Not entirely,” he rasped, his lips still hotly savoring hers. “I’ve wanted to do this for days…to drive you mad the way you have done to me.”

Unerringly his hand found the apex of her thighs beneath her gown. Through her muslin skirts, his fingers pressed against her mound, creating a delicious friction across her most sensitive flesh. Diana gasped at the incredible sensation.

At her response, Thorne raised his head a few inches and smiled down at her. “Did you do as I told you and learn to touch yourself?”