Chapter Fourteen
Kitty was relieved to have slipped out the door without her sisters coming along. She knew it wasn’t proper for her to be strolling about without at least one of them, but a part of her wanted — needed the independent feeling that came with being on her own. At least for a time. Ever since she’d been little, it had given her a tiny thrill to be out alone, walking.
She carried the parcel she’d purchased from Lambert’s colorman’s store, careful not to bend the pages of the precious tome. The art instruction book was small enough that she could slip it inside her largest reticule for safe keeping. Her cousin had taught them the basics of drawing and painting, but there were times when Kitty felt the need for other advice.
Since they could not afford a private tutor for art, she occasionally found help in an instructional book. It pained her to have parted with even the small sum, but since it was something that she and her sisters could refer to time and time again, she desperately hoped Robert wouldn’t put up too much of a fuss.
The toe of her boot caught on a large stone, and she stumbled. Thankful to have only fallen on her knees and not her face, Kitty stood up and brushed off her skirt. Hopefully no one had witnessed her clumsiness or—
The unmistakable plod of horses’ hooves in dirt and the squeak of carriage wheels came from behind. “Say there! Miss Sullyard?”
Oh no…
Kitty smoothed down her wrinkled skirt and turned. It was the Bexley carriage. She hated to be caught in such a predicament, alone on a seldom used back road, but the thought of seeing Nathaniel again caused her heart to tumble madly about against her ribs.
As the carriage slowed and pulled up beside her, Kitty gulped. Stratford. Why did the cousins have to be so similar? Wishing she hadn’t gone on her quick errand alone, Kitty eyed the carriage. Stratford was driving. Where was his coachman?
He climbed down. He took his time looking at her, as if taking a lazy stroll. And then downward. A shiver ran across her back. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.
“I saw you stumble. Are you injured?” He took her hand, tugging her closer.
“I’m fine.”
“Pleased to hear it. I’d be quite upset if something happened to my special lady.”
What? She couldn’t have heard him correctly. He made it sound like—
“I was hoping to come across you, actually.”
“You were?” Out on this barely used back road?
“I stopped by your house and spoke to your sister Patience. She told me of your errand. She was even so kind as to tell me the route you normally take to the colorman’s shop.
“Did she? How sweet of her.” The fingers of Kitty’s other hand fidgeted wildly. How had Patience known what Kitty’s plans were? Did I say something and not realize? Talk in my sleep?
By now, Lydia had probably heard what Patience had done, guessing that Kitty could possibly be in Stratford’s company.
I’ll surely have another lecture from Lydia on my behavior when I return home. But today it’s Patience’s fault. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Bexley—”
“Stratford.”
Kitty let out a sigh. “Stratford. I can assure you, however, that I’m quite unharmed.” She hoped he’d be on his way. Too much time spent in his company alone might get her into trouble. “Good day.” She turned but was brought up short when his hand clasped around her upper arm.
“Wait, Kitty. There’s a reason I was trying to find you.”
She’d hoped he’d forgotten about that. “Oh?”
“Yes, you see… after my first art lesson with you, I’d assumed we might, that is…” He sighed. “I would love another lesson, if you’d be so kind.”
She blinked. “Today? Now?”
He shrugged. “I find I can think of little else since our encounter. Could I perhaps entice you to accompany me back to my father’s estate? You’ll have to admit it was quite lovely there beside the water’s edge.”
“I… I couldn’t possibly.”
“Why ever not?”
“I…” Think Kitty. “I don’t have my supplies with me. So you see it wouldn’t do any good to have a lesson.”
“Ah, that’s but a minor point.”
“I don’t see how.”
“When I stopped by your house, your sister was so good as to lend me your art supplies.” He tilted his chin toward the carriage. “I have your bag in there.”
Kitty clenched her teeth together. “My sister is just brimming with good intentions today.”
“Very much so. Shall we?”
It’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t go. I mustn’t be alone with him again. With the refusal on her lips, ready to be given voice, Kitty opened her mouth.
Stratford took a step closer. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, much as she’d done to him that first day in the colorman’s shop. She swallowed hard. Wanting to turn and run away, yet held in place by the reminder that she needed to keep him as an ally for her employment, Kitty didn’t budge from her spot.
He reached up and ran one gloved finger down the side of her face. “So incredibly lovely.”
She tried to pull away. “I really shouldn’t go with you.”
“Kitty.” The word came out on the wings of a whisper. “It would mean a great deal to me, a very great deal, if we could continue our—” His eyes lowered to her bodice and back up. “—lessons.”
On the inside, Kitty’s pulse raced, the words I couldn’t possibly ran in a continual loop through her mind. Yet her answer came out simply as, “Of course.”
As she allowed herself to be propelled toward his carriage, she still couldn’t believe she was going with him. The man was a rake. Heaven only knew what he had in mind. But every time her impulse was to refuse one of Stratford’s requests, an image of Robert, angry and volatile at Kitty not making enough money, ran through her mind. There’d been times when Robert had blamed Kitty for something or other but ended up taking out his wrath on one of her sisters. And that would not do.
Not at all.
If she could absorb some of the worry and trouble away from Patience and Lydia, then do it she would.
Once they were seated side by side in the carriage, she glanced to her left. And today, it seemed, Kitty would be giving another art lesson to Stratford. At least, she hoped that was the only type of lesson he had in mind. But try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself of that fact.
Stratford chatted on about this and that as they made their way to his family’s estate grounds. Kitty answered his direct questions and would nod in affirmation but otherwise kept quiet. Every so often, she would glance around, hoping no one she knew saw her sitting there with Stratford. Alone.
She twisted her hands around her reticule. A cold layer of perspiration had coated her back beneath her dress. Kitty could barely contain the urge to reach around and unfasten the top of her gown in order to help her skin dry.
Relief swept through her, though she didn’t know why, when he brought the carriage to a stop not far from their place by the water.
Their place…
She shoved the thought away, determined to give him an art lesson and nothing else.
He helped her down from the carriage. Her back tingled as Stratford placed his fingers on her gown just above her bottom. Did he realize how low his hand was and where exactly he touched her? With a glance up at him she had her answer. His wink spoke of his love of being flirtatious.
But was it only flirting? Or was it more?
Taking her hand in his, he led her back to the same spot beneath the large tree. Once again, there was a blanket spread over the ground.
She inhaled sharply. How had he known he would even find her today that he’d had the blanket arranged ahead of time? Or did he keep one there at all times in the event he wanted to entertain a woman? Any woman?
After Kitty was situated on the blanket, Stratford joined her. And sat very close. Sudden panic grabbed her heart. What was
she doing? Out there where no one else was nearby with a handsome, wealthy gentleman who — she gave a quick peek to the side — whose hand was at that moment making its way toward hers.
Kitty, you’re an idiot. You never should have come with him.
“Something amiss?” He stroked the back of her hand lightly.
She leaned away a little, enough to feel like she could at least breathe without feeling faint. “I… perhaps we shouldn’t be—”
“My dear, surely you won’t back out on your promise for my art lesson. It means a great deal to me. A great deal.” He leaned close and reached for her hand. He pressed his lips to her palm.
Kitty needed to do something to divert his attention. And quickly. “Hand me my bag, won’t you?”
He pulled away and blinked. With a shrug, he reached behind him for the cloth bag and set it closer to her.
“Thank you Mr.—”
He held up one finger.
“—Stratford.”
He smiled.
Time to get to work and get his mind on drawing and off of anything else. Kitty took out a scrap piece of foolscap for the lesson. It was a fairly good sized piece, so there’d be enough room for him to practice on, but she didn’t want to use one of her precious rolls that she’d saved for doing actual panoramas.
She took the large book she kept in her bag out and placed it on the blanket between them. Doing so forced Stratford to move away a few inches. Good. She handed him a pencil.
With one eyebrow raised, he took it. “Um… I’m not proficient at drawing. Hence the lesson.”
“The best way to learn is to just try it.”
“I can think of other things I’d rather try.”
She gave him a single shake of her head and tried to appear stern.
“Very well. What do I do?”
Kitty glanced around them, looking for something easy he could try to draw. There. A small yellow flower bravely held its ground very near the water’s edge. It was surprising it could have deep enough roots in the shallow soil there. “How about that?” She pointed to it.
“A flower? That’s not very…”
“What?”
“Masculine.”
She giggled. “Drawing isn’t about masculine or feminine. It’s about art. Expressing your feelings by what you see and how you portray it.”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “If I must.”
“You must.” She bit her lip trying not to laugh again.
He leaned down over the paper and placed the tip of the pencil in the middle of the page. And stopped.
“Go on.”
“What if I do it incorrectly?”
“That’s the wonderful thing about art. There is no right or wrong.”
“If you say so.” He glanced up at the flower and back. Slowly, he moved the pencil in a curved line, creating the edge of a petal.
“Good.”
“Really?”
She made a motion with her hand. “Keep going.”
He made another half circle next to it and then three more, going around the page. “Like this?”
“Yes.” Kitty was so thankful he was actually drawing and taking a lesson instead of… well, she’d rather not think about that.
He drew a round circle in the middle of the petals and darkened it in. “What else should I do?”
“How about… try flipping the pencil on its side and with light pressure, make tiny striated lines on the petals.”
“What do you mean? Show me.”
She took the pencil and demonstrated the technique, adding texture and definition to two of the petals. “Here, now you—”
When she looked up, he had leaned over toward her. Too close. When she tried to back away, he caught her wrist in his hand. “I can no longer pretend to be interested in drawing a silly flower when what I really desire is to kiss you.”
“Kiss me?” She shook her head.
He nodded. “Oh, yes. Come here, my dear.”
No… This can’t be happening. He’d been drawing. She’d hoped things were progressing as they ought… You’re an idiot, that’s what you are. How could you have believed he’d really settle for an art lesson?
With all the strength she could muster, she tugged her hand free and stood. “I’m afraid our lesson is over.”
He smirked. Did he think she was joking? That she would tell him it was all playacting and she really did mean to kiss him?
After a few seconds, his lips turned downward, as did his eyebrows. “I see.”
He stood and brushed off the front of his coat. Without another word or a backward glance, he stomped away to the empty carriage, leaving her standing by the tree.
Kitty let out a breath. She’d really done it now. Would he see to it she lost her position at the magazine?
But honestly, what other recourse did she have? She wasn’t about to actually let him kiss her, no matter what Robert had demanded. Yes, while she’d flirtatiously kissed men before, Stratford was a rake and might not back away if she let things go that far.