“I’d much rather talk of you than Lady Boothby,” he said, his lips brushing hers. “Why do you have so many people spread about your houses?” she asked. “I have instructed my agents to buy any portrait that comes on the market by Benjamin West.” “An odd way of thinking about it,” Lucius said. “But I am not quite certain that I wish to share my chambers with Lady Boothby.” “She’s probably still alive,” she pointed out. The portrait is by Benjamin West and dates to the 1780s.” Although I fear that the inestimable play seems to be sending her to sleep.” “She’s reading Shakespeare,” Lucius said. Tess moved quite close, trying to see the spine of her book. Her eyes gazed at the viewer lazily, her other hand holding a book that she seemed too indolent to read. She was posed on a bench in the woods, leaning on one hand. Naturally, there was a portrait of a lady hanging on the wall there too, just across from a beautiful rosewood writing desk. There was something in his eyes that made Tess blush, and once they reached that bower, a perfect frenzy of rosebuds and ruffled silk, it was clear that Lucius’s interest was less in playing guide than in…something else.
“Now, may I show you the rest of the house? The lady’s bower, for instance?” “It might be difficult…it’s been a very long time since my father-”īut Lucius was smiling. “I’ll find it,” Lucius said, before she had to continue. “There was a portrait of my mother that used to hang in her chamber,” Tess said. I bought it for nearly a thousand pounds.”
He looked down at her, his dark eyes curious.
“Perhaps the Lasletts can’t afford to buy the portrait back,” Tess said, as they strolled back to the house.
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