The Wicked Baron. Sarah Mallory

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СКАЧАТЬ a lady to decorate his house?’

      ‘You are Mr Ainslowe’s brother?’

      ‘I am. And who are you, what is your name?’

      ‘I am Carlotta Durini.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘Perhaps I should explain.’

      ‘Please do.’

      ‘My—my father is the artist commissioned to paint Malberry Court, but he has broken his leg and—and I am finishing the last frescoes for him, so that the house will be ready on time. Please, sir, you must not think that there is any plot to deceive, but there was no one else to do it, and, if it is not finished in time, Papa will not be paid the full amount, and then Mama cannot have her maid—and it is only this one ceiling—’

      Laughing, he reached out and caught her hands.

      ‘Peace, peace, Miss Durini! Do not upset yourself.’

      Her hands were very small and soft within his grasp. Smiling, he let his thumbs gently stroke her wrists, just above the palm, and he felt her agitated fingers grow still. Her lustrous dark eyes were still wary, but he detected the beginnings of a shy smile curving her mouth. Luke found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss those soft red lips. His smile deepened; he opened his mouth to charm her with a few well-chosen words, but they were never uttered. The sound of voices drifted in on the still air. He looked out across the park and saw a group of figures emerging from the trees. Something very like disappointment passed over him.

      ‘I think this must be the others returning now. I will talk to Kemble.’

      Those dark eyes regarded him anxiously. ‘You will not turn me off?’

      ‘I have no power to do so. But if your work is not up to the standard…’

      To his surprise, the worried look left the girl’s face.

      ‘It will be, sir. I have been well taught.’ She stepped back, gently pulling her hands free. ‘If you will excuse me, I must go back to my painting; if the plaster becomes too dry, the fresco will be ruined.’

      Without another word she scrambled up the ladder and was soon lost to sight. With a sigh, Luke turned to meet the man who was hurrying towards him.

      It was natural that Kemble, Mr James Ainslowe’s clerk of works, should want to show his employer’s brother all the renovations that had been carried out, and to assure him that the work was proceeding as scheduled. However, at length Luke could contain himself no longer.

      ‘Is it now the fashion, Mr Kemble, to employ female painters?’

      There was an uncomfortable silence.

      ‘You refer, my lord, to Signor Durini’s daughter.’ Luke maintained a polite silence, and soon Kemble continued. ‘I believe she has been running wild in the signor’s workshop since she was a babe, and learned all his techniques. Howsoever that may be, when the signor’s apprentice loped off back to Italy, there was no one to take over, and with the master due back in less than three weeks, the signor was desperate for his frescoes to be finished. I admit I was not very happy at first, having the chit here, but the signor assures me she can paint, sir.’

      ‘But is she not…distracting?’

      Mr Kemble grinned.

      ‘I confess I had to give a couple o’ the lads a clout ‘round the ear for staring…’

      Now, in the overheated confines of Lady Prestbury’s ballroom, Luke thought that Kemble himself might stare if he could see Signor Durini’s daughter outshining every other young woman in the room.

      ***

      Carlotta watched Luke walk away from her, then stumbled to one of the cushioned benches that lined the walls of the ballroom and sank down. She was shaking. She put her hands to her temples, trying to stop the memories, but it was no good. She was back at Malberry, climbing down from the scaffolding after completing that first fresco. Even now she could remember her satisfaction at a job well done, feel the warm sun on her back…

      ‘So you have come down at last.’

      Carlotta jumped. With one hand still clutching the scaffolding, she looked around to see Luke sitting on the stone steps, leaning against the base of one of the pillars. His lazy smile made her tingle, right down to her toes.

      ‘Mr…Ainslowe.’

      He grinned. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘I was taking a stroll through the park and realised you were still here. Do you always work this late?’

      ‘Sometimes later.’ Carlotta eyed him warily. The workmen had all gone back to the village, and even Mr Kemble would be in his lodge behind the stable block. Luke was smiling at her now, the twinkle in his hazel eyes making it hard for her not to smile back at him.

      ‘I think I should escort you home.’

      ‘Oh. I mean, um, I—I have first to clean out my brushes,’ she said, backing away.

      ‘Of course.’ He nodded gravely. ‘Go along, then. I shall wait here for you.’

      ***

      She expected him to be gone by the time she had finished putting away her paints and tidying the little paint store, but he was still sitting on the steps as she came around the side of the house, and, with a little spurt of surprise, Carlotta realised that she would have been disappointed to find him gone. He rose to his feet.

      ‘I was beginning to think you had run away from me.’

      Carlotta’s cheeks grew hot; she had considered avoiding him and going around the far side of the house. He held out his arm, but she gave a tiny shake of her head and began to walk down the drive, keeping a good distance between them. Safe. Sensible. Yet the truth was she did not feel sensible. She felt exhilarated in his company, aware of him walking beside her, matching his step to hers. She was sorely tempted to reach out her hand and take his arm, to draw closer to him. She did not understand why she should feel like this. It was all very confusing.

      ‘Kemble tells me your father’s apprentice ran away, and that is why you must finish the ceiling for him.’

      ‘It is only two of the minor scenes. Papa has completed all the major work.’

      ‘Yes, I was looking at the murals in the house. They are spectacular.’

      ‘Papa is a much respected artist in Rome.’

      ‘You must be very proud of him.’

      ‘I am.’

      ‘And is that what you want to do, paint life-size murals?’

      She laughed. ‘No, it would be thought improper.’ She flushed, and glanced across at him. ‘Not that my work is not perfectly good. My father would never have consented to my finishing the ceiling if he thought there would be cause for complaint.’

      ‘You need not worry; I have seen nothing that would make me say any such thing.’

      They walked together СКАЧАТЬ