A Little Bit Sinful. Adrienne Basso

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СКАЧАТЬ you’d rather not go with Atwood and Lady Dorothea, you can ride with me,” Peter Dawson suggested.

      Dawson had also been a classmate and was the only other man Sebastian considered a true friend. Possessing a quiet, cerebral personality, Dawson was the levelheaded, thoughtful balance in the trio of friends, the one who had kept them all from total disgrace. Yet he still knew how to have fun.

      “My coachman has instructions to return for me after he has delivered my relations safely to the manor’s front door,” Sebastian replied. “I’ll wait for him.”

      “I’ll wait too,” Emma quickly volunteered.

      “Really, Emma, you should come with us,” Lady Dorothea admonished in a soft voice. “I’m sure the viscount would appreciate a few minutes of privacy.”

      “Oh, goodness. I hadn’t realized,” Emma replied.

      Sebastian felt her stiffen and he panicked, thinking she would pull away. “I would prefer that Emma stay with me. If you don’t object?”

      Sebastian looked directly at Lady Dorothea as he spoke, but the question was obviously intended for both her and her husband. Emma might be Dorothea’s younger sister, but it was the marquess who protected her. Still, if Lady Dorothea disapproved, Sebastian knew Emma would be gone in the blink of an eye.

      Lady Dorothea took a deep breath as if striving for patience and understanding. She was a kind woman and he knew she cared about him, knew she was sincerely sympathetic over the death of his grandmother. Yet his roguish reputation and scandalous deeds made her leery about leaving her seventeen-year-old sister alone with him in so isolated a location. Smart woman.

      Lady Dorothea turned toward her husband. Atwood grimaced, then deliberately glanced down at the hand in which Sebastian held Emma’s. Tightening his grip, Sebastian tucked it closer to his chest. Atwood’s brow rose in a disapproving manner, but he said nothing.

      “We will see you both shortly?” Atwood finally asked.

      It was more of a command than a question. Sebastian nodded.

      It was quiet after they left. Hand in hand, Sebastian and Emma walked through the small cemetery, passing his ancestors’ well-tended graves.

      “‘Tis a pretty spot,” Emma remarked.

      “Yes, all things considered.” Sebastian gazed into the distance, taking note of the sea of blue wildflowers dotting the landscape, their vibrant color a sharp foil to the rich, green grass. Funny, his grandmother had always had a particular fondness for any shade of blue.

      “You know, Sebastian, you might feel better if you cried,” Emma said. “There is no shame in feeling such deep sorrow at your loss. I vow, I sobbed for weeks when my parents died.”

      “You were five years old.”

      Emma grunted. For the first time that day, Sebastian laughed. He knew she wanted to argue with him, to press her point, but her kind heart would not allow her to challenge him on such a sad day.

      He swung their clasped hands up to his face, pressing her gloved knuckles against his cheek. Then he lowered his arm and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, making it all proper and correct between them. Well, except for the lack of a chaperone.

      “Did you know that I saw the countess the day before she died?” Emma asked.

      Sebastian nodded. “She spoke briefly of your visit. It was kind of you to think of her. Not many bothered to call on a sick old woman.”

      “In addition to my visit, I delivered something. Since you haven’t said anything about it, I assume your grandmother didn’t speak of it.”

      “She only told me that you had called.”

      Emma’s brows knit together with uncertainty. “I know she wanted to show it to you, but I imagine she lacked the strength.” Emma paused. “I brought her your portrait.”

      “You finished it?”

      “Yes. The main portion had been completed for several weeks. I was worried about rushing the finishing touches, but I knew the countess did not have much longer to live. Thankfully, having a shortened deadline did not hinder my work. I believe she was very pleased with the final result,” Emma concluded modestly.

      Sebastian felt a tug of wistfulness. He was glad that the countess had seen the work finished, yet felt sorry that they had not had the chance to view the portrait together, especially since it had been his grandmother’s idea.

      Though she was young, and a female, Emma’s artistic talent had impressed the countess. Without hesitation, and over Sebastian’s protests, his grandmother had commissioned the portrait. But his initial grumbling quickly faded. Emma was not a giggling, spoiled debutante who dabbled with her brushes and colors. She was a serious artist with a phenomenal talent.

      Spending time sitting for the painting had given Sebastian a rare gift. A friendship with Emma, his first with a member of the opposite sex. It was something he valued greatly.

      “Tell me, do I look impossibly handsome in my portrait?” he asked.

      “I am an artist, Sebastian, not a magician.”

      “You are a cheeky brat,” he stated emphatically.

      Emma tugged insistently on his arm. “And you are far too vain. Impossibly handsome, indeed. I painted you as you are, though the countess thought I might have embellished the width of your shoulders and the firmness of your jaw.”

      “Ah, so the women will be impressed?”

      “Yes, they shall be swooning in alarming numbers when they gaze upon the splendor of your male beauty.”

      “Rendered speechless, perhaps?”

      “Struck dumb,” Emma insisted.

      “Alas, that is hardly difficult for many a young lady in society.”

      Emma’s brow arched the tiniest fraction. ‘Twas far too worldly a gesture for such an innocent young woman. “Your opinion of the gentler sex is alarmingly insulting. We are not all a bunch of ninnies.”

      “I can count on one hand the number of women who possess more brains than God gave a goose.”

      Emma shook her head. “Have you ever considered that the reason there are so many foolish, empty-headed young women littered throughout society is because they are deliberately kept ignorant by the men who seek to control them?” “Protect them,” he countered. “Rubbish.” Emma sighed loudly. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

      Sebastian admired the way her chin angled up when she grew perturbed. She was a very pretty girl. A few years of maturity on her face and figure and Emma would become a truly stunning woman.

      “Though you are loath to acknowledge it, we both know there are females in society who do indeed require male protection, mostly to save them from themselves,” he said. “I daresay you’ve already met one or two of these types this Season. Trust me, there will be others.”

      “Honestly, Sebastian, you are СКАЧАТЬ