PortraitofPassion Read Free Page A

that she knew my father.” He was
loath to broach the subject but knew he must.
    “Surely you are not suggesting that she and your father were
lovers.” Henry nearly howled with laughter now. “First Moorehead, then me, and
now your father? Simon, you are jumping to wild conclusions, even for you.”
    “Even for me?” he demanded.
    “Come now, you are the most suspicious, cynical person I
know.” Henry propped his feet upon the carriage seat next to Easton, crossing
them at the ankles. His cousin was getting comfortable before he shared some
insight or idea. Simon had seen him do it a hundred times.
    “Simon, I’ll tell you everything I know about the lovely
Miss Morgan, but I’m warning you now, I don’t know much.”
    “You met in Paris months ago and now she is in London.” Let
Henry think him suspicious.
    “That is a bit odd,” Henry agreed.
    “What is she doing in London?” Simon asked, although he
thought he knew the answer.
    “I’ve no idea.” Henry’s eyes lit up. “But what a pleasant
surprise.”
    “Tell me you did not send for the lady,” Simon said.
    “I did not send for the lady,” Henry responded with a laugh.
    “So she followed you quite on her own?”
    Henry paused to consider Simon’s words. “I doubt she
followed me,” he finally responded.
    “You meet a mysterious woman, an artist apparently, in Paris
months ago, and as if by magic she just happens to appear in London not two
weeks after your return?” Simon did not believe in coincidence.
    “When you put it like that,” Henry responded around a
chuckle, “I’d have to agree. She followed me. Well, I’ll be. I didn’t think she
was interested in me beyond as an amusing fellow countryman with whom to flirt
and dance. Leave it to you to figure it all out in less than five minutes,
Simon.”
    “You had no indication in Paris that she might be interested
in forming an attachment?” Simon asked, ignoring Henry’s sarcastic response.
    “I had hoped so upon first meeting her,” Henry replied.
“After all she is quite friendly, and clever and worldly. And she did bestow
marked attention upon me. I hinted at deepening our friendship. Repeatedly.
Subtly, of course. She has the most charming way of ignoring a man’s amorous
intentions. She simply pretends she is unaware of them. Or perhaps she really
is unaware of them. She’s damn hard to read. She laughs and smiles at everyone.
I saw the way she held on to your hand and caressed it that way.”
    “I think it is safe to say that everyone saw that.”
    “It’s just her way. She touches your arm and leans in close
when she speaks to you. She says whatever pops into her mind. She teases near
strangers in a way that most people reserve for their family or closest
friends.”
    “So when the subtlety didn’t produce the desired effects?”
Simon wanted to know.
    Henry turned to look out the window, but not before Easton
saw the blush.
    “I attempted to kiss her one night. Well, actually I did
kiss her one night. She had asked me to accompany her out onto the terrace
after we had danced a set.”
    “She asked you to escort her out into the night alone?”
Simon asked.
    “She only wanted a bit of air. She has an aversion to
crowds, says she can’t breathe with too many people about her.”
    “And she encouraged you to kiss her?”
    “I don’t know as I’d say she encouraged me. I leaned down,
she didn’t move away. So I kissed her.”
    “And she?”
    “She took my kiss and turned it into a—well, she turned it
from a kiss between a man and a woman into a kiss between friends.”
    “I have quite a number of friends and I don’t think I’ve
ever kissed a one of them,” Simon pointed out.
    “I know, but that’s what she did. I kissed her, she kissed
me back, a great big smacking kiss, like I’d give my niece. Then she took both
my hands in hers, smiled at me and told me how happy she was that we had met
and she was certain we were going to be the very best of