The Art of Sinning Read Free Page A

die a spinster for certain.”
    Incredulous, Jeremy stared through the window at her. “A spinster! Are all the men in England mad?”
    â€œYes.” Blakeborough sighed. “Not to mention wary of the scandals that dog our family wherever we go.”
    Suddenly Jeremy remembered the other bit of gossip he’d heard. Blakeborough’s brother had been convicted of kidnapping the bride’s cousin. That must be quite a tale. He’d have to get the earl to tell him sometime. After he arranged to have the impressive Yvette model for his latest work.
    The first ones he’d exhibited in London—depictions of a lunatic asylum, a butcher shop, a carriage accident, and other “genre paintings,” as some calledthem—had received mixed reviews. Some critics had lauded his new direction. Others had complained that he no longer created the grand historical paintings for which he’d become known.
    But his new work, an allegory, would give to everyday struggles the same weight as great events in history or mythology. It would be his masterpiece. With any luck, it would gain him a place in London’s Royal Academy of Arts.
    With any luck, it would also launch him as an artist of equal caliber to Géricault or Delacroix, not just one more painter of the same old historical scenes. But for that, he needed a woman with a striking appearance to play the primary role. A woman like Blakeborough’s sister.
    â€œAs it happens, I’m quite a popular fellow in society right now,” Jeremy said. Even if not lauded by his peers to the extent he wanted. “So a fine painting of your sister by me might increase her popularity, too.”
    The earl pondered that a moment, then narrowed his gray gaze on Jeremy. “That’s an excellent notion.”
    â€œYou see? I wouldn’t robe her in anything outrageous—”
    â€œNo, not that. What I mean is, you could paint her portrait, a formal one that shows off her attractions. That would surely help her in society.”
    Jeremy cursed under his breath. “I don’t do portraits.”
    â€œWhy the devil not?”
    â€œBecause the sitters always want false representations. They think they should be depicted as more beautiful or clever or rich than they are. And sinceI refuse to cater to such hypocrisy, they’re never happy with the results.”
    Blakeborough looked him over as if assessing his worth. “What if I paid you handsomely for the painting?”
    â€œFortunately, I don’t need the money.”
    The earl snorted, clearly unfamiliar with that sentiment, especially coming from a lowly American artist. “Well, that’s the only way I’ll allow it. It’s a portrait or nothing, sir.”
    Stubborn ass. “I will not paint a formal portrait of Yvette—”
    â€œ Lady Yvette,” Blakeborough corrected him.
    â€œAnd even if I did, I would paint her as she is. I would never agree to a portrait that ‘shows off her attractions,’ whatever that means. Might as well ask me to dress her up like a whore to entice customers.”
    â€œIf that would work, I might consider it,” the earl grumbled. When Jeremy lifted an eyebrow, he added, “I’m joking. Mostly.”
    â€œWhy is it so all-fired important that she marry?”
    Blakeborough stared into the ballroom at his sister. “I want her to be happy. And the longer she lives alone with me, the more likely that she will be dragged down by my cynical temperament.”
    â€œAh. Now that, I understand.” He wanted Amanda to be happy, too. He just didn’t want to sacrifice his own happiness for it.
    â€œYou said you have a sister as well?” the earl asked.
    â€œYes. And if you think it’s hard to get your sister married off, you should try it with mine.”
    â€œUnattractive, is she?”
    â€œNo, her looks aren’t the problem. Amanda runs four textile mills in