The Wicked Baron Read Free Page B

slight movement on the platform close to the ceiling caught his eye and he observed a slight, boyish figure staring down at him.
    ‘Are you the owner?’
    ‘No,’ said Luke, ‘but I am come on his behalf.’
    ‘Oh. Mr Kemble is not here.’
    ‘So I can see. Where is he?’
    ‘They have all gone to the inn. It is mid-day and they are always hungry by mid-day.’
    ‘But not you?’
    ‘No, I must finish the fresco while the plaster is still wet.’
    Luke shielded his eyes, trying to get a better view of the shadowy figure so high above him. ‘Are you not a little young?’
    ‘I am eighteen.’ The voice grew a shade deeper.
    ‘Come down and let me look at you,’ said Luke, intrigued.
    ‘No, sir. I cannot leave my painting.’
    ‘Then I shall come up to you.’ Luke put his foot on the ladder and heard a squeak from above. ‘Well? Will you come down now?’
    ‘I will, but only for a moment.’
    Luke stood back and watched as the figure scrambled onto the top ladder and began to climb down. He grinned. The upper body was shrouded in a loose shirt, but the tight-fitting breeches left nothing to his admittedly rather wild imagination—the figure descending from the scaffolding was most definitely not a boy!
    Moments later she stood before him, her eyes, large and dark, regarding him with a mixture of defiance and apprehension. She was very petite with a mass of gleaming near-black hair, constrained at the back of her long, slender neck by a poppy-red ribbon. A paint-spattered shirt billowed from her shoulders, but could not disguise the gentle swell of her breasts, and the tight-fitting breeches were worn with a nonchalance that wouldhave done credit to any actress at Drury Lane. He bit back an appreciative smile.
    ‘Well, does my brother know he has hired 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