Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(30)
But such measures would never take away the Scots’ pride. Alec had an arrogance that couldn’t be quelled, a power that would never be quashed. Celia recalled the brusqueness in Alec’s voice when he’d chided Lady Flora about his daughter’s nurse. Celia had been perplexed at his presumption, but now it was explained—he was used to command.
Regardless, Lady Flora’s capitulation was curious. Celia would simply have to watch and listen and find out everything.
Celia stepped out of the chair at Lady Flora’s at ten minutes to eight the next morning. She’d expected to feel embarrassed and worried after kissing Alec so heartily, but her stomach only fluttered in anticipation. Embarrassment was far from her mind.
The flutter increased when she entered the studio high above to find Alec already there.
He straightened from bending over a box about three feet long and one and a half wide on a stand in front of a window, though what was in the box, Celia couldn’t see. The large easel with a blank sheet of drawing paper pinned to it obscured whatever he was doing.
Lady Flora’s footman silently laid Celia’s portfolio on a table and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Celia rested her hand on her stomacher, a silk concoction of blue with yellow ribbons woven through it. Her maid had tried to dissuade Celia from wearing the bright gown, its deep blue overskirt revealing a gold underskirt embroidered with green vines. Celia’s mother expected her to make do with dark and unobtrusive garments now that she was in disgrace, but Celia had wanted to look well for Alec. Another reason for leaving the house early was so her mother would not see what she wore.
Alec barely glanced at her. “There ye are, lass. Come and see.”
Celia rustled to him, straightening the lace at her sleeves. What a peacock she was, wishing to strut before him.
Alec stepped aside to reveal the large wooden box on its stand. A flood of sunshine poured in through the tall window, warming the air.
Celia was no more enlightened about the box now that she could see it clearly. And to be honest, Alec was far more enticing to look at. He might dress in plain breeches, linen shirt, and dull brown frock coat, but the man inside the clothes held grace and sinewy strength. He was far more decorative than the dandies at Lady Clara’s salon in their bright velvets and gaudy jewels.
“What do you think, love?” Alec asked, watching her with amusement.
Celia started at the word love then tried to compose herself. “I think nothing. I mean—what is it?”
“My surprise.” Alec opened the box’s lid to show the back half of an empty chamber. The front of the box had a hole in it, which Alec had positioned to face the window.
Celia peered inside curiously. “Did it escape? I assume it wasn’t a rhinoceros. You’d need a bigger box. And it would need a larger hole.”
Alec’s rumble of laughter filled the air. “It’s a camera obscura. Have ye never seen one?”
“Truly?” Celia peered at the box with more interest. “I’ve heard of them, but no, I’ve not seen one.”
“Then let me introduce ye.”
Alec turned to a low table and opened a smaller box with velvet-lined compartments. He removed what looked like a telescope lens and fitted it into the hole in the box’s front. He took a rectangular mirror from the velvet box and positioned it in the back half of the camera obscura, slanting it to catch the light from the hole and throw it to the open top of the box. Then he fitted a frame with glass to the camera obscura’s open top.
He gestured to it. “Have a look.”
Alec didn’t move out of the way, so Celia had to step against him to peer down at the frame of glass. The brush of his coat, the warmth of him inside the linen and wool unnerved her, but then she caught sight of what was on the glass.
“Oh.” She drew a happy breath. “How wonderful.”
The glass showed her, upside down, the rooftops of Grosvenor Square and the flow of London beyond them. Lady Flora’s huge house was taller than many of its fellows, and the view from her upper floors was vast.
The camera obscura caught the light of the unusually bright day and cast the image inside, the mirror reflecting it to the top of the box.
Though the image wasn’t as crisp as the world outside, Celia saw its colors and shapes, as well as the brilliant blue of the sky and stark white clouds.
“Now then.” Alec set a piece of very thin paper over the glass. “I saw ye liked painting the city and thought you’d enjoy capturing it precisely. We’ll trace the outlines and then make it into a grand painting.”
“Like Signor Canaletto’s,” Celia said excitedly. “I so admire them. My father bought several of his pictures when he was in Venice. And you’ve seen Lady Flora’s.”
“Aye, he’s fond of the camera obscura. What he does with his tracings is a thing of beauty. I have confidence you could do as well as he.”
Celia raised her head. “Me? Paint like Signor Canaletto? Now you are flattering me, Mr. Finn. I suppose you must do so to keep your students paying your fee.”
Alec looked hurt. “Do ye not trust me to know talent when I see it? But here’s a secret, love—talent isn’t all ye need. Ye have to do the work. So draw, lass.”
Celia took the pencil he handed her. “You know that I am supposed to be learning portraiture.”