The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(70)

“What happened? Did she turn you down?”

“Never got around to asking. She ended up with someone else.”

She nibbled her lip, something he found adorable. “Will you tell me who?”

“No.” She frowned and he chuckled. “Come now, what does it matter who?”

She straightened a shade too quickly. “Oh, it doesn’t. Matter. To me, that is.”

Interesting. Since she’d started down this conversational path, he forced himself to ask the one question he dreaded the answer to. “Did Hawkins . . . treat you honorably, as a proper husband should?”

She remained silent a long moment, kicking at a pebble with her boot. “He was not cruel, if that is what you mean,” she finally said.

Now she was being evasive. “Was he kind? Did he . . . care for you?” His chest constricted, but he needed to know the truth. He’d wondered over the years how she’d got on with a husband old enough to have been her father.

“He avoided me, mostly. I do not think he knew what to make of a young girl, ruined by scandal and yet not ashamed. He never understood my love of drawing and painting but never disallowed it. To be truthful, he spent most nights with his mistress and that suited both of us perfectly.”

“Were you happy?”

“Not particularly, but I also was not unhappy.”

“And you say I am gifted with words.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “But it’s true. For the most part, I could do as I pleased. A few of the women in the village became my friends. Artists like to spend time alone, and I had plenty of time to myself during my marriage. I used it to study and read and practice. I do not regret it.”

A small knot he’d been carrying in his belly since learning of Cranford’s deception eased. However, Simon hated that Hawkins had not cherished Maggie. Any man in his right mind would thank the saints she graced his bed and spend a lifetime devoted to her pleasure.

Not to mention Hawkins had been her first instead of Simon. Cranford would suffer, if only for that fact alone.

“And what of your mistress?”

Simon nearly stumbled at Maggie’s question. He could comment on the inappropriateness of the question, but such observations were pointless with Maggie. Boldness was never in short supply around her. “Adrianna, you mean. She’s an actress I met at Drury Lane. What else should you care to know?”

“Is it true you visit her every Tuesday and Friday evening?”

He did stumble then. He caught himself from falling and stopped to glower at her. “How in God’s name do you know that?”

“Then it’s true.”

He offered his arm once more. “It was true but no longer. Adrianna and I have parted ways.”

“Hmmm.”

“I am coming to fear that sound out of your mouth. May we cease speaking of my former mistress?”

“Who would have guessed you would turn out to be such a prude?” she teased.

“Oh, you think so?” He leaned closer. “I’ll show you prudish in the carriage on the way home, madam. We’ll see who is laughing then.”

She pursed her lips, her lids falling seductively. His cock leaped when she murmured, “I can hardly wait.”





Chapter Seventeen


“See?” Simon pointed up at a small stone cathedral on the hill. “église Notre-Dame d’Auvers.”

They finished climbing the narrow steps and stood in front of an elegant church that did, in fact, resemble the great gothic masterpiece in Paris. She’d spent many hours sketching the original Notre Dame, so the comparisons in this smaller stone version were instantly obvious. The buttresses, the strange animals, the human figures, not to mention the apse and bell tower . . . absolutely remarkable, the similarities.

Maggie had to laugh. “And here I thought you had lied.”

He shook his head, saying, “I told you, no more lies.”

“Yes, but you purposely misled me into thinking we were staying in Paris.”

“No, that is what you assumed.”

She rolled her eyes. “I should know better than to quibble with a man who can bend Parliament to his whims.”

He put his lips near her ear. “Which is not nearly as much fun as bending you, I’m learning.”

From the heat under her skin, she knew she’d turned scarlet. The rogue. She wandered closer to the building, grateful they’d enjoyed luncheon at a small café first. Her toes were nearly frozen by the time they arrived in Auvers-sur-Oise. Now that she’d properly recovered from their walk, this majestic structure demanded a sketch.

“Here.” Simon thrust the case containing her supplies into her hand. “I can tell by the look on your face that you want to study it.” He dropped a kiss on her nose, then turned to leave. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Wait,” she called after him. “Where are you going?”

He waved his hand. “Around. Never fear, I shall collect you before it grows dark.”

She watched his broad shoulders disappear down the stone steps. Was he truly giving her the afternoon to herself?

Excited, she carried her supplies to a small bench. The sun had peeked through the overcast sky, giving her a bit of warmth in the winter air. Remaining outside would not be possible due to the weather, but at least she could get a rough sketch done and then finish it inside.