Free Waltz With a Stranger by Pamela Sherwood Page B

his friend. “What place do you recommend, Thomas?”
    “Well, Fortnum and Mason serves excellent pastries,” Sheridan replied. “And it has the advantage of being just across the street…”
    ***
    “I’ll have the chocolate gateau, please,” Amy announced, pointing at the luscious-looking slice on the cake trolley. A smiling waitress served her promptly, then turned to Aurelia.
    “Um…” She fretted her lower lip as she gazed at the pastries, each one more tempting than the last. “The mille-feuille for me, please,” she said at last and just managed not to sigh with delight as the layered confection, bursting with rich pastry cream, was set before her.
    “That looks wonderful,” Amy said, eying it appreciatively. “I’ll trade tastes with you?”
    “Of course.” Aurelia carefully cut off a morsel of her pastry for her sister and accepted a bite of Amy’s gateau in exchange. “Delicious,” she declared after swallowing the mouthful.
    Amy’s response to the mille-feuille was similarly enthusiastic. Trevenan and Mr. Sheridan smiled like indulgent uncles at their pleasure. Between the four of them, they’d consumed an astonishing amount of food, Aurelia reflected: a variety of filled sandwiches, still-warm scones with jam and cream, and now savories and cakes.
    She ate another bite of mille-feuille, savoring the feather-light layers of pastry, and gazed out the window at the bustling thoroughfare that was Piccadilly in mid-afternoon.
    “More tea, Miss Aurelia?” Mr. Sheridan inquired from his place beside her.
    “Yes, thank you.” She let him refill her cup from the silver tea service.
    “Have you given my proposal any further thought?” he asked.
    She took a sip of the hot, fragrant tea. “About your painting me, you mean?”
    “Indeed.” His eyes glinted. “I’m prepared to bribe you with mille-feuilles, if necessary.”
    Aurelia surprised herself by laughing. “Too many of these, and I won’t be able to fit into my gowns—or your canvas!”
    “Then I’ll simply take a leaf out of Rubens’ book when you pose for me,” he retorted. “Believe it or not, his ideal of womanhood is still much admired, especially by men.”
    Aurelia shook her head, smiling. “You have an answer for everything, Mr. Sheridan.”
    “He does, indeed,” Trevenan said dryly. “I should warn you, Miss Aurelia, Thomas is notoriously single-minded in pursuit of his goals. You might as well say yes now, because he’s not about to take no for an answer.”
    “The curse of having friends who know you too well,” Sheridan lamented. “But James is quite right. I intend to be obnoxiously persistent about this.”
    “Well, obnoxious at any rate,” Amy murmured from behind her napkin, just loudly enough for Aurelia to hear.
    Aurelia kicked her twin’s ankle under the table, though Sheridan gave no sign of having heard. How odd that he wanted to paint her and not Amy, whose features were practically identical and unscarred to boot—not to mention that Amy would probably enjoy sitting for an artist. “Just what exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Sheridan?” she asked, hoping fervently that his ideas did not involve nudity. “A portrait?”
    He shook his head emphatically. “Oh, no. While I do paint portraits on commission, I prefer classical or literary subjects when left to my own devices.”
    “Like your Lady of Shalott?”
    “Exactly. Although,” he paused, studying her face anew, “I do not think I would choose an Arthurian setting for you. Shakespearean, perhaps—you would make a charming Perdita from The Winter’s Tale . Or Miranda from The Tempest . Are you familiar with either?”
    “With both, actually. Believe it or not, Mr. Sheridan, we read Shakespeare’s plays in America too,” she assured him dryly.
    He flashed her a rueful smile. “My apologies, Miss Aurelia. Believe me, I was not casting aspersions on your country so much as decrying the general state of education for young ladies. My