Free A Perfect Secret by Donna Hatch Page A

intensity that she almost stepped back. He was so different than he’d been in Bath. She couldn’t reconcile the gentle man she’d loved then to this new, hardened Christian. Perhaps she was too emotionally exhausted and beaten down to even try. It didn’t matter. She must leave and never see him again.
    His gaze dropped and he gripped his pencil with whitened fingers. She should leave now. Spending time with Christian could only mean disaster for her heart. But at the thought of leaving, pain raced through her.
    She took a step forward. “What are you drawing?”
    He looked away as if he couldn’t bear to look at her, and made a vague gesture. Then his mouth twitched into a self-deprecating smile. She’d always loved how expressive he was. Although seeing him so clearly angry and disapproving opened up an ache in her chest.
    “I sometimes get fascinated by odd things, common objects other people find dull.”
    She nodded, remembering how often they stopped as they walked together in Bath so he could capture something on paper. She indicated his sketch book. “May I see?”
    He hesitated, no doubt uncomfortable showing her, the jilt, anything so personal as his drawings. Without looking at her, he surrendered the book. The first page held a sketch of a cluster of mushrooms, oddly shaped and distorted. She turned in the direction he’d been facing and spied them huddled in the shade of a fountain. They were exactly as he’d drawn them, but under his pencil lines, they took on an almost magical slant. His art had always had a fanciful flair. She flipped the page back to the previous drawing and saw a single hand, long-fingered, slender and graceful.
    “Amazing,” she said.
    The next page showed a pair of eyes, dark and soulful, filled with such despair that tears stung her own eyes. She quickly flipped to the next. On paper, Lady Tarrington wore a tender expression as she lovingly rested her hand on her rounded stomach. He’d re-created her quiet dignity and serenity. She glowed in maternal joy. Genevieve ruthlessly shoved away her own grief and shut it behind a door.
    She glanced up at him. “You’ve done an impressive job in capturing her spirit. She’s very kind. And so lovely.”
    “Yes, she is.” His voice took on a wistfulness. “She makes my brother very happy.”
    She adjusted her gloves. “I have no gift for art, of course, but I have read a great deal on the subject and have visited a number of public and private galleries. And I saw the Elgin Marbles when they were on display. I’d love to see your paintings.”
    He said nothing, simply stood fisting his hands. The ache in her chest sharpened at his clear emotional upheaval.
    She cleared her throat. “By the way, I failed to thank you. I understand it was you who rescued me from the river. You put yourself in great danger. I’m indebted to you.”
    Despite his overt tension, the barest hint of a teasing note entered his voice. “Think nothing of it. I frequently go about rescuing ladies in distress.”
    She forced herself to smile in spite of the pain in her chest. “I’m not surprised. You would have made a wonderful knight, shining armor and all.”
    His expression was so uncharacteristically guarded that she couldn’t determine his thoughts. If only she could tell him she hadn’t really thrown him over, that she’d done it to save her parents. But that would not help matters. Somehow, though, there had to be a way to smooth over the hard feelings between them. She fidgeted with the ribbons of her bonnet and came up with nothing.
    He cast a desperate glance at the house as if plotting his escape.
    To break the silence, she drew a breath and spoke. “So, you live in London now? I thought you didn’t care for the city.”
    He looked away. “London suits my needs.”
    She studied him, searching for an explanation. He once loved the country best, letting the splendor of nature inspire him to create beautiful paintings. “I thought you