Free The Portrait by Judith B. Glad Page A

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half-hour to the considerable thumping and bumping that occurred. Eventually the servant
descended the stairs. There was not a sound from overhead for several moments, then I heard
footsteps crossing the room and descending the stairs. I remained inside my bedchamber, curled
on the window seat, book in hand. To this day I cannot remember what I was reading...if I was
reading.
    Shortly thereafter Mattie, the maid who usually brought my morning chocolate, tapped
lightly at my door. "Miss? Miss, you're wanted upstairs."
    We ascended, I not entirely without trepidation. The man unsettled me in a way no one
had. There was no pleasure in my anticipation of the next few weeks. Ever since I had arrived in
London, just ten days ago, I had been dreading the entire adventure. Other girls might, as Mother
had often told me, look forward to their Season with delight and eagerness. I, who had never
been more than five miles from Father's principal seat, dreaded the entire process. I would far
rather stay in the country, would prefer to remain unmarried, for I did not deal well with others,
having been a solitary child without playmates. Only a nurse until I was five, then a series of
governesses, most of them pleasant enough but lacking warmth.
    The draperies had been stripped from the tall dormer windows and the bright winter
light streamed through, turning the polished oaken floor to a pond of molten gold, reflecting
from the white walls until one's eyes were dazzled. I paused at the doorway, squinting.
    "Don't dawdle, girl. Come here! And you--" He glowered at Mattie. "Go away. I don't
paint in public."
    Mattie hesitated. "My maid will remain," I said. "Surely my mother made that
clear."
    "Are you afraid I'll ravish you?" His voice was no longer harsh, but was a seductive
purr, one that sent small shivers down my spine.
    After our first encounter, I had resolved not to let him gain the upper hand again. I lifted
my chin in perfect imitation of Mother and said, "Not at all sir. However, there are certain
proprieties to be observed, and I am careful to do so."
    "Huh! Silly twit." He turned his back and fiddled with objects on the tall table beside his
easel. After a moment, he looked at me over his shoulder. "Well? Why aren't you sitting? There.
On that stool."
    For the first time I saw the tall stool sitting alone in the middle of the room. Surely he
would not paint me without background, simply perched there like a child on a fence. I opened
my mouth to protest.
    "Sit, sit!" His pointing finger commanded me. I decided to save my arguments for a
more important issue. I sat, exposing a considerable length of ankle while doing so.
    His eyes gleamed.
    I felt heat rise in my cheeks.
    "Look at me."
    Reluctantly I turned my face toward his, letting my gaze rest upon his chin. It was
square and firm, the chin of a man who gave little quarter.
    He began to sketch, his hand moving quickly across the wide sheet. The soft rasp of
charcoal against paper was the only sound. After an interminable time, he said, "Raise your head.
I want to see your eyes." Without looking at me, he tore the sheet of paper from the large tablet
and sailed it across the room. It came to rest against the far wall, just out of my sight.
    I turned to look.
    "Damn it girl! Look at me."
    I jerked my chin higher and glared at him. It was a mistake.
    His eyes blazed hot green fire, compelling, mesmerizing. I could not look away, could
not even blink. Within me a small core of warmth bloomed, just enough to make me wonder if
there were not something after all to the fairy tales of love and passion in the half-dozen
romantic novels left to me by the only governess I had found a kindred spirit.
    She lasted five weeks before Mother discharged her as too frivolous.
    In the several years since then, I had decided the stories were the imaginings of
demented minds. Men simply did not behave with such silliness. Imagine a man believing he had
to woo and win a maid with candy and