Free Every Scandalous Secret by Gayle Callen Page A

. . . intrusive to sketch actual people. I can’t imagine how it must feel when an artist has a model—unclothed!” She laughed a bit too loudly, and some of her champagne splattered to the floor.
    Susanna took the glass from her hand. “Don’t drink any more, or you might fall asleep before we can meet. How should we tell the other girls?”
    I n the end, their secret was passed from lady to lady during the dance, and by the time the house seemed settled, Susanna’s feelings of reckless daring were still running high. And the look on Marie’s face when she hadn’t wanted her gown unhooked—the maid thought Susanna had an exciting assignation with a man, and she’d regretted having to disabuse the woman of that notion. Marie had been disappointed.
    Holding her sketching supplies under one arm and a candle with the other hand, Susanna crept toward the front of the house. She was right in front of Caroline’s door when it opened, and both of them gasped and backed up, their candles flickering wildly. Covering their mouths against giggles, eyes shining in the soft light, they gestured with their heads toward the front of the house. Susanna followed in her friend’s wake, pleasantly surprised at Caroline’s daring. She’d been worried everyone might have second thoughts.
    The gallery was above the ground floor, spanning the width of the house, and during the day, held a magnificent view of the countryside. At night, moonlight streamed through the tall windows, casting strange shadows among the sculptures and vases on display. Giant paintings were crowded together on almost every wall, but their subjects were vague in the darkness.
    To Susanna’s surprise, Miss Norton rushed forward from where she’d been perched on a sofa in the darkness.
    Caroline gasped, and her candle went out. As she relit hers from Susanna’s candle, she said, “Aurelia, there’s no need to startle us!”
    “You startled me!” her cousin cried, looking furtively over her shoulder. “I knew I should have met you in your bedroom. Mama’s chamber connects with mine!”
    “You’re here now,” Susanna said calmly. “Let us find a place to work while we await the others.”
    By the time Miss Randolph and Lady May joined them, they’d settled on several sofas grouped together near a statue prominent under moonlight.
    “We’ll pretend it is an actual person,” Susanna said, walking about the white marble statue. It was of a young man, garbed in the loose, sleeveless tunic of ancient Rome, his well-muscled arms hanging fluidly at his side, his head turned as if he heard someone in the distance.
    Miss Norton giggled. “I used to pretend he was real, Caroline. Did you know that?”
    “You always were fanciful,” Caroline said fondly.
    Lady May, wearing a plain gown far different from her eveningwear, circled the statue right along with Susanna, then ran her hand down the arm. “If only he were real.”
    Susanna kept her amusement to herself. She’d spent many years sketching the real thing, but it was not something she could share with proper young ladies. Her own family didn’t even like discussing her work. It wasn’t as if the men were alive when she sketched them!
    “Ladies, take up your sketchbooks. Let us see if you can make the white of this marble shine against a dark background, yet still with a softness, a paleness that seems to hover in the darkness.”
    “You’re a poet, too,” Caroline said.
    The other three ladies laughed softly, and Susanna felt strangely included. It was a comfortable feeling, since only her family had ever been able to make her feel that way. She’d attended many house parties, of course, but had always spent her time with her sister or cousin. Perhaps she’d missed out on the chance for women friends not related to her.
    Their silence was companionable for long minutes, except for the occasional question directed at Susanna. The darkness seemed to recede, the moonlight brighten, until the