Chapter 11

CHAPTER11

“God damn it.” Anthony flattened out the paper on the table beside him, practically kicking the easel away in his anger. “No. No! They cannot say such things.”

Yet, the scandal sheet was plain to read. In black and white, a connection had been drawn between him and Susanna, and it had not been painted in a flattering light. It was constantly derogatory toward Susanna, illustrating errors in her outdated fashion choices and her lack of what it called ‘accomplishments.’

‘The young lady in question is certainly a suspect companion for a duke. A woman with no skill at the pianoforte or dancing would certainly make for a poor duchess. Not to mention the gowns she chooses to wear are of past fashions. This is nothing new or striking in her appearance at all. Is the Duke of Belbridge wise to continue this friendship? Or will the two dances that they have already shared be their last?’

A light tap came at the door.

“Who is it?” Anthony snapped, nearly crumpling the scandal sheet in his anger.

“It’s only me.” The door opened wide, and Susanna stepped into Anthony’s studio. Behind her, the butler clearly sensed Anthony’s bad mood, for he hurried off, making himself scarce. Susanna fell completely still and stared at Anthony, her head cocked at an angle. “What has happened?”

“Happened? Take a look; see for yourself.” He thrust the scandal sheet toward her.

She took it carefully and began to unfold it.

“Well, you have rather crumpled it and made it difficult to read,” she murmured.

“It deserves to be thrown in a fire! Do these people have nothing better to do with their lives?” Anthony said in anger and turned away from the easel. He had been eager to paint that day until the butler had brought the scandal sheet to him with morning coffee.

“In my experience, people like to cause trouble.”

To Anthony’s surprise as Susanna read the scandal sheet, she began to giggle softly.

“You’re laughing?” he murmured, turning toward her as he flung off his tailcoat and tossed it over the back of a chair. “Susanna, how can you laugh? That article disparages us both!”

“Oh, it disparages me, but it only disparages you in connection with me. In fact, it says very little that is bad of you at all.” Susanna smiled and pointed at the article. “See here, it questions your good opinion in the company you keep. That is all.”

“But… does it not bother you?” Anthony asked and stepped forward. Susanna looked up from the article, her eyebrows arched in clear surprise.

“Why would it? It is nothing more than I have heard said before. You think I am a stranger to gossip or the way people point? As for my choice in fashion…” She paused and gestured down to the gown. “What do I care for their opinion in that regard? I choose gowns I like, not ones that are the height of fashion.”

“Yet, they judge you by it!” Anthony was finding it difficult to calm down. He took the scandal sheet back from her, finding his eyes dancing across the words once again. “Good Lord, if my mother should see this, she would despair.”

“Would your mother truly care if your dance partner could not dance properly? Would she mind if I wore capped sleeves rather than the longer more fashionable sleeves?”

“Yes, she would!” Anthony turned away, angered by his own words. He dropped the scandal sheet to the table once again and thrust his hands into his hair, pulling on the tendrils until he could feel the pain in his scalp. It helped to soften the frustration a little.

“Then for one thing, I think your mother takes far too much interest in the mundane aspects of your life.” Susanna’s words were followed by a short laugh.

Anthony turned, unable to join in the laughter on this occasion. His own manner clearly did not amuse her, for her laughter fell dead. “Anthony… this,” she paused and snatched up the scandal sheet, “is unimportant. It is a few words printed on a piece of paper. It hardly affects your life.”

“It affects what people think,” Anthony tried to explain. “My mother always says, one shouldn’t appear in a scandal sheet.”

“She also told a boy he couldn’t run and jump in rivers,” Susanna pointed out with raised eyebrows. “I do not think all her teachings have to be listened to.”

Something in Susanna’s words made Anthony stand straight, startled by them. He thought of a different world for a minute, one where as a boy he might have been encouraged to go on such adventures in the garden and on the estate rather than told to sit at home, so his shoes would not become dirty.

“This matters to you?” Susanna asked, waving the scandal sheet in front of Anthony in emphasis.

“What was your first clue?”

“Oh! You are angry today.”

“Not angry, merely…” He struggled to find the right word. “Frustrated. I do not want the world talking about us, Susanna. Not like this.”

“What would you rather they say?” Susanna took a step back and flattened the scandal sheet out. “Let me guess…” She cleared her throat and put on a rather formal and refined accent. “‘The Duke of Belbridge was seen last night with a particularly fine lady on his arm. No woman is her equal in formality, politeness, or propriety.’” She paused long enough to catch his eye before she continued. “‘The Duke is quite the envy of the town, for who could not want such a ladylike woman on their arm?’”

She flattened the scandal sheet once again. “There, would that be better? If that is what it said?”

“Susanna, I didn’t mean any insult.” Anthony began to understand how it sounded to Susanna’s ears. This was their first argument of any kind, a bicker, but he hated it already, and the guilt was growing in him. “It’s just that the things said, they get to me.”

“Which part?” Susanna rounded the table beside the easel and came to stand beside him. She pinned the scandal sheet to the blank canvas that was there, the better so they could read it together. “Is it what they said about me? Perhaps that I cannot play the piano? Or that I cannot dance exceedingly well? Do you think such things reflect on their opinion of you?”

Anthony was lost for words, staring at her.

I hadn’t meant this insult. Now… I cannot take it back.

“Let me tell you something, Anthony.” She turned to face him with her arms folded in front of her. “I hardly care what is in this article. Yes, I am a poor piano player, for I would infinitely rather be in the garden than trying to play the piano better than the next lady of the ton. As for dancing, I prefer to enjoy the company of my partner rather than impress him with my skills.”

“Susanna, please –” He tried to take the scandal sheet off the canvas, but she lifted a hand and placed her palm flat to it, refusing to let it move.

“Anthony, look at me for a minute, I beg of you.” At her plea, he happily acquiesced, turning his eyes on her. Her eyes were practically glittering with the vigor of her conversation, and the two of them were standing closer together than he had first realized. “Do not think of that scandal sheet for a minute. Do not think of anything it says nor of the opinions of people reading it. I ask you to think of one thing only.”

“Which is?”

“Do you like me as I am?” Her question was soft in the air. The gentleness cut through the previous frustration. Anthony sighed and moved himself toward her. Resting his forehead on hers, the intimacy shifted in the air.

“You know I do,” he said quietly.

“These lessons then, you are not trying to change me?” she asked.

“No. Not at all.” He lifted his head off hers. “Merely trying to learn from you, more than anything else.”

“Then if you like me, who cares if the writer of this scandal sheet does not?” She lifted her hand off the paper and gestured to it another time.

“I know I shouldn’t care. I know.” Anthony lifted his hands and covered his face, half hoping that by blocking out the world for a minute, he could organize his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any insult by this. It is just… after all these years, I cannot help caring what the world thinks of me, Susanna.”

Anthony felt Susanna’s hands curl around his own. Slowly, her fingers peeled his from his face, so that she could see him.

“I can see that,” she said quietly. “You have been trained to care what they think, have you not?”

Anthony jolted, realizing how right she was. He thought of the time as a boy he had trailed mud into the house after exploring a pond. His mother had wailed, crying out what would the housekeeper think of his behavior.

Another time, when he was an adolescent, he had wanted to speak to Joseph of some books he had read in the library when his father had interrupted the conversation, saying those books were not right for a young gentleman to read. He encouraged Anthony to talk of different books altogether.

“I have.” Anthony sighed and wrapped his hands around Susanna’s. For a minute, he said nothing but merely entwined their fingers together, thinking of that feeling and nothing else. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You have already said that once, but you do not need to say it. I can see it upsets you.” Susanna shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Yet, please know this, Anthony. I do not care what is written of me in the scandal sheets. I think life is too short to worry myself with such things.” She tilted her chin higher. “I would much rather spend my days doing something I love than read the cruel thoughts of another. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. That sounds infinitely preferable.”

“Good. Then this is what we will do.” She released his hands and turned back to the canvas then she snatched up the scandal sheet and began to tear it up into little pieces.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of it.” She moved to one of the windows set in the oval-shaped studio and flung it open before throwing the tiny scraps of paper in the air. They danced like butterflies and moths for a minute before flying away on the wind. “There, now those scraps can be taken by the birds to make nests, so at least something good comes of that scandal sheet.” When she closed the window again, Anthony laughed.

It was a deep laugh, one he indulged in, for he felt he had freedom to do so now that she had cast that scandal sheet out of his life.

“I feel as if I have just been given another lesson,” he said softly as she turned back to face him.

“Good, now then.” Susanna moved to stand beside him by the canvas. He longed to reach out and take her hand, to touch her in anyway, but her focus was on the canvas, not him. “You wished to paint today?”

“I did.”

“Would you like me to be your model again?” she asked excitedly, turning to face him with a mischievous smile.

What is she up to?

“I would,” he said slowly, longing to see where she was going to go with this.

“Well, let me think.” She stepped back, turned in a circle and tapped her chin as she looked at her gown. “Something tells me this gown will not do. It is not the height of fashion as your scandal sheet pointed out.”

“I thought we were forgetting that scandal sheet,” Anthony pointed out, preparing his paints, and mixing new colors.

“We are. Yet, if the gown is no good, then something must be done about it.” She turned round and presented the back of her gown to him. “Help me with these laces then.”

Anthony dropped his paint brush with a clatter onto the table. Something in his gut had stirred with excitement at her words. His eyes danced over the back of the gown and where the laces were neatly tied on her upper back.

“Unless you wish me to stay as I am?” she asked playfully, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Anthony needed no more encouragement. He reached for the laces and began to untie them. The knots fell away in his hand, just as Susanna reached for the silken sleeves and began to pull down her gown.

Anthony crossed to the windows with haste. He pulled the curtains across, blocking out any chance of the gardeners that were working that day from seeing her though he left the curtains parted with a small slit, enough to let in sunlight. Turning back to Susanna, he found her gown was gone, tossed away somewhere at the side of the room, leaving her in her corset and her chemise.

“There, is that better?” she asked, coming to stand in front of him.

“Almost.” His tone was playful as he urged her to turn around again. She giggled softly as she turned, allowing him to reach for the laces at the back of her corset. These were not so simple to undo and took at least a minute to unravel before the whalebone structure fell away, leaving her in just her chemise and stockings. “There. That is the picture I would like to paint,” he whispered to her and leaned down toward her. His lips caressed her neck, unable to resist her.

When a gasp escaped her lips, he pulled back, knowing he had to restrain himself.

I will not make Susanna my mistress. Whatever this feeling is, it is so much more than something that could be described so simply!

“Where do you want me?”

“Oh, do not ask me like that. My answer will be creative.” Once again, Anthony’s mind was full of images. This time, he and Susanna were both bare in this studio, sitting on the chaise longue on one end of the room with her above him, straddling him, rocking over his body. He shook off the image that made sweat build down his spine and gestured to the chaise longue. “Be comfortable. That is all I ask.”

Susanna moved to the chaise longue and sat back upon it, instantly reclining in comfort. She was there for just a minute before she reached forward to a table beside her where Anthony had placed a vase that morning.

“A peony!” she said, picking the peony out of the vase.

“It is your favorite, is it not?” Anthony asked, moving to stand in front of the easel. “I went searching for it this morning in the garden.” His words made her smile grow, and she lifted the bloom to her nose, inhaling the scent. “There. Hold that position.”

She did as he asked, and Anthony moved quickly. He painted with wild abandon, barely taking the time to breathe, let alone to stand back and consider his composition. All he could think of was committing this moment to the canvas. He painted Susanna’s hair, her face, and the peony, but when it came to her body, he found the chemise hid what he truly wanted to paint.

Would it be too much to ask her…?

His paintbrush hovered over the canvas for a minute. She evidently sensed his hesitation, for she lifted her head from the peony a little.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

“I wish to ask you something, yet I am nervous about doing so,” he confessed. “You can say no.”

“Surely, you have seen by now I encourage boldness?” Her mischievous smile encouraged him on. He lowered his paintbrush a little and then gestured to the chemise.

“Susanna,” he whispered her name softly. “Some of the best paintings I have seen are of the body, the form, alone.”

“Ah, I see.” She sat forward and placed the peony down beside her. “Is your curiosity defeating you?”

“Perhaps a little.” Anthony felt the thrill grow through his body as Susanna reached down.

First, she placed her hands under the chemise and lowered her stockings, one at a time, revealing her milky long legs that had him growling under his breath. Next, she took the hem of her chemise and lifted it over her head, revealing her body to him.

Anthony nearly dropped the paintbrush and had to catch it from the air as he looked at her. She was beautiful, and the natural curve of her breasts and her hips had his body rising to the occasion. He had to stand firmly behind the canvas, to make sure she wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing to him.

“I thought you were supposed to look at the canvas a little when painting,” she said playfully as she picked up the peony once again, returning to her pose.

Anthony laughed and shifted his gaze between the canvas and her body as he continued to paint her.

“Well, perhaps I am a little distracted,” he confessed. “Surely you cannot blame me.” His words made her blush grow.

Anthony found himself completely distracted. The canvas was coming to life, and the painting was intoxicating, yet he couldn’t stop lifting his gaze to Susanna either. He wanted to go to her, to touch her, to indulge in more of those kisses.

Not now. This is a first step…

He sighed, pausing with the paintbrush as his eyes shifted to her, dancing along those curves.

“Is something wrong?” She lifted her nose from the peony.

“No. I was just thinking…” he paused and held her gaze. “I’m bending all the rules with you.”

“Shall we continue to bend them?” she asked.

“Oh, I intend to.” He returned his paintbrush to the canvas again.