The Art of Taming a Rake (Legendary Lovers 4)
Alone with Traherne once more, Venetia returned to the earlier conversation. “I am surprised the Hortons were able to hire a staff on such short notice.”
“Wealth has its advantages.”
“Evidently. It feels rather awkward, however, being addressed as ‘my lady.’?”
“You will grow accustomed to being my countess in time. You aren’t living in exile any longer.”
Venetia arched an eyebrow and gestured with her hand at their surroundings. “What do you call this if not exile?”
“Hopefully Hawk can track down information on my mysterious assassin and our time here will be short-lived.”
She shuddered at the reminder.
Seeing her gesture, Tra
herne frowned. “I have not yet properly apologized for putting you in danger.”
“I suppose it was not strictly your fault that I was caught in the crossfire. And you didn’t deserve to be shot. I understand why Edmund Lisle would resent you if he believed you were trying to win back Lady X, but rake or no, you ought not have to die for stealing his mistress.”
“Your support is touching.” He smiled lazily, then distracted her by changing the subject. “What shall we do this afternoon? If you like I can take you to explore the grounds.”
“Is it wise for you to be tramping around the property? You could break open your wound.”
“I refuse to remain bedridden. Biddy said that an easy soak in the spring would be good for my wound, but I think I will wait another day before testing the waters. I may need your help bathing tomorrow, though.” At her hesitation, Traherne’s blue eyes flickered with amusement. “The sooner I recover, the sooner I can protect us myself and we can return to London.”
Venetia started to decline but changed her mind. She wanted to help him heal quickly so they could end their enforced intimacy quickly. “Perhaps I will,” she said noncommittally.
“In any case, we ought to make the best of the situation,” Traherne said. “A week or two in Somerset will be deadly dull—unless we find some other form of entertainment to occupy us. How do you feel about fishing?”
“Fishing?”
“There are several streams and lakes nearby. The sport should be adequate to pass the time.”
“I have never fished before, but I enjoy the outdoors. I will be happy to take my sketch pad and try my hand at drawing the countryside while you do battle with the fish.”
At the completion of their meal, he found a fishing rod and line in the gardener’s shed behind the cottage, then led her along a footpath through the woods to a meadow scattered with wildflowers.
And so it was that they spent the lovely spring afternoon beside a rushing stream. The climate was significantly warmer here than London in recent days, and Venetia was comfortable in a pelisse and bonnet as she settled on the grassy slope. Traherne stretched out beside her, half reclining on his elbows, and idly dipped his line in the water while she sketched the pretty landscape with a charcoal pencil.
Her gaze drifted to him frequently, though. She kept wanting to sketch his handsome profile instead of the country vista. Sunlight played with the elegant planes of his face and heightened the gold glints in his hair and the shadow of stubble on his strong jaw.
It would have been a companionable silence, except that she was far too aware of him and her regrettable lapse in judgment this morning. Her lips still tingled and burned from his kisses; her skin felt the imprint of his body against hers.
Whatever had possessed her to allow his caresses to go so far?
She was asking herself the same question later when he interrupted her wayward thoughts. “May I see what you are drawing?”
When she passed over her sketch pad rather reluctantly, he studied her rendering of the meadow scene with interest.
“You show talent.”
His praise warmed her, even if it was not strictly warranted. “Thank you, but I am still a rank amateur. My ability to portray inanimate objects and landscapes is rather mediocre at best. I am actually better at depicting people. For some reason, I have a knack for capturing facial expressions.”
“Is that why you took up sculpting?”
“That, and as a way to occupy myself. When I first arrived in Paris after the…debacle of my broken engagement, I had a great deal of time on my hands. I dislike lazing around, feeling useless with no purpose.”
He gave a short laugh. “I can well understand that sentiment. Our interval here will be the longest I have ever gone with nothing to do. I would imagine sculpture is a very different art form than sketching or painting.”