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In his wanderings at Belgrave, Jack had, during a rainstored to locate a collection of books devoted to art It had not been easy; the castle boasted two separate libraries, and each must have held five hundred volumes at least But art books, he noticed, tended to be oversized, so he was able toout the sections with the tallest spines He pulled out these books, perused the for

He didn’t particularly wish to remain in the library, however; he’d always found it oppressive to be surrounded by so athered up those that looked theand took the room at the back of the castle

Grace’s roo else

It was to this roo encounter with Grace in the great hall He did not like to lose his temper; to be more precise, he loathed it

He sat there for hours, tucked into place at a reading table, occasionally rising to stretch his legs He was on his final volume - a study of the French rococo style - when a footman walked by the open doorway, stopped, then backed up

Jack looked back at hi, just scurried off in the direction from which he’d come

Two minutes later Jack was rewarded for his patience by the sound of feminine footsteps in the hall

Grace’s footsteps

He pretended to be engrossed in his book

"Oh, you’re reading," she said, sounding surprised

He carefully turned a page "I do so on occasion"

He could practically hear her roll her eyes as she walked in "I’ve been looking everywhere for you"

He looked up and affixed a smile "And yet here I am"

She stood hesitantly in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly before her She was nervous, he realized

He hated himself for that

He tilted his head in invitation,to the chair beside hi into the room

He turned his book toward the empty seat at the table "Have a look"

She did not sit ie of the table and leaned forward, peering down at the open pages "Art," she said

"My second favorite subject"

She gave him a shrewd look "You wish for me to ask you what your favorite is"

"Am I so obvious?"

"You are only obvious when you wish to be"

He held up his hands in mock dismay "And alas, it still doesn’t work You have not asked me what my favorite subject is"

"Because," she returned, sitting down, "I ahly inappropriate"

He placed one hand on his chest, the dra his equilibrium It was easier to play the jester No one expected as much from fools "I a to say that my favorite subject was seduction, or the art of a kiss, or the proper way to relove, or for that matter the proper way to re to say," he said, trying to sound beleaguered and henpecked, "that my favorite subject of late is you"

Their eyesunnerved her, and she quickly shifted her gaze to her lap He watched her, mesmerized by the play of emotions on her face, by the way her hands, which were clasped together atop the table, tensed and ," she said quite suddenly

He had to look back at the book to see which ie she referred to It was a rass The wo the ht he recognized the style "The Boucher?"

"Ye - no," she said, blinking in confusion as she leaned forward She looked down "Jean-Antoine Watteau," she read "The Faux Pas"

He looked down ht "I’d only just turned the page I think it does look rather like a Boucher, though Don’t you?"

She gave a tiny shrug "I’h with either artist to say I did not study painting - or painters - very much as a child My parents weren’t overly interested in art"

"How is that possible?"

She sh "It wasn’t so much that they weren’t interested, just that they were interested in other things more I think that above all they would have loved to travel Both of them adored maps and atlases of all sorts"

Jack felt his eyes roll up at that "I hate maps"

"Really?" She sounded stunned, and hted by his admission "Why?"

He told her the truth "I haven’t the talent for reading thehwayman"

"What has that to do with it?"

"Don’t you need to knohere you’re going?"

"Not nearly so much as I need to knohere I’ve been" She looked perplexed at that, so he added,

"There are certain areas of the country - possibly all of Kent, to be honest - it is best that I avoid"

"This is one of thoseseveral times in rapid succession, "when I a serious"

"Oh, very much so," he told her, almost cheerfully "Except perhaps for the bit about Kent"

She looked at hiht have been understating"

"Understating," she echoed

"There’s a reason I avoid the South"

"Good heavens"

It was such a ladylike utterance He alhed

"I don’t think I have ever known aa poor reader of ained her coroarm, then hot "I told you I was special"

"Oh, stop" She wasn’t looking at hie of expression Which probably explained why her tone reht and brisk as she said, "I er askedonce we disembark in Dublin"

He waved a hand "That I can do"

"Without amy school days"

She looked up and sically, as if she could see into his er you were not the head boy"

He lifted a brow "Do you know, I think most people would consider that an insult"

Her lips curved and her eyes gloith ht, of course, not that he was going to let her know it "And ould you think that?"

"You would never want to be head boy"

"Tooif that hat she thought of him

She opened her mouth, and he realized that she’d been about to say yes Her cheeks turned a bit pink, and she looked away for a"You are too ned with the administration"

"Oh, the administration," he could not help but echo with amusement

"Don’t make fun ofone brow "I do hope you realize you are saying this to a former officer in His Majesty’s army"

This she dis yourself as a rebel I rather suspect that at heart you’re just as conventional as the rest of us"

He paused, and then: "I hope you realize you are saying this to a forhwayman on His Majesty’s roads"

How he said this with a straight face, he’d never know, and indeed it was a relief when Grace, after aBecause really, he didn’t think he could have held that arch, offended expression for one er

He rather felt like he was i there like such a stick It unsettled the stomach, really

"You’re dreadful," Grace said, wiping her eyes

"I try ed a finger at hi all the while - "is why you will never be head boy"

"Good God, I hope not," he returned "I’d be a bit out of place athe was for school He still had dreahty But everyvisions where he was back at school (rather absurdly at his current age of eight-and-twenty) It was always of a similar nature He looked down at his schedule and suddenly realized he’d forgotten to attend Latin class for an entire term Or arrived for an exam without his trousers

The only school subjects he remembered with any fondness were sport and art Sport had always been easy He need only watch a game for a minute before his body knew instinctively how to move, and as for art - well, he’d never excelled at any of the practical aspects, but had always loved the study of it For all the reasons he’d talked about with Grace his first night at Belgrave

His eyes fell on the book, still open on the table between the to the painting It was not his favorite, but he did not find anything to offend

"She does not like hi down at the book, but he was looking at her, and he was surprised to see that her brorinkled Concern? Anger? He could not tell

"She does not want his attentions," Grace continued "And he will not stop Look at his expression"

Jack peered at the ie a little more closely He supposed he sahat she meant The reproduction was not what he would consider superior, and it was difficult to kno true it was to the actual painting

Certainly the color would be off, but the lines see insidious in the man’s expression Still

"But couldn’t one say," he asked, "that you are objecting to the content of the painting and not the painting itself?"

"What is the difference?"

He thought for a ed hiht be termed intellectual discourse "Perhaps the artist wishes to invoke this response Perhaps his intention is to portray this very scene It does not mean that he endorses it"

"I suppose" Her lips pressed together, the corners tightening in a manner that he’d not seen before He did not like it It aged her But more than that, it seemed to call to the fore an unhappiness that was alry, upset, resigned - it looked like she would never be happy again

Worse, it looked like she accepted it

"You do not have to like it," he said softly

Her mouth softened but her eyes remained clouded "No," she said, "I don’t" She reached forward and flipped the page, her fingers changing the subject "I have heard of Monsieur Watteau, of course, and he may be a revered artist, but - Oh!"

Jack was already s at the book as she’d turned the page But he had

"Oh my"

"Now that’s a Boucher," Jack said appreciatively

"It’s notI’ve never" Her eyes ide - two huge blue moons Her lips were parted, and her cheeksHe only just e to fan her

"Marie-Louise O’Murphy," he told her

She looked up in horror "You know her?"

He shouldn’t have laughed, but truly, he could not help it "Every schoolboy knows her Of her," he corrected "I believe she passed on recently In her dotage, have no fear Tragically, she was old enough to be azed down fondly at the wo provocatively on a divan She was naked - wonderfully, gloriously, cohtly arched as she leaned on the are She was painted from the side, but even so, a portion of the cleft of her buttocks was scandalously visible, and her legs

Jack sighed happily at the s were spread wide, and he was quite certain he had not been the only schoolboy to have i hi lad had lost his virginity (in dreams, but still) to Marie-Louise O’Murphy He wondered if the lady had ever realized the service she had provided

He looked up at Grace She was staring at the painting He thought - he hoped - shearoused

"You’ve never seen it before?" he murmured

She shook her head Barely She was transfixed

"She was theof France," Jack told her "It was said that the king saw one of Boucher’s portraits of her - not this one, I think, perhaps a miniature - and he decided he had to have her"

Grace’squite came out

"She came from the streets of Dublin," he said, "or so I’ the surnahed in fond recollection "We were always so proud to claiht stand behind her, leaning over her shoulder When he spoke, he knew that his words would land on her skin like a kiss "It’s quite provocative, isn’t it?"

Still, Grace seemed not to knohat to say Jack did notat the painting was faritself had ever been

"I alanted to go see it in person," he commented "I believe it is in Germany now Munich, perhaps But alas, my travels never tooklike it," Grace whispered

"It does make one feel, does it not?"

She nodded

And he wondered - if he had always dreahs, did Grace noonder what it was like to be her? Did she i on the divan, exposed to a aze

He would never allow anyone else to see her thus

Around them, the room was silent He could hear his own breath, each one more shaky than the last

And he could hear hers - soft, low, and co faster with each inhalation

He wanted her Desperately He wanted Grace He wanted her spread before hi He wanted her any way he could have her He wanted to peel the clothes from her body, and he wanted to worship every inch of her skin

He could practically feel it, the soft weight of her thighs in his hands as he opened her to him, the musky heat as he moved closer for a kiss

"Grace," he whispered

She was not looking at hiue darted out,the very center of her lips

She couldn’t have knohat that did to hiers She did not pull away

"Dance with ed at her gently, urging her to her feet

"There is no music," she whispered But she stood With no resistance, not even a hint of hesitation, she stood

And so he said the one thing that was in his heart

"We will make it ourselves"

There were so many moments when Grace could have said no When his hand touched hers When he pulled her to her feet

When he’d asked her to dance, despite the lack of ical moment