Page 11 (1/1)

Mather went scarlet "Blackguard stole her out fro her some pack of lies The man is a snake"

Likely the lady had found out about Mather’s longing for his old school days of corporal punishment Fellows had learned that Mather kept a house of ladies where he indulged in that sort of thing Inspector Fellows liked to be thorough

Mather looked away "I shouldn’t like that to get about The newspapers"

"I understand, sir" Fellows tapped his nose in imitation of Mather "It will be between us"

Mather nodded, his face still red Fellows left the house in great spirits, then returned to Scotland Yard and requested leave

After five long years, he at last saw a chink in the arer in the chink and rip their ar" Beth carried the newspaper to better light at the , but the tiny print said the sa

"What is,Irish girl who’d grown up in Beth’s husband’s parish, looked up froht from a Parisian boutique Beth thren the newspaper and lifted her satchel of art things "Nothing io?" Katie fetched wraps and parasols,way up that hill to watch you stare at a blank piece of paper"

"Perhaps today I will be inspired"

Beth and Katie left the narrow house Beth had hired and cliy her French foote with a coachal by habit She saw no reason to keep an extravagant conveyance she didn’t need Today she drove distractedly, her gloved hands fidgety, much to the horse’s and Katie’s annoyance The newspaper she’d been reading was the Telegraph from London She took several Paris newspapers as well, her father having taught her to speak and read French fluently, but she liked to keep up as going on at home What vexed Beth today was a story about how lords Ian and Cahting about a woman The woman in question was a famous soprano, the very one who’d enchanted Beth at Covent Garden the week before Many people had witnessed the event and related it to the newspapers with glee

Beth shook the reins impatiently, and the horse tossed his head While Beth didn’t regret turning down Lord Ian’s proposal, it was a bit galling to find that he’d been quarreling with his brother over the heavy-bosomed soprano shortly after Beth had refused him She’d have liked hiet the story and concentrated on h the wide Parisian boulevards that became the jumbled streets of Montmartre At the top of the hill she found a boy to watch the horse and buggy, and she trekked to the little green she liked, Katie gru of a village, with narrow, crooked streets,boxes bursting with su slopes down to the city It was a far cry froe public parks of Paris, which, Beth understood, hy artists and their models had flocked to Montmartre That and the rents were cheap Beth set up her easel in her usual place and sat down, pencil poised over a clean piece of paper Katie plopped onto the bench next to her, listlessly watching the artists, would-be artists, and hangers-on who roamed the streets This was the third day Beth had sat here studying the vista of Paris, the third day her paper had remained blank She’d realized after her initial excite pencils, paper, and easel that she had no idea how to draw Still, she’d cos If nothing else, she and Katie were getting plenty of exercise

"Do you think she’s an artist’s model?" Katie asked She jerked her chin at a lovely red-haired woman who strolled with several other ladies on the other side of the street The woossamer overskirt pulled back to reveal a beribboned underskirt Her small hat was tastefully trimmed with flowers and lace and tipped provocatively over her eyes Her parasol le

She had an air of allure about her thatshe did on purpose, Beth decided with a touch of envy Everything about her enticed She was simply a joy to look at

"I couldn’t say," Beth replied after an all-over surveillance

"But she certainly is very pretty"

"I wish I were beautiful enough to be a hed "Not that I would Me dear old mother would whip the skin offoff their clothes to be painted"

"Perhaps" The woman disappeared around the corner with her cluster of friends, lost to sight

"And what about hilanced to where Katie indicated, and froze The ed on a bench with one foot on it and lob paint on a canvas He was a bigon the delicate stone bench He had dark hair touched with red, a square, hard face, and enticingly broad shoulders Beth’s breath poured back into her lungs as she realized the man was not, in fact, Lord Ian Mackenzie He looked veryface, the same air of power, the saht, he having set his hat on the bench next to him