An Experienced Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page B

felt shy about trying to create. Maybe he feared that others would demand to see his work, and then mock his beginning attempts. Certainly he should be able to work on his painting without everyone else prying into his business.
    “I care about no man’s opinion, but I have a younger sister who is quite innocent. I would not like her to hear of it.”
    Was it so scandalous for a woman to teach a man how to paint? She supposed that in his world, it was. “I certainly won’t discuss it with anyone—and my maid is absolutely discreet. And of course there aren’t many people to take notice, out here in the country.” That made her think of something. “You will come out here, won’t you? I suppose I could come to London...or wherever it is you live...”
    “I do live in London, for now.”
    “Yes. Well, I could come there, but it wouldn’t be nearly as private,” she said.
    “That is precisely what I was thinking, Miss Bell.”
    “Besides, I already have everything set up perfectly here.” Genevieve didn’t relish the idea of lugging canvasses and brushes on the train to some gentleman’s quarters.
    “I see.” Mr. Creighton looked bemused.
    “Well, perhaps we should discuss times, and fees, and so forth.”
    “Fees?” For some reason Genevieve could not guess, he seemed to find her choice of words surprising. He really was a strange man, though she liked him.
    “Well, then,” he said. “This is what I propose. We can meet once a week, on whatever evening is convenient for you. I can give you thirty pounds this week to begin, and then thirty pounds at the beginning of every month.”
    “I beg your pardon.”
    Surely he didn’t mean to pay her that much for such a small amount of work?
    “Very well, forty,” he said. “Is that agreeable to you?”
    Good heavens! The man had just tripled her regular income!
    “That is certainly agreeable—most generous of you, I’m sure,” she managed to stammer.
    “Excellent. My banker will send you the money directly. Which evening would you prefer?”
    “Whatever evening is good for you, Mr. Creighton,” she replied, a little breathlessly.
    They settled on Tuesdays, seven o’clock. “I do thank you,” she said as she showed him to the door. “I can assure you that you won’t be disappointed in my instruction. If you’ll pardon me for saying it myself, I am quite a good artist.”
    “Artist?” he repeated, looking momentarily confused. His puzzlement confused her too.
    Then he gave a slight smile. “Oh, yes—I’m sure you are. Quite proficient in the art of love—I have no doubt.” He inclined his head toward her, then turned away and opened the door. “Until Tuesday night.”
    The very breath stopped in her lungs.
    The art of love?
    Surely he didn’t think...
    He did. He hadn’t been talking about art lessons at all.
    What had she done to deserve such an insult?
    True, she wasn’t an untouched virgin. But that didn’t mean that she was a piece of property, either, to be purchased and used by any gentleman who had the inclination to do so.
    Shaky with indignation, she opened her mouth to tell him that he’d made a terrible and a very offensive mistake.
    But she couldn’t think of what to say. She stood there, staring at his back as he sauntered toward his carriage.
    What had she done?
    Genevieve closed the door, put her hands against her burning cheeks and sat down. She realized that Flory was in the room, but the maid kept a tactful silence.
    Genevieve scarcely believed it. Propositioned like that in her own home—like a common prostitute!
    Well, not exactly a common prostitute. More like a high-class mistress. But then again, what was the difference?
    She supposed the difference was quite a few pounds.
    Inside she groaned. How excited she’d been when he named his fee. How easy things would be with that money! But more than that, the idea of commanding such a price made her feel that she began to be respected as an artist in her own