The Art of Sinning Read Online Free PDF

gossiping about her making a scene at the wedding breakfast of her friend . . . who happened to have jilted her brother.
    â€œLady Yvette?” Mr. Keane prompted in a steely voice.
    She cast him the coolest smile she could muster. “Yes, of course, Mr. Keane. I would be delighted.”
    Then she took his hand and let him sweep her into a waltz.
    As soon as they were moving, he said, “You have every right to be angry with your brother.”
    â€œMy feelings toward my brother are none of your concern.”
    â€œI was telling the truth about wanting to paint you.”
    She snorted. “I don’t know how much money—”
    â€œBut not for a portrait.” He bent close enough to whisper in her ear, “Though he doesn’t know that.”
    That caught her so off guard that when Mr. Keane pulled back to fix her with a serious gaze, she couldn’t at first summon a single answer.
    â€œI see I finally have your attention,” he said.
    â€œOh, you always had my attention,” she said testily. “Just not the sort of fawning attention you probably prefer.”
    A faint smile crossed his lips. “Tell me, Lady Yvette, do you have something against artists in general? Or is it just I who rub you the wrong way?”
    â€œI don’t trust charming rogues, sir. I’ve encountered enough of your kind to know all your tricks.”
    He arched one eyebrow. “I seriously doubt that.”
    When he then twirled her in a turn, she realized with a start that they’d been waltzing effortlessly all this time. That almost never happened with her. Few men knew how to deal with an ungainly Amazon like her on the dance floor.
    That softened her toward him a little. A very little. “So what exactly do you want to paint me for, anyway?”
    â€œAn entirely different work. And agreeing to your brother’s request seemed the only way to get close enough to you to arrange that.”
    She eyed him skeptically.
    â€œAsk Blakeborough if you don’t believe me. Before I knew who he was, who you were, I wanted you to sit for me. I decided it the moment I saw you enter the room. I asked your brother who you were; he asked why I wanted to know, and I told him.”
    His gaze locked with hers, as sincere a one as she’d ever seen. But then, Lieutenant Ruston had seemed sincere at first, too. “Why on earth would you want to paint me ?”
    â€œNo clue. I never know why particular models intrigue me; just that they do. And I always follow my instincts.”
    Yvette blinked. He could have claimed it had something to do with her looks. The fact that he hadn’t lent more credence to his assertion. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” And rather flattering.
    â€œIt is ridiculous, isn’t it? But true, I swear.”
    â€œSo what exactly are the terms of your ‘transaction’ with my brother?”
    He flinched. “Your brother is an ass.”
    â€œNot really. Just rather oblivious to other people’s feelings sometimes.” She cast him a hard stare. “Answer the question.”
    With a long-suffering sigh, he tightened his grip on her hand. “I am to paint your portrait. In exchange, he is to drum up some gentlemen who might be interested in courting my sister.”
    She gaped at him. “What a pair of nodcocks you are! Has it occurred to either of you that your sisters are perfectly capable of finding husbands on their own if they so choose? That perhaps we— Wait a minute. I thought your sister lived in America.”
    â€œShe’s on her way here. She means to drag me home to help her with the family mills.” He cracked a smile. “I mean to fob some other fellow off on her who can go in my stead.”
    His look of boyish mischief seduced her. Until sheput herself in his sister’s shoes. “First you abandon her to go flitting about Europe. And now that