Page 90 of What a Lord Wants

At that, her face turned absolutely blazing. “You’d better.”

Laughing, he scandalously stole a kiss to her neck. That was the only taste of her that he could have in the crowded gallery, but it was enough to reassure her and added to the growing trust between them.

From the other side of the gallery, the Superintendent of the British Institution raised his arm to gain the attention of the room. It was time for the varnishing to end. The other painters hurried to make last-minute changes to their paintings, but Dom remained at her side.

“Aren’t you going to touch up your painting?” she asked.

He stared down into her eyes. “I’d rather stay right here with you.”

A warmth blossomed in her chest. He should have been here this morning, in fact, when the doors were open and varnishing day began, when the artists all had their first glimpses of the competition. Instead, he’d remained at home with her, bringing her breakfast in bed. That small gesture did more to reassure her that he was serious about the role she would play in his life going forward than all his words from the night before.

She slid her hand down into his and affectionately squeezed his fingers.

They watched together as the artists fussed over their paintings, applied last bits of color and glaze, and touched up the sheen of their varnishes. Eve noticed with pride how all the men’s gazes kept returning to Dom’s painting to gauge it against their own, and she smiled with a stifled laugh of happiness every time one of them read the signature and was startled to discover who had painted it.

Of course, she was biased, but Dom would surely win. He would be established as an artist in his own right, and Vincenzo could quietly disappear, with all the scandalous gossip right along with him. No more secrets. Finally, they could have the future she’d dreamed of having with him, in a loving home surrounded by family, with Dom free to paint openly and receive all the accolades he deserved. She would be by his side, loving and being loved in return.

She leaned closer to wantonly murmur, “When we take that carriage ride home tonight, I think—”

A flash of red at the rear of the gallery caught her attention.Constance.

Eve stiffened. What the devil was she doing here?

In a gown of red satin, she lingered at the rear of the long gallery, alone. Lord Alfred Wembley was nowhere to be seen. She kept herself apart from the other guests, yet she gazed around the galley with confidence.

Dom frowned at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Constance is here,” she whispered.

That familiar mask came down over his face as he glanced around the gallery. Eve knew the moment he saw the woman, because his eyes narrowed for just a beat. Then he forced a smile and turned back to watch the porters bring out the paintings for the auction. Each canvas was covered with a sheet, ready to be revealed one by one when they were presented for bids.

“So she is,” he drawled impassively.

He wasn’t at all surprised, which meant… “You knew she would be here.”

“I had my suspicions. But don’t let her presence bother you. Tonight is about us.”

How could she not let this horrible woman bother her? Unable to ignore the sharp squeeze of her chest in alarm, Eve glanced at Constance, who was now making her way toward them, watching Dom closely. And very interestedly. Every inch of her reminded Eve of a lioness on the prowl, especially her claws that she apparently wanted to dig into Dom.

“I don’t trust her.” She tightened her fingers in his as the memory of all the threats that Constance had made that day in the park rushed over her. Including how she expected to become Dom’s lover again.

“It’s all right. She’s nothing but a nuisance.”

Oh, she desperately wanted to believe him! But… “If she’shere, tonight, then—”

“Our first painting of the auction is a very special donation,” the supervisor of the Institution called out above the noise of the crowd to get their attention. He gestured for the first painting to be maneuver into place.

Dom squeezed her fingers. “I would never let her do anything to hurt you.”

She nodded and fought to keep down the rising dread inside her.

“A new, never-before seen work…by Italian artist Domenico Vincenzo!”

Dom startled. Her hand slipped through his fingers as he spun around to face the supervisor. “What do you—”

The supervisor grabbed the sheet and whisked it away.

A startled gasp went up from the crowd at the sight of the painting, and Eve’s hand went to her throat. The room pitched and rolled beneath her. Every beat of her heart came as an agonizing thud.