Page 23 of A Misguided Devotion

Why was this woman—Kitty, Miss Barrington had called her—determined to put him in the wrong?

He tried a different tack. “Have pity on me.”

That seemed to pique her interest. “Pity?”

“Your friend has changed the meaning of beauty. Golden blond pales into insignificance compared with the richness of her chestnut brown hair. Her neck is like an alabaster pillar—”

“Shame on you, sir. Don’t you know outward appearances are fleeting, and that true beauty comes from within?”

Of course he knew it. His father had preached the same message from his pulpit often enough. “But how do you capture inner beauty with a paintbrush?”

Kitty’s eyes twinkled up at him. “Ah! You are the artist who wants to paint my friend. That would explain the blue smudge on your cheek.”

William swallowed a groan. How typical. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped it across his face, but he did not allow his momentary discomposure to put him off.

“Your own argument fails you. If superficial beauty remains for such a brief time, how much more important it is to capture it before it fades. It would be a crime to let such loveliness pass without trying to record it on canvas.”

Kitty drew her lips together, her face a picture of disapproval, but before she could retort, a man reached the foot of the path down the cliff and strode across the beach toward them.

It was him again. The one who had interrupted his previous conversation with his muse.

The newcomer gave Kitty a passing glance and then fixed her friend with an admiring gaze. “Good day, Miss Barrington.”

“Good day, Mr Jenkin. It has been some time since our paths crossed. You will not know that my father has engaged a companion for me—Miss Lacey.”

She turned to Kitty. “Mr Jenkin is a most valuable member of our society. He is our local preventive officer. Papa is a magistrate and works with him to keep the smuggling trade under control.”

The man gave a stiff bow, and the other woman acknowledged the introduction, but her gaze flitted between him and her companion. Was she, like William, trying to deduce whether there was any attachment between them?

It was impossible to say. The man’s admiration was patent, but Miss Barrington’s tone, though pleasant, was not overly warm, and her eyes darted from side to side as if she were nervous. If the attraction was mutual, she wasn’t going to admit it, and his presence had failed to elicit the captivating expression that had graced her face when William had first seen her.

Mr Jenkin cast him a look of loathing and returned his attention to Miss Barrington. “I know who he is. He’s the fellow who alleged he wanted to paint you. Is he still bothering you?”

How awkward. William could not claim an acquaintance with the beauty, and her friend had asked him to leave several times, so she had every right to condemn him for pestering her.

Perhaps it would be wisest to retreat graciously and try again another day. He waited for Miss Barrington to answer, but to his surprise, it was her companion who smoothed things over.

“This gentleman was kind enough to prevent me from falling when I stumbled on the path down to the beach, and we exchanged a few words. That is all. He is just taking his leave of us.”

By the slightest lift of her brow, she urged him to follow her lead, but the satisfied smile on her lips revealed she was aware she had won their tussle. His eyes blazed with admiration at the clever manoeuvre. But though Kitty might think she had been victorious, he knew better.

He swept an exaggerated bow toward the two ladies. “Your servant.”

Turning on his heel, he headed back up the path, a wide grin on his face. No woman could withstand his charm forever.

Chapter 8

Kitty walked up the cliff path after Laura. It was only to be expected that such a pretty girl should have admirers, but she hadn’t anticipated encountering two of them on her first full day on Portland.

To honour Hugh’s request, she must try to guard his daughter from unacceptable suitors. Did he have one of these gentlemen in mind when he had asked her to take on the role of protector, or had he been talking in general terms? How was she to know who he deemed unsuitable unless he was explicit?

Perhaps it was simpler than that. Her presence protected Laura from receiving any amorous attentions that her father might object to, whether or not he approved of the man in question.

She considered the two men they’d met. Did her friend favour either of them? Worse than that, had she planned to meet one of them? It was hard to tell.

Kitty could not criticise Mr Jenkin’s behaviour. Although his protective instincts had been aroused by the other man’s presence, he had acted the perfect gentleman. Only by the tenderness in his gaze when he looked at Laura was it clear he viewed her with anything more than friendly interest.

It was harder to judge the tall, blond-haired artist. The glazed-over look in his eyes led her to believe he was besotted with her friend—a belief that was supported by his persistence.