He already called her Corinna in his head. He'd thought of her as Corinna ever since he'd heard her name called out in the British Museum. And not being accustomed to the company of the peerage, he was likely to forget to add the Lady.
"I don't know," she said slowly. "That seems rather…intimate."
"You're the only one who knows my secret," he pointed out. "That's a rather intimate thing, don't you think? And we've kissed."
A dreamy look crossed her face. A look that doubled the speed of his pulse.
"Not that that's happening again," he quickly added, thinking maybe they'd be better off not using first names after all.
"All right," she said. "Now where were we…Sean?" She paused, looking dreamy again. "Oh, yes. You'd said that should Lord Lincolnshire learn the truth, he'd be able to will everything but his title to anyone he wanted. But at what cost? He'd be unhappy and disillusioned the rest of his days, and once he's gone, will it really matter whether Mr. Hamilton does or doesn't inherit? Lord Lincolnshire deserves happiness," she concluded with conviction. "That's the deciding factor."
She had a point. A lot of points, actually. But Lincolnshire's happiness wasn't the only consideration. "He's going to find out regardless. I'm not an artist, and I seem to keep proving that, over and over. The earl may be physically deteriorating, but his mind is sharp as a knife. It's only a matter of time before he realizes I cannot possibly be an accomplished landscapist, which means I cannot possibly be his nephew. How will he feel then? Wouldn't it be better for me to admit the truth than for him to discover it himself?"
"I'm an artist. I can cover for you. I can help you keep up the masquerade."
"You're not around enough to do that."
"I can be around enough. I'll visit Lord Lincolnshire every day. I'll keep close. You won't mind that, will you?"
Sure, he wouldn't mind. He liked torturing himself, lived to spend hours in her presence, bunching his fists to keep from touching her.
She licked her spoon again, an act so innocently sensuous, it took everything he had not to kiss her on the spot.
He grabbed the spoon instead. "I won't mind," he muttered, only adding to his legion of lies.
FIFTEEN
TEA BUNS
Mix a lot of Flower with some Sugar and a little Salt in a bowl, then put in Egges, Butter, halfe a cup of Milk and a measure of Yeast to make a thick dough. Allow to rise, then flatten and make rounde buns and allow to rise again before you bake.
A most genteel addition to afternoon tea, these buns encourage serenity.
—Georgiana, Countess of Greystone, 1806
YESTERDAY'S discovery that John Hamilton was really Sean Delaney—well, that and constantly reliving the kiss—had kept Corinna too distracted to take notice of the calendar. But today she'd realized it was May. The second of May, to be precise. Lady A's reception was on the fourteenth, and Summer Exhibition submissions were due on the nineteenth.
It usually took her at least two weeks to complete a painting. And for this one, she had yet to choose a subject.
Griffin had been gone a day longer than he'd said he would, yet with all the peace and quiet, she still wasn't making progress. The thought of that had kept her mind buzzing the entire afternoon at Juliana's home. Family and friends had assembled there, in Stafford House's beautiful Palm Room, to pen the invitations to the reception Lady A was planning to introduce Corinna to the art world.
All of Corinna's female relations had come, as well as ladies related to her relations. Alexandra and Juliana, and their three cousins, Rachael, Claire, and Elizabeth. A hugely pregnant Aunt Frances. Lady Avonleigh, of course, and her two sisters, Lady Balmforth and Lady Cavanaugh, who was also Juliana's mother-in-law.
It was touching. Corinna had never considered herself the sentimental type, but the thought of all of them them helping her made her throat feel tight.
"It was so kind of you all to come," Lady A said now as she rose to fetch her pelisse. "I was dreading writing these invitations, but with all the help, we finished in no time."
Juliana piled the leftover tea buns she'd served into a basket. "Have you need of any more assistance, Lady Avonleigh? With anything else at all?"
"Just encourage everyone to attend, please, all of you. Royal Academicians in particular, but anyone else influential as well. You all know the wording for the invitations now, so feel free to write out more should you think of anyone else who might be able to further Corinna's career. Above all, we must make certain the committee members all attend." Buttoning the pelisse, she turned to Corinna. "I'm sure John Hamilton will accept, as he's your personal acquaintance—"
"I wouldn't call him that," Corinna interrupted, suddenly nervous.
"You've danced together, my dear."
"He's a very busy man." Sean couldn't attend the reception—the Academy members would surely expose him as a fraud. "And you know he doesn't like to appear in public."
"Now that he's inheriting Lord Lincolnshire's title, I'm certain that will change. Don't fret, my dear; he shall attend." Lady A leaned closer and kissed Corinna's cheek, enveloping her in a cloud of gardenia and camphor scent. "Should you run into the man, you might encourage him to see that the other committee members accept as well."
Lady A certainly seemed more confident than Corinna felt. "I don't know.…"
Shrugging into her own light pelisse, Rachael paused. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Corinna fibbed. "Perfectly fine."
She couldn't help wondering if she'd done the right thing encouraging Sean to continue deceiving Lord Lincolnshire. In fact, it seemed she could think about little else. Besides the kiss. And the reception. And her looming deadline to finish her portrait.
But she was fine. Perfectly fine.
And she was lying to herself again.
Rachael patted her shoulder. "Don't get yourself
