The salon was mostly blue, so she knew Sean could see just how gorgeous it was. Designed for lavish entertainments, it was decorated in the Italian style. Splendid blue and gold furniture matched ornate blue and gold curtaining that hung from gilt rods. The coved ceiling was painted in the palazzo manner, and the walls were broken up by alternating silk panels and mirrors in highly ornamental frames, the latter reflecting the room's sparkling gold and crystal chandeliers.
All day Corinna had feared she'd splatter paint and ruin something. But of all the rooms in the house, it had the largest north-facing windows, so Lord Lincolnshire had insisted it was the best place to sit for his portrait.
Then her head cleared, and she realized Sean wasn't impressed with the salon. He was looking at her painting.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, turning to see it herself. She resumed wiping her palette. "But I've only just started, really."
"You started this morning, before I left. You've been working all day."
"Time flies when I'm involved in a painting. But I think I wore out poor Lord Lincolnshire. Two footmen helped him up to bed two hours ago." She set the palette on the mosaic table she'd covered for her use. "Do you think it would be all right for me to leave everything here overnight?"
"I'm sure it will be fine. The man's unlikely to hold an entertainment anytime soon." He walked closer to the painting, peering at it. "You've laid in the basics of him already. And the background is magnificent. So detailed. How did you do that so quickly?"
"Oh, that was already done." She began cleaning her brushes. "I've been working on it for days in the square. I just hadn't decided who to put into it."
He paused for a significant beat before he turned to her. "So you wanted to paint Lincolnshire. You didn't offer only to save my skin."
"You've caught me out." Swirling three brushes in turpentine, she grinned. "I think I'm finally going to complete a good portrait. One fine enough to put on display. I've always wanted to, but…"
"But what?"
"Women don't usually, you know? Paint portraits, I mean. It's not considered very ladylike. We're supposed to paint only scenes and still lifes." Setting the brushes aside, she sighed. "I'm tired of painting apples and bottles and trees."
"You paint very good trees," he pointed out, gesturing toward her picture.
"I've had lots of practice," she said dryly.
"You have goals," he said. "I admire that."
"Everyone has goals. Of some sort."
"But your goals go beyond those expected of your gender. You'll have to overcome great odds to achieve them, yet you're not letting that stop you. I applaud you for that."
"Thank you," Corinna said softly. She'd never had a man say he admired her, let alone imply he expected she'd reach her goals. Griffin was supportive, of course, but that was his job. He was her brother. And while she had no doubt he wished the best for her—while she was sure he wanted her happy—she'd never felt he truly believed she'd see the success she hoped to achieve.
Griffin believed her art was a hobby, something to keep her occupied until she married.
Sean, on the other hand, seemed to believe in her. And as Amanda had thought in Children of the Abbey, in return her heart felt he was one of the most amiable, most pleasing of men.
Oh, God, she really had to stop this.
What she had with Sean was just kisses. No matter what her sisters said, she knew he wasn't the sort of man her brother wanted for her. And she wasn't looking for marriage now, anyway. Her art was more important.
"Thank you," she repeated. "I'm finished here and expected home for dinner. I'll be back tomorrow morning."
"At nine?"
"For another kiss, I'll be here at nine."
He laughed. "You aren't anything like I expected a marquess's daughter would be, do you know that?"
"I'm an artist," she said.
And he laughed again. "I'll walk you to the door."
They headed out of the salon. Unusually for this mansion full of servants, the entrance hall was empty. Quincy wasn't there, and there were no footmen, no maids scurrying from one side of the house to the other.
"My sister will be here soon," Sean said quietly. "She's going to live here until this is all over."
"Will she?" Corinna asked, surprised.
"Lincolnshire's insisting upon seeing my wife. And she's Hamilton's actual wife, so…"
"So at least that one thing won't be a lie?"
"Exactly." Reaching the front door, he opened it. "But I'm afraid something will slip now that Deirdre's getting involved."
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"
He shrugged, making it obvious he was.
She clutched his arm. "Please don't reveal the secret. It might be easier, but it won't be best. I don't like keeping secrets either, you know. I feel terribly guilty keeping my brother in the dark."
"Don't tell him," he warned under his breath. "You promised."
"I remember. And that's why I haven't told him until now. But my sisters think we're doing the right thing, and I'm certain he would, too—"
"He wouldn't. He'd expose me forthwith; I'm sure of it."
"You don't know Griffin—"
"He's a marquess, isn't he? That's all I need to know. I'm everything the ton despises." Standing there in the open doorway, he raised a hand and began ticking off all the marks against him. "I'm Irish—"
"I told you, we're part Irish, too."
"What, a quarter?"
"Probably a tenth," she admitted, thinking it was probably even less than that.
He ticked off more fingers. "I'm untitled, I'm in trade, I'm richer than any three members of society combined—"
"Really?" She hadn't known he had that much money. "Where did you get your fortune?"
He looked like he was sorry he'd let that slip. And like he was scrambling to decide what to tell her. But just then the
