the others hidden from view. No doubt waiting for a more private showing, Lucy thought grimly. She still wondered about the sketches of Bessie.
Master Hargrave was smiling proudly at the sketches of his wife. “Your jewels do you great credit, my dear, but by God, I have a lovely wife.” He kissed her hand.
* * *
Later, as Lucy returned the clean dishes to the dining room cabinet, Master Del Gado entered the room. He moved toward her rapidly, backing her against the table. Her heart constricted, making her feel caged. Leaning into her, he whispered in her ear. “Do not be afraid, my lovely one. You are afraid I will brand you a thief and have you thrown from the house, are you not?”
She nodded, too afraid to speak.
Del Gado continued. “Rest assured. I shall not do so. You were just curious, were you not? And why not? I am curious myself. That is why I sketch. I am curious about life, about love, about women. I shan’t tell anyone that you looked through my things, for indeed I should not like the content of some of those sketches known. Especially, your master might not like it.” He took her hands, caressing them gently. “My dear, there are many things that I should like to do to you, and painting you in your burnishing youth is just one of them. However, if you ever look through my belongings again, or speak of what you saw to anyone”—abruptly his fingers squeezed her hand—“I will not be so nice. Do you understand?”
Lucy nodded mutely, tasting the tears in her throat. She wanted to slap him but was afraid, since he was a guest.
Perhaps sensing her thoughts, he kissed her mouth lightly and stepped away, smiling, the flash of anger gone as quick as it had come. “Consider my offer. There is much I can provide you, and I know girls like their trifles. Until, my dear, we meet again.”
* * *
Although it was nearly midnight, Lucy still had not gone to bed. Like most servants, she usually stayed up until the master and mistress had retired. She moved slowly about the house, blowing out candles and banking the coals in the hearths, readying the house for the morning. In the kitchen, she washed the cup and plate Lucas had used when he finally descended from his chamber, looking a little worse for wear. Lucy could not help teasing him about his absence at supper.
“Didn’t want to see Del Gado,” Lucas had confided. “He’s a cad, and a fraud at that. Posing as one of Van Dyck’s students, while he’s probably from the gutters of Seville. Don’t know why our good mistress is so taken with him!” Changing his tone he had added, “Get me a bite, would you, Lucy dear? I’m famished.”
Knowing that Lucas shared her poor opinion of the painter comforted her somewhat. Like the still-warm embers, her cheeks burned painfully whenever she thought about the painter. Lucy tried not to think of the mistress’s own pictures, or of the master, who might feel chagrined to find he had such a wayward wife. Or perhaps he knew? She put that thought from her mind. It wasn’t her place to question the doings of the master and mistress.
Mounting the stairs a short while later, Lucy decided to wake Bessie and ask her outright what in heaven’s name had possessed her to pose for Del Gado. The question died on her lips, though, when she found the tiny chamber she shared with Bessie to be completely silent.
Puzzled, Lucy crept back down to the mistress’s chamber and put her ear to the door. She heard the master say something in a low voice to the mistress, and the mistress laugh in response. Clearly, Bessie was not in there.
Making a face, she continued down the hall, putting her ear first to Lucas’s door and then to Adam’s. Surely, Bessie would not be the first comely maidservant to be led astray, but the thought made her sick. She was relieved, though, not to hear any movement behind either door.
Slipping back down the stairs, Lucy quickly looked in every room. She heard Cook and John snoring in their small room behind the kitchen. Peering out the kitchen shutters assured her that Bessie was not out in the courtyard. Bessie had been known to cull morning’s first dew from the leaves in the garden, rubbing it on her face, thinking it gave her skin a lustrous sheen. A