drawings he had studied had been in his mistress’s bedchamber? They were drawings of her in poses that were designed to arouse his body more than his artistic appreciation.
Being with someone as young and eager as Miss Brent made him feel jaded beyond redemption.
“I will grant you, Miss Brent,” Lord Jess said, this time minding his manners, “Rembrandt is a wonderful artist. He draws quite beautifully. But what makes him great? Indeed, a ‘great master’?”
“Are you truly interested, my lord? Or are you teasing me?”
“You had best grow used to it, Miss Brent,” Lord Destry said, rising up and down on the balls of his feet. “Most of the time it is impossible to tell. I am not sure he even knows.”
Jess waved away the caveat with a half laugh. “I am truly interested, and wish to hear your explanation.” He expected it would include words more educated than “pretty” and “romantic.”
“I will take you at your word, my lord, and give you an art lesson whether you truly want one or not.” She pointed to the lower left corner of the small drawing. “Tell me what you see there.”
Jess peered closely, looking for a trick, and then shrugged. “I see a walking path defined by plants growing on either side.”
“Yes, that is what it looks like but in fact it is just a series of vertical lines and a darkened swipe of brown wash. Not a trail or plants at all.”
Lord Jess looked again and nodded slowly, impressed when he had been prepared to be sarcastic.
“An economy of style is an important part of Rembrandt’s genius in drawing,” she said, not trying to contain her excitement. “He draws a series of lines, a very few lines, and we see crops ripening in the field.”
Lord Jess stepped back.
“And do you see those four diagonal lines and the small rectangle in the distance?”
“A series of carefully spaced lines that is the veriest hint of a windmill,” Lord Jess said, hoping that she found his awe gratifying.
“Amazing, Miss Brent. Will your lecture be on Rembrandt?” the marquis asked.
“Yes, hopefully not a prosy, boring lecture. I am trying to find a way to make it interesting.”
“Your own enthusiasm will be contagious, I’m sure.” Jess meant that as sincerely as he ever meant anything but he hoped that neither she nor Destry realized it.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Brent.” Mrs. Kendrick arrived breathless. “Finch would not cooperate at all.”
“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Kendrick. I could study Rembrandt’s drawing for hours without boredom. And I had Lord Jess and the marquis for company.” Beatrice’s smile beamed with pleasure and a healthy dose of invitation. The woman was either a natural teacher or had the makings of an outrageous flirt.
Jess and Destry bade good evening to the two ladies and headed back to the game room.
“She certainly is enthusiastic about art,” Jess said as he turned to watch the two ladies progress down the hall. They chatted together, stopping periodically when Beatrice called Mrs. Kendrick’s attention to another work of art.
“Jess, I know that expression. Do not tell me that you are going to seduce her.”
“Never. Nothing has changed.”
“She is not in your usual style.”
“What is my usual style?” It was a warning and he saw that Destry recognized it.
“No insult intended, Jess, but you have always preferred more sophisticated ladies.” Destry stopped short, thunderstruck. “Are you planning a courtship?”
“God, no. Are you mad? Neither one of us planned that meeting. You suggested the route to the game room. We talked to her for less than ten minutes and now you have me walking down the aisle. There is a world of intent between being impressed with her knowledge and a flirtation, much less a courtship.”
“I like her sister,” Destry said, which would have been a non sequitur if Jess was not used to the way Destry’s mind jumped around. “I suppose it cannot hurt if you and Beatrice are on amiable terms, in case the four of us should like to have a picnic together or some such outing.”
“An outing? That would be carrying friendship too far.”
So Destry was planning a courtship. Jess glanced at him again to gauge his sincerity and found his friend watching him as though waiting for a verdict.
No, the new marquis wasn’t joking.
“Stop thinking that I have already failed,” Destry admonished and then clapped Jess on the back. “Now let’s find Belmont and set up play for the evening.”