Page 30 of Courting Claudia

“Thank you.”

“I’m hoping to incorporate color into the paper soon. I believe your illustrations would be a perfect place to start.”

“Color? Oh, that would be marvelous. Of course, then I’d have to make detailed notes to ensure the right color was used. But wouldn’t it be splendid?”

He started to hand the drawing back to her, then stopped and fiddled with the edge of the paper. It separated, revealing another sheet beneath. He peeled the top drawing off and placed it on his desktop.

Heavens no! The drawing she’d made of them dancing. How could she have been so foolish? The pages must have gotten stuck together. It had happened a few times before with this particular parchment, and she’d neglected to check. It had never been a problem before, as she’d never shared her initial drawings with anyone. She reached for the illustration, but he pulled it away.

“I want to look at this.”

She should have burned it. “But that’s not an illustration I’m submitting. That was a mistake,” she added quietly.

He looked at her, raised his eyebrow, then looked back at the picture. “Yes, it was a mistake.”

Now he would know she was an utter fool. Fantasizing about him when she ought to be thinking about Richard.

“This is not your best work,” he said.

His words pinched. “I realize that. I didn’t intend to draw you, but it just happened, and the likeness is sadly lacking. I think it’s the eyes, but I’ve never been quite sure.”

“It’s not my image that’s lacking.” He frowned. “It’s yours. This is you, isn’t it?” He pointed at the lady in the picture.

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t look anything like you. It’s like a caricature. A badly done cartoon from The Strand.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t look like me? It looks exactly like me. See, that’s my dress.” She tapped on the page.

“That might be your dress, but this is not you. Look at the features. The only thing you got right was the hair, and even then the texture looks off.”

Texture. What was he talking about? Her hair was curly. Too curly. That was the texture. And the features—she’d gotten them perfect. Right down to the extra flesh that hinted at a second chin. She looked back at him and still he stared at the drawing, his brow furrowed.

“You weren’t supposed to ever see this drawing.” She tugged on the edge, but he wouldn’t release it. “No one was,” she added softly.

Derrick shook his head. “If I could draw, I would show where you went wrong. Sorry to say that my illustrating skills are sadly lacking.”

“Hand it back to me, and we’ll forget about it.” She certainly didn’t want this to affect his opinion of her talent. “Not all of my illustrations are perfect, that’s why I draw more than one before I turn them in. This one was for me, merely a sketch. No one was supposed to see it. Least of all you.”

“Claudia, it’s not the quality I object to. Look at this. Look at your face. Do you see the difference in the way you drew yourself and the way you drew me? Or how about this?” He grabbed the other drawing from his desk, “The twins. Those girls are not what you would deem beautiful, yet you highlighted their best features in this illustration.”

She glanced at the drawing of the twins. He was right, they were not particularly handsome women, but she had taken careful consideration to not draw attention to their overly large noses or poor complexions. She looked over at the image of herself. It might not look exactly like her, but it was close.

“It’s not mine but rather your eyes that are lacking in this image. They have none of your sparkle and inquisitiveness.” He brushed his hand down the side of her cheek. “It’s difficult to capture the glow in your cheeks without color, I realize, but you could have hinted with some shading.”

Her cheeks were red all the time, as if she were an actress who had gone too far with the rouge. She found them to be yet one more thing to hate about herself. Yet he thought it was a glow.

“Had I drawn this, I would have focused on the subtle arch of your eyebrows.” He moved his thumb across her right eyebrow. “And that mouth of yours. The perfect and intoxicating mouth.” One finger feathered a touch across her lips, and she clenched her jaw to keep herself from giving in to the urge to nip them.

His finger trailed from her lips, down her jaw, across her collarbone to the top of her dress. “Where is your tempting cleavage?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“In the picture. Where is your tempting cleavage? Or your waist, for that matter?” He met her gaze, but didn’t wait for a reply before he continued. “’Tis a shame, the way you see yourself, Claudia.” He leaned in so that they were merely a breath away. “I have a mind to strip away those clothes of yours, stand you in front of a mirror, and show you what I see.”

Chills scattered over every inch of her body. Her heart beat so rapidly, she was certain it would jump right out of her chest. She brought her hand up to hold it in if necessary.

She needed to leave. This conversation had become highly indecorous. She stood. “I should leave.”