Page 31 of Courting Claudia

He grabbed her arm. “Please don’t.”

“I only stopped to show you that drawing. I need to be on my way.”

“All right, I’ll let you leave, but only if you agree to meet me tonight.” He stood to face her.

She swallowed. “I cannot meet you. Someone might see us.”

“Of course they will! Tonight I’m going to an art showing for a friend.” He retrieved an envelope from his desk.

How humiliating. She prayed the floor would open up and swallow her whole. She’d thought he invited her for a rendezvous, and he was offering her a legitimate invitation. She truly was a harlot.

He handed her the invitation. “You would enjoy it.”

She would enjoy it. But she was so embarrassed right now, she wasn’t certain she could ever face him again. “I don’t know,” she finally said.

“Bring Poppy along. I promise I’ll behave. But there is something there I would like you to see.”

“I’ll talk to Poppy and see what she says.”

“Do you want me to send a carriage after you?”

“No. I can manage on my own, thank you.”

“Then I shall see you tonight.”

“Perhaps.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, all the while his eyes locked on hers. His warm mouth lingered a bit longer than was necessary, and a shiver went through her.

“I look forward to it,” he said and dropped her hand.

Excitement and trepidation swirled through Claudia’s stomach, battling for dominance. She shifted on the carriage seat and fought to keep her hands still.

“Where did you tell your father you were going?” Poppy asked from across the carriage.

“To the Petermans’ soiree.”

“This early?”

“Well, he wasn’t home when I left, so he won’t know I left several hours before the soiree begins. If he asks, I’ll simply tell him I went to your house to get dressed. It’s not as if he’ll speak to your parents to verify my story.”

“True. What kind of art exhibit is this?”

“A private one, by invitation only. I’m not positive what that means, but nonetheless Mr. Middleton secured us an invitation. It’s a private society of painters. I can’t recollect what they call themselves.”

“Sounds mysterious,” Poppy said.

Claudia let her gaze fall to the window. The afternoon sun lingered, giving the street an ethereal glow. The calmness of dusk was in sharp contrast to her nerves. Her mind wandered back to what Derrick had said in his office. Strip her clothes off to show her what he saw? What did that mean?

It was utterly scandalous, that much she knew. No one had ever spoken to her in such a manner, and she knew she should be offended, but she felt nothing but shock laced with curiosity and something she could only label as intense desire. What did he see when he looked at her?

“He’s still courting you,” Poppy said. “I thought you were going to tell him you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not. I did. Well, that is to say, I told him he mustn’t court me.”

“Then why did he invite you to a private art showing?”

“Because I’m an artist and he appreciates that.”