It was warm and sunny, a perfect summer day, and in the course of their stroll down the several streets that separated their studios, Alex found herself reconciled to the abrupt departure of Lord Ranelagh. He really wasn't her style of man anyway. Harry was right. And she'd definitely violated all her usual principles in allowing herself to be seduced by his charm. Perhaps Harry's appearance had been in the way of fate and she'd been saved from disaster.
A few yards from Harry's, they met Chloe Addison watering her flowers and were cajoled into coming inside to see her newest painting. Shortly after, Walter Newly stopped by and then Peter Randel, at which point Chloe opened a bottle of wine. The discussions on art took on an increasingly heated tone as the bottle emptied and another was opened-not an unusual circumstance in the coterie of young artists who all had distinctly personal views. But their vigorous debates were without rancor, the analyzing and dissecting of the newest movements and personalities in their field undertaken in a spirit of friendship. Alex always enjoyed the camaraderie and as an added benefit, in the company of others she didn't have to concern herself with Harry's possessiveness.
Pandias Ionides could tell his wife was in a pet as she came down the walk from Alexandra's studio. Sitting in their carriage, he sighed, knowing he would have to use his considerable diplomatic skills to assuage her.
"She's not here!" Euterpe exclaimed, waving away the groom who had come forward to help her into the carriage. "I went in through the terrace doors," she continued heatedly, taking her husband's hand as he leaned forward to assist her into the carriage, "which Alex insists on leaving open"-she dropped into the seat opposite her husband with a wrathful snort-"when I've warned her time and time again what might happen to a young woman alone in London!"
Pandias was Greek consul in London and a man of cosmopolitan background, and he was pleased he'd raised a daughter with such modern views, because anyone looking to the future understood the world was rapidly changing. His wife, however, clung to tradition, and his role had always been that of peacemaker between mother and daughter. "I'm sure she just stepped out for a moment," he soothed. "Or perhaps she's at her Melbury Road house."
"Of course she isn't! She hasn't stayed there since John Courts died. And don't take that cajoling tone with me, Pandias. You know very well she's quite likely with that scoundrel Ranelagh, because Tula saw them at Ascot and she saw them leave together! Where did I go wrong?" she wailed, her lament one of long standing in regard to their daughter, who had twice married outside the Greek community. "You know she could marry Constantine Spartalis tomorrow, or Vassilis, who's loved her forever! But no, she insists on living like some bohemian, painting pictures where it's impossible to recognize a tree from a flower-and she never comes home and stays for more than a few hours! You have to find her, Pandias! And warn off that libertine Ranelagh! Why aren't we moving? We have to find her!"
The head of the Ionides family knocked on the carriage roof to order his driver on and then leaned forward and took his wife's hands in his. "I'll make some inquiries," he said softly, stroking the backs of her hands. "I'll find Alex, and I'll see that she comes to our next Sunday open house."
"And I don't want her speaking to that rake Ranelagh again," his wife insisted, leaning back in the seat, her anger beginning to subside now that her husband had agreed to intervene.
"I'll do what I can, dear, but Alex doesn't always listen. And after two husbands, I can't very well tell her how to live."
"You're too lenient, Pandias. She should have been made to marry one of our own. She should have babies now; she's thirty years old. I had all our children by the time I was her age." Her dark eyes took on a melancholy expression. "I just don't want her hurt. You know what Ranelagh's like. The whole world knows."
"I'll talk to her, I promise. But, darling, she's probably out with friends. Just because Tula saw Alex and Ranelagh leave Ascot together doesn't mean they're together now."
"For heaven's sake, Pandias, use your brain," she bristled. "Alex has spent her entire life doing exactly as she pleases-marrying two old men like she did, focusing all her energy on them and now on her painting. It's as though she displeases me on purpose!"
There were great similarities in the untrammeled nature of mother and daughter, but Pandias prudently kept his counsel. "Consider how her charities please you, darling. The schools for Greek immigrant children she finances are favorites of yours."
"Hmpf… at least those old men were good for something."
"Everyone can't marry at twenty like we did."
She sighed. "You were the handsomest man in Athens."
"And you the most beautiful woman. You still are, darling." A tall, slender woman, she bore her age well. "Now, don't you worry."
"Tell me she'll be fine, Pandias." Euterpe Ionides's eyes filled with tears. "She's our baby."
"She's strong like her mother." He patted his wife's hand. "Our baby girl will be just fine."
Chapter Eight
"I didn't dare go inside," Sam said with a smile, rising from the steps fronting Alex's cobalt-blue door. "Although you leave your studio open. Did you satisfy your young swain? You've been gone quite a while."
"I can't see how it's any business of yours." Alex had come to rest a small distance away, not sure she wanted to deal with a man who could make her pulse race on sight, not sure she shouldn't be angry with him for his earlier brusqueness, particularly unsure what he meant by "satisfy."
"I apologize. It isn't my business. I have a peace offering." He slipped a slender leather-bound volume from his jacket pocket and held it out to her. "Ruskin. People either like him or hate him."
"I find him long on theory and short on experience."
Sam slipped the book back into his pocket. "I'll have to think of something else you might like, then." His voice was rich with insinuation.
Taking issue with his cheekiness, she asked crisply, "Why are you here?"
His impudence vanished and it took him a moment to reply. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "Maybe the same reason your cheeks are flushed."
She swept her hands upward and briefly pressed her palms to her cheeks as though gauging her fevered sensibilities.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I intended to be obliging, but you're highly provocative. I don't suppose I could just carry you inside and make love to you and we could decide why we're feeling this way later?"
A carnal flame spiked through her senses, but her voice when she spoke trembled only slightly. "I'm afraid not."
"Are you still angry?"
"Like you, I'm not sure."
"I should have controlled my temper."
"Perhaps I as well."
"I do want to stay."
For how long, she wished to ask even as she understood how completely irrational her response.
"And in order to accomplish that, I'm quite willing to-"
"Perform good deeds for me?"
"Exactly." With difficulty he kept from smiling. "I couldn't have said it better."
There was no point in pretending she didn't want to make love to him. She had from the first moment she'd met him, and if he was willing to show such deference, perhaps it would be counterproductive to be churlish. And it had been a while since Leon. "Do come in, Ranelagh," she said, her mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. "I apologize for my temper as well."
He stepped aside as she approached the entrance, then leaned forward to push the door open once she turned the knob. "I'm pleased you came back," he said.
"I feel the same way-about you." Her brows rose. "Although I'll probably live to regret it…"
"I doubt it."
"The voice of experience?" she observed sardonically.