Hogue cowered at the booming of Bell’s voice, but his demeanor changed when he caught sight of Seraphina. “That’s one of them,” he cried. “That’s one of the ladies responsible for the abduction.”
Sera looked upon him blankly. “Apologies, but I’ve never seen this man before in my life.”
Bell stepped toward her until his barrel chest nearly touched her breasts. She was taller than him, but his aggression belied his stature. Adam stepped closer to her side, just in case she needed someone to lunge for the man’s throat.
“My lord, perhaps I can help,” he said, keeping his tone polite enough, but using his body to communicate that by “help” he meant wallop Bell if he moved any closer to Seraphina.
Bell ignored him, pointing his finger so close to Seraphina’s face she could no doubt smell his breakfast.
“I know you took Elinor. Produce her or I will go inside and drag her out myself.”
Sera stepped back distastefully. “You are welcome to come inside. Though I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re raving about.” She turned around and opened the door to her house. “Tompkins,” she called, “we have an unexpected guest. Our old friend Lord Bell is here. It seems he has misplaced his wife. Do show him around.”
She held open the door and stared down Bell. “Go on. I’ll be right here. Make yourself entirely at home.”
With a string of curses, Bell stormed past her, dragging his man behind him.
Hogue paused and narrowed his eyes at Seraphina. “You are a liar, madam. You most certainly were at my hospital yesterday.”
She smiled at him sadly. “Sir, I believe you are suffering hallucinations. Perhaps you should have your sanity checked.”
His mouth dropped in outrage and he scurried after Bell inside the house.
Sera sat down calmly on a bench, as though nothing in the world was wrong. Not knowing what else to do, Adam sat down beside her.
The sounds of clattering footsteps and colorful invectives streamed from the open windows of the house.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
She leaned back contentedly and gazed at the clouds floating in the sky. “Of course. It’s such a pretty morning. Quite clear for summer.”
He snorted. “Yes, Sera. Beautiful weather we’re having.”
In her position, he would be terrified that Bell might find some trace of his wife’s presence and go straight to the magistrates. But Sera seemed utterly at ease. Almost pleased.
Perhaps this was a trait one needed to become a creature like Seraphina Arden: the ability to feast on threats and turn them into strength.
She peeked at him from the corner of her eye and smirked as more clattering boomed up from the second floor. “Please excuse my guests. So entitled, the nobility.”
“Very rude,” he agreed.
She tapped her fingers on her knee like she was bored. “He’ll likely take his time. What shall we do to amuse ourselves?”
When she looked so playful, with mischief dancing in her eyes, all he wanted was to lean over and kiss her. But he couldn’t do that with Bell about.
So instead, he pulled out the sketchpad and charcoal he always kept in his pocket. “I haven’t had my chance to draw you.”
She arched her neck and stretched to set off her bosom attractively. “Shall I pose for you?”
He laughed. “No, just sit and be yourself.”
He lowered himself onto the grass in front of the bench, facing her, and began to sketch. First the firm lines of her brows and jaw. Then her elegant long neck. Her complicated nose.
Christ, he loved her face.
She became restless with his eyes flickering over her and started playing with her hair.
“Don’t fidget,” he ordered.
She grimaced. “I don’t do well with boredom, Adam.”
“Where the bloody hell is she?” Bell’s voice rang out from above.
“You find this boring?” Adam asked, wincing at the noise.
She rolled her eyes. “He’s the worst kind of bore. I can’t fathom why Elinor married him.”
Adam pretended to consider this. “Oh, I don’t know. I found him rather charming.”
She snorted. “Clearly you have very eccentric taste.” She gestured at herself dramatically. “But then, I suppose we knew that about you.”
He shook his head. “My taste for you should not be classed as an eccentricity, Miss Arden. You are very pleasing to the eye.”
She blushed bright pink. He grinned down at his pad. He had not expected she was the type to swoon at compliments. It made him want to pin her down and tell her in excruciating detail how much he loved her nose, and hips, and height, and wild hair, until she squirmed about in mortification. He chuckled to himself at the notion of it, and she pursed her lips.
“What?”
He grinned. “Just imagining what I am going to do to you later, when Bell isn’t poking about.”
She smiled. “You are quite skillful at that.”
He gave her his most sinful leer. “Just wait.”
She widened her eyes in mock outrage. “I meant at drawing, Mr. Anderson.”
“Pity,” he said, returning to his sketch.
She snorted. “Do you do it often?”
He lifted his eyes to let them laze over her breasts. “Every day, if I can.”
She reached out and tapped his knee with her boot. “You are a pest. I am trying to ask about your art. Do you still paint?”
He dropped his attempts at banter, rather flattered that she wanted to know about him. “Not often. I had to give it up to begin my apprenticeship. It felt . . . like I was deluding myself. But I enjoy sketching.”
Her eyes darkened. “It’s not too late, Adam.”
He was touched and altogether embarrassed by this statement. “Oh, it is. Don’t spare my feelings, I’m quite at peace with my lot.”
He glanced down and added some final bits to the shading around her eyes. “There,” he said. “All done.”
He hoped she liked it. He felt a bit self-conscious, making a show of his artistic skill when she was so often surrounded by real artists.
She scooted down from the bench and reached for the sketch. “Oh, I’m nervous. I hope you haven’t done me as a witch. Let me see.”
Her face went slack when he handed it to her.
Oh dear. She didn’t like it, and she was trying not to be unkind about his skill.
“I’m just an amateur,” he said quickly, blushing. “I hope I didn’t exaggerate my talents.”
“No . . . it’s very skillful, it’s just . . .” She held the sketch up, confused. “You made me beautiful.”
He was surprised by this assertion. He had not meant to flatter her with an especially pretty likeness. He shrugged. “I only drew you as you are.”
A ghost of a smile played on her lips, before she squeezed them together. “Well. I must question the accuracy of your eye. But I am very pleased.”
Her voice on that last word was so soft and flushed with simple happiness that all the restraint flooded out of him. He leaned toward her, and she looked up into his eyes, and he reached out—
“I’m going to have you bloody well arrested as soon as I find her!” Bell shouted, crashing out of the front door. “You, Willow, the whole conspiring lot of you.”