A Perfect Scandal. Tina Gabrielle
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than a hard ride in the park or the country.”
She cocked her head to the side, accentuating the long line of her slender throat. “Yes, I can picture you riding fast.”
He swallowed at her words, certain she had no idea the erotic picture they evoked in his mind. “Would you like a glass of champagne?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Yes, Mr. Hawksley.” She turned away with him, leaving her father and Blake conversing behind.
“It’s Marcus, remember?”
“Not here. We don’t want to be overheard,” she whispered.
“For a woman who desperately sought to ruin her reputation, I find it surprising that you care if others overhear our familiarity.”
She lowered thick black lashes. “Things have changed. We must act the part of a proper couple.”
Ah, he thought. He didn’t miss her words “act the part.” He kept having to remind himself she wanted nothing to do with him as a flesh-and-blood man, just as a facade to dupe society.
The refreshment table was at the far end of the ballroom. As they walked past, couples watched them, some whispering behind their fans. No doubt, gossip about what had occurred at the Westley mansion was the topic as well as word of their impending engagement. Marcus ignored them, his gaze staying on Isabel’s delicate profile. She had a natural grace about her, but he sensed that beneath the surface simmered her true volatile nature.
They reached the table, and Marcus tore his eyes from her face. He looked up and froze.
Splotches of brilliant color, lines, and forms covered the walls. Row after row of awe-inspiring paintings hung in splendid display. He spotted works by British portrait painters Sir Joshua Reynolds and John Hoppner. There were paintings by sporting artists James Ward and George Stubbs. Even Dutch and Flemish masterpieces were in the collection as well as quality watercolors of famous landscapes. When he had first entered the ballroom, he had not been able to see the far wall, and thus had missed the most impressive part of the room.
Good Lord, the artwork did not fit the distasteful Chinese décor, and Marcus guessed that was why Leticia and Harold Benning had hung them in the far end of the ballroom. Still, the works were stunning, and Marcus’s mind reeled at the sight.
Isabel must have noticed his fascination. “I see you admire Mr. Benning’s collection.”
His gaze remained riveted to the wall. “I would not peg him the art lover.”
“That’s because he’s not. Charlotte told me he buys art only to enhance his status as a premier host. That is the extent of his interest. That’s why the paintings are displayed in the ballroom and not in his study or bedroom for private enjoyment. He wants others to envy his possessions.”
“How wasteful. They should be prized and shared with others in a museum, not a stuffy ballroom.”
She arched a brow. “Don’t you acquire art and keep it squirreled away for your pleasure?”
He turned away from the wall. “Yes and no. I frequently loan my treasures to the museums. I find just as much fulfillment in sharing what I have obtained with those that otherwise would never have an opportunity to view a true masterpiece.”
Clear blue eyes studied him. “You surprise me, Mr. Hawksley. As an artist myself, I spend quite a lot of my time frequenting the museums. I suppose I owe my enjoyment to generous collectors such as you.”
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