Lily and the Duke by Helen Hardt Read Free Book Online

finished putting everything in order. I cannot wait to see the Vermeer.” Lily put both paintings away.
    “Please, allow me.” Daniel took her supply case but set it on the bench. He moistened his thumb in his mouth and rubbed it across Lily’s jawline. Her skin was warm and oh so soft.
    “Your Grace?”
    “You have the most adorable smudge of blue paint on your lovely face.”
    There went the rosy flush again. “If it’s so adorable, why are you removing it?”
    Daniel warmed and gave a half smile. “Are you flirting with me, my lady?”
    “Your Grace, of course not.”
    “Folly. I was hoping you were.” Daniel lifted her supply case and led her out of the alcove toward the main house. “You know, I don’t usually escort a lovely lady to my chamber during midmorning. What will the servants think?”
    Lily cleared her throat. “I would appreciate discretion, Your Grace.”
    “Of course, I was only teasing. No one will know that you’ve been to my chamber. I promise you.”
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    W hen they reached the house , Daniel handed Lily’s supplies to a servant with orders to deliver them to her chamber and then led her through the dining hall and kitchen where cooks were busy preparing the luncheon. She felt extremely conspicuous, but no one seemed to notice them. He led her up a back stairway to his suite on the third floor.
    They entered a large sitting room decorated in an eastern style. A large sofa covered in a fiery red brocade graced one wall. An intricate Oriental rug covered the floor and was so plush that Lily’s shoes sank down at least an inch as she stood on it. Two leather armchairs surrounded a mahogany reading table, and two tall elegant barristers’ bookcases lined one wall, housing gilt edged leather bound volumes. Oriental prints adorned the walls, framed beautifully in black lacquered wood. Lily stopped, her feet sinking into the soft fibers beneath her, and looked around the room, taking it all in. Daniel nudged her forward to a door on the far wall, and she entered his bedchamber.
    His four poster bed was solid cherry draped in burgundy silk. An elegant sitting window housed a chaise longue and settee, both covered in a burgundy brocade. A small table sat between the two seats. On it were several crystal bottles filled with a dark liquid. Probably brandy, Lily thought. A lush leather armchair sat opposite the bed, next to a door that undoubtedly led to a lavatory with modern plumbing. For some strange reason, Lily was curious to see the duke’s bath chamber. She must have been staring, for he came up behind her, lightly touched his hands to her waist, and slowly turned her to the left.
    “This,” he whispered into her ear, “is, I believe, what you wanted to see.”
    Lily gasped. The gilt-framed painting graced the wall, positioned so that it was visible from the bed. The picture was of a maiden, gowned in vivid crimson, holding a crucifix and cleaning blood from a dead man behind her. Her expression was one of serene contemplation, despite the vile task she undertook. Lily moved closer to the painting, reaching toward it.
    “Don’t worry,” she told Daniel. “I won’t touch it. I know better. I just want to… God, it’s wonderful. I want to look closely at his strokes.”
    “I know what you mean. It’s almost a psychic touch, isn’t it? You can feel the texture in your mind if you put your fingers close to it.”
    “Yes, exactly!” He understood. The duke actually understood how she felt. Lily gazed, drinking it in. “Who is it, do you suppose?”
    “St. Praxedis. It’s one of Vermeer’s earlier works. There are some skeptics who don’t think it can be attributed to him, but there has never been any doubt in my mind.”
    “St. Praxedis…from the early Catholic Church?”
    “Yes, she was elevated to sainthood for her services to the dead bodies of the martyrs. Do you see how she’s holding the crucifix as she cleans the blood from the body? That symbolizes the