Rodin's Lover: A Novel by Webb Heather

Author:Webb, Heather [Webb, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2015-01-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

“I am being followed.” Camille chose a fig from the picnic basket and sank her teeth into its gritty flesh.

Giganti stretched out on the blanket, tucked his hands under his head, and stared up at the spring sky. “Who would follow you?”

“Monsieur Rodin,” she said without hesitation. She shuddered at the memory of the dark figure in the street, the knife in the clay.

A roar of laughter split the air. “Monsieur Rodin?” He sat up. “Following you? Why would he do that?”

Camille chucked a fig at him. “Is he so above me?”

“I just cannot see him stalking you from the shadows. He doesn’t seem the sort.” Giganti ran a hand through his dark curls and adjusted his posture on the lawn. He looked like a model even when he wasn’t trying, with his squared jaw, pursed lips, and tawny eyes. “Honestly, what would he gain by following you?”

Offended, Camille gathered her things and stuffed them into the basket. “What do you mean? He wants my ideas to claim for himself.”

“Camille.” Giganti took the basket from her hands. “You are a brilliant artist. No one can take that from you. But Rodin is as brilliant as you, so why would he attempt to steal your ideas?”

“I don’t know.”

Camille frowned. She wasn’t sure why she thought Auguste had followed her. She hadn’t seen him, exactly. And his words—he had said many beautiful things to her. Would he lie? Her heart tangled with her reasoning.

“Rodin has feelings for you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” He squeezed her knee. “But for some reason you believe he would steal from you. It simply isn’t his way.”

She brushed a few errant blades of grass from her skirts. “You don’t know for certain how he feels about me, do you?”

“No.”

“Nor do I.”

Giganti laughed.

“But Jessie has plenty of opinions about what I should do.” Camille looked out at the families walking together, enjoying the sunshine and unseasonal warmth.

He clucked his tongue. “And you measure yourself by the young Englishwoman who will be married before she has made a name for herself? Come, darling Camille, that isn’t like you. She’s talented, but you are a poet. A poet with stone, that is.”

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

“That has earned me a kiss? What would your Monsieur Rodin have to say about that?”

She grinned. “He wouldn’t need your services anymore.”

Giganti laughed again.

Camille cocked her head sideways and the sunlight warmed her exposed cheek. “We’ve had an argument, Jessie and me. I don’t know what to say to her. She finds my relations with Auguste appalling. I told her she was jealous of my success.” She looked to him for guidance.

“She likely is, but she will come around. Jessie cares about you. And if she doesn’t, you don’t need her.” He squeezed her gloved hand. “Besides, you have me. I will always be your friend.”

“What would I do without you?”

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