‘Gray, I am surprised to see you.’ Darius entered the Crown’s private parlour on the stroke of eleven and helped himself to hot coffee from the carafe on the sideboard, a convenient excuse for not offering his hand to shake. The shaking of hands implied a bonhomie Darius currently did not feel. Intruders weren’t entitled to manners. ‘My report is not due to the Academy for another two weeks.’
‘I thought I’d come and have a look at your progress first-hand,’ Gray said amiably. ‘I admit to some surprise of my own when you decided to stay the entire six weeks.’ He gave a knowing chuckle. ‘Perhaps Seasalter has hidden charms?’
‘I did not wish to make a hasty generalisation one way or the other on Miss Stansfield’s work,’ Darius replied evenly. ‘As you pointed out in your letter, I have my reputation to consider. Whatever my opinion, I must be able to back it.’ Darius took a chair. ‘What can I do for you so that you may not be inconvenienced by an overlong stay?’
‘Ho, ho, you don’t want to share the bounties of Seasalter. I did wonder what juicy bit you had upstairs with you this morning.’ Gray chuckled.
Darius wanted this man back on the road as soon as possible before he could pick up a whiff of gossip about himself and Artemisia, or before Artemisia felt like giving Gray a piece of her mind. Despite the promises he’d extracted from her, Darius half expected her to come charging down the stairs demanding an explanation. It would be the worst thing she could do and it would confirm the lascivious thoughts running through Gray’s head.
‘I was hoping to get a confirmation that Miss Stansfield’s work was found wanting. I believe that was the job, wasn’t it?’ Gray waved his hand airily. ‘It doesn’t matter if the report isn’t done. Just something to take back to the assembly so we can plan our strategy accordingly. It all must be handled delicately and that takes time.’
Darius crossed a leg over one knee. ‘I promised the assembly objectivity. That’s what I’ll give them. The board should prepare themselves for an excellent report. Her work on her latest collection is outstanding. It has quite impressed me.’
Gray shifted in his seat, growing uncomfortable. ‘You know that is not what we want to hear.’
‘Is the Academy not interested in the truth?’ Darius pressed.
‘I hardly think truth is the opinion of one man.’ Gray levelled a strong gaze at him. ‘I believe the letter makes that clear.’
‘You mean the blackmail threat,’ Darius said bluntly. ‘If I don’t do as the Academy wishes, it will seek to ruin me. Yes, the letter made that very clear, right at the bottom in closing. A less discerning mind might have missed it. This isn’t about the quality of her work, but the quality of her gender.’ That he so calmly voiced the accusation out loud was a sign of how much the last months had changed him. That he inwardly believed it was another.
‘That can be no surprise. You’re a smart man and you were there for our discussion.’
‘But I didn’t agree to it. I promised you objectivity. The Academy is a group of men who are intimidated by a woman who can out-paint them.’ This was about repression wielded as a tool of the cowardly. But today was the first time he realised how intensely he wanted no part of it, could have no part of it, and still hold himself accountable to his code of honour. The world started to tilt on its axis once more. It was beginning to dawn on him in full what such a fight would entail.
Gray leaned back in his chair and studied him with a sharp eye. ‘I see she has bewitched you. I am sure you are not the first man to fall for her bold charms. I feared this might happen. Be careful that you’ve not been impressed with her art as much as you’ve been impressed with her.’ It was not unlike the argument of old, the argument of the unenlightened that suggested there could be no reliable witnesses to witchcraft since the only witnesses were the witch herself and the one bewitched. How convenient. How unfair. How naive that he’d once thought the modern world had come further than that.
Darius tensed, his thoughts and emotions raw with new discovery and passion. ‘You should be careful that I do not call you out for slander, Gray. That is a woman’s reputation as well as my own that you are questioning.’
Gray shrugged. ‘Take my advice, St Helier, look to your own reputation first. It’s worth protecting. Hers is not.’ He stood and looked about, waiting for an invitation, oblivious to the insult he’d dealt. ‘Perhaps we might pay her a visit? I wouldn’t want to go without seeing her. I’ll stay the night here. Be a good chap and arrange a dinner tonight.’
Darius rose. ‘I wish I could, but she’s gone on a sketching tour. Not sure when she’ll be back. I’ll be using the time to write my report. I’m not even sure I’ll see her before returning to London.’ He was not in the habit of lying and doing so now was risky. He hoped Artemisia didn’t prove him false with a sudden appearance.
‘Perhaps a look at her work, then?’ Gray persisted.
‘I could not arrange that.’ Darius was quick to quash the idea. It was a violation of Artemisia’s privacy, she would never consent to showing her work before it was ready. More than that, it was a trap for him. It assumed he had a certain intimate access to Artemisia, that he was no longer at best a neutral annoyance to her or at worst, an enemy. ‘It’s good to see a familiar face, but I fear you’ve made the trip for nothing.’ A trip he must have started well before dawn to have made Seasalter before noon. Had Gray deliberately wanted to catch him abed?
Gray gave him a critical appraisal. ‘Not nothing. I hope you know what you’re doing, St Helier. If you choose to wage war on the Academy, you will lose.’
‘I hardly think one person’s opinion is a war.’ Darius held the parlour door open. ‘Funny you think so.’ Maybe the Academy was more afraid than they let on. ‘Best not to decide anything until the report is turned in, though,’ he cautioned. ‘I wouldn’t like to think of you bringing back information to London only to have my report contradict it.’ Sowing uncertainty would buy him time. The last thing he wanted was gossipy Aldred Gray spouting his speculations to anyone who would listen. But Gray had given him an idea.
Darius ushered Gray out to the man’s carriage and saw him inside before it registered with Gray that he’d driven all this way for a half-hour meeting and was now on his way home. After seeing Gray off, Darius returned to the private parlour to unravel the events of the morning. If the assembly was expecting a war, he’d give them one. If the Academy saw his report as a cannon primed to blow a hole through their fortress, perhaps he should use it as such.
Darius sipped his coffee, ideas forming. He would write to Basil Vellanoweth, the Duke of Boscastle, and his son, Inigo. Both were patrons of the arts. Inigo was a master at arranging ‘things’, whatever a fellow might need. He’d write to Lady Basingstoke as well, see if she might lend her person when she came to town for the Season. He would have to catch her between races. She would split her time between Newmarket and Ascot. Of course, his efforts would mean naught without Artemisia’s cooperation.
He should speak to her immediately. His plans and her notorious impatience demanded it. She would be pacing upstairs. He could not bring himself to go up yet. He lingered over another cup of coffee, savouring the fire in the hearth, the patter of rain on the windows. The winter greyness of Seasalter seemed nostalgic in the wake of Gray’s visit. He was going to miss this battered inn with its excellent wine that far outstripped the mediocre food and marshy beaches.
Darius blew out a breath, finally letting his mind acknowledge what Gray’s visit had also meant. He didn’t have two weeks left with Artemisia, not the way he’d planned. He needed to be back in London as soon as possible. The idyll in Seasalter was over. He pushed out of his chair and headed upstairs. He could not stop this from ending. All he could control was how it ended. His hand lingered on the door handle. Once he stepped inside the room everything would change. He only hoped Artemisia would see reason.
* * *
; Artemisia stepped back from the window the moment the door handle rattled. Darius was back. Finally. She’d seen Gray drive away, seen Darius return inside. She’d waited. And waited. She crossed her arms and faced the door. ‘About time. I thought you might have left and gone with him.’ It might have been better if he had, at least then things would have ended in a way she understood. Darius would have saved himself. She expected that. It was what men did.
Darius shut the door behind him. ‘I needed time to think.’ The quietness of his tone was telling. The more serious he was, the quieter he got. This must be serious indeed. Even braced for it, even knowing it had to be this way, his next words were still a blow. ‘I need to leave for London as soon as possible.’
He was going to leave. She put on a brave face, trying to ignore the hurt that rocketed her through her and the surprise. Why surprise? This should not surprise her. She’d known from the start that he would go. She wanted him to go. She’d practically told him as much when he’d shared the letter. Darius couldn’t ignore the threat the Academy had put to him for ever, although they’d done a fairly good imitation of it these past weeks. Seeing Aldred Gray in the flesh had no doubt made that threat very real.
She glanced at the bed, still rumpled from last night. It had been nice while it lasted. She only regretted the final two weeks had been stolen from them. ‘So this is how it ends. Suddenly, swiftly.’ This was like an executioner’s blade, certain, sure, final and just as inevitable. They’d known from the start, from that night at Gann’s party, this was only temporary. It had given them permission to set aside certain decisions and positions. Now those burdens and realities had to be resumed.
‘Will you go today?’ she asked with a calmness that belied her inner turmoil. She was hating herself. She’d made promises to herself she would not be hurt when this happened, but somewhere, somehow, those promises had become broken things.
‘No, not for a couple of days. We need to make plans. I have an idea, but I need your consent.’ He paused, his gaze resting on her face, confused and then clearing. Suddenly he was in motion, crossing the room, rounding the bed, taking her hands. ‘Artemisia, this is not the end of us. Did you think I was leaving you? You did, didn’t you?’ He led her to the edge of the bed and made her sit while he dragged over the room’s single chair. He sat before her, her hands in his. ‘The Academy has tried to wrong us both. I say we fight back and declare war.’
Artemisia gave him an incredulous stare, emotions rioting. This wasn’t just about desire any more. The one rule that had given her licence for tasting forbidden fruit dangled before her, daring her to break it. If she took his offer to join forces, that’s what she’d be doing. They would be twined together in more significant ways. The old thought returned: they would ruin one another unless she put a stop to this now. ‘We can’t win. The two of us against the Academy and years of tradition? Darius, we’d be made a laughing stock.’
She knew what happened to rule-breakers. They were labelled as eccentric, their credibility questioned at every turn because they didn’t follow the crowd, allowed to fade into the shadows if they were lucky. Not everyone was that lucky.
He sat forward on the edge of the chair. ‘It wouldn’t just be the two of us, Artemisia. I have friends who would help, friends that others would follow. I will engage their services, and you should write to your friends. Lady Basingstoke, for instance.’
‘What could she do? She’s a horse enthusiast, not an art patron,’ Artemisia argued. Her list of useful contacts would disappoint Darius if he meant to rally the troops.
‘She’s the subject of your prize-winning portrait. She could come to the exhibition. If she came, perhaps she could talk her in-laws and her rather large family into lending their consequence.’
‘What exhibition?’ Darius’s enthusiasm was contagious. She found herself getting caught up in the theoretical possibilities he proposed.
‘Your exhibition. The Academy won’t have you—fine. We’ll show them we don’t need them. We’ll stage your work at a smaller but elegant venue on the Strand. We’ll open a few days before the Academy’s spring art show, give people time to spread word of mouth about it and, with luck, we’ll upstage the Academy.’ Darius grinned. ‘They’re afraid of us, Artemisia. I saw it in Gray’s face today. Threats are all they have. So, we call their bluff.’
Artemisia disengaged her hands and rose from the bed to pace. She needed space in which to digest this fantastical scheme. He was talking sheer craziness. ‘What if we lose? You’re asking a lot of people to put themselves out for us.’
‘Then we lose. We were going to lose already by doing nothing,’ Darius reasoned. ‘But we won’t lose, Artemisia. My friends are powerful and your art is good.’ He paused. ‘The reason you are being censored, denied a voice, is not just.’
His praise brought a soft smile to her face, and her heart warmed despite the objections of her mind. Even in the face of adversity, Darius believed in the power of right. It was not naivety that drove his belief, but his belief in himself. He could make things right by the sheer dint of his will. ‘As lovely as it sounds, Darius, I can’t ask you to risk all that for me.’
She ached to go to him, but she didn’t dare touch him or she would lose her own sense of rightness. This was her fight, alone. He made it too easy to believe otherwise, a sure sign of the feelings he raised in her. Dangerous feelings. Dangerous beliefs. Such beliefs had betrayed her before. ‘I stand by what I told you in the beginning. Turn in your report the way they want it and let me go.’ It was best for his reputation and best for her own soundness. This way, she could not be disappointed in him or in herself.
He speared her with a look, his brow furrowed. ‘That sounds very much like giving up to me. I didn’t think you were a coward.’
‘I’m not giving up. A good general knows when to retreat the field, when to save lives instead of pressing on foolishly, and that’s what this is, Darius. You are pressing on foolishly for the sake of principle.’ She shook her head, stalling further protest. ‘I’m not giving up. I’m saving you. You can’t save me, but you can save yourself. Even if we were to win, it would only be one battle in a larger war.’
Always. There would never be a clear finish line to cross. That line would keep moving as long as men were afraid. She had to make him understand. ‘It wouldn’t only be about art, Darius. When they can’t win there, they will make it personal.’ His friends couldn’t protect her from her own follies.
‘Heaven forbid they find Hunter McCullough somewhere.’ Or her other two lovers. They’d been rather practical men in the end and had left when she didn’t give them what they wanted, which hadn’t been her. They’d made it clear they’d do anything to advance their careers. Through them, the Academy would paint her with a whore’s brush.
‘They wouldn’t dare breathe such scandal about a viscount’s wife.’
The words left her breathless. Stunned. He couldn’t mean it. That would engender a whole other fight. They would have a two-fronted battle on their hands. ‘Is that a proposal?’ If so, it was the icing on a mad cake.
‘It’s part of the plan. You’re right. If we remain as we are now, people will speculate we are lovers and they won’t be wrong. But marriage would change that. Marriage would give you the protection of my name, my house,’ Darius argued. ‘Marriage to me will give you everything you’ve ever wanted.’
‘Not on my terms, but yours. It undermines everything I’ve worked for. It proves the Academy right, that a woman can achieve nothing on her own. People will say it was marriage that made my acceptance, my art, possible, that I am tolerated because I am Viscountess St Helier.’ Could he see that?
Darius nodded in contemplation. ‘What if marriage was aside from all that? What if it was simply because I love you and it just happened to further the plan?’ He was crushing her resistance, spinning a fairy tale. Fairy tales were fictions. She n
eeded to remember that.
‘No one would ever believe it. No one would separate the reasons. If I wasn’t a whore, I’d be an opportunist. Aside from that, your family would never countenance the match and society would follow.’
Darius rose and went to her, an edge of anger in his movements. ‘I’d prefer you not talk about yourself in those terms,’ he growled. ‘I mean this proposal, Artemisia. Even if Aldred Gray hadn’t shown up today, I would want this. Marry me. I don’t want us to end. Whatever happens with your art, I want us.’ He was intoxicating and persuasive up close. She could smell the clean linen and spice of him, see the intensity of want in his dark eyes, feel it in his touch. And her body believed it. It was thrumming with the possibility of what he offered.
‘Darius, it’s impossible. I will ruin you. You would hate me in time, a shorter time than you think. It’s not really love that drives you, Darius, it’s responsibility, it’s your innate desire to take care of those around you.’ She tried to reason with him, with herself. It would be too easy to believe him, to take everything he offered, to lay down the fight or at least share it. To accept would be to change herself. She wasn’t sure she wanted to change. She wanted to remain intact, yet Darius had already changed her, softened her, made her believe in things long dead, that her independence wasn’t contingent on living alone, that she was worth loving just as she was.
‘Say yes to the exhibition, Artemisia. Let me prove to you what is possible.’ He had her in his arms now, she could feel the strength of him flowing about her, her resistance overcome by his resolve. ‘Give me a week’s head start, then pack up your paintings and come to London. I will give you a triumphal entry and together we will give the Academy hell.’
Artemisia sighed and looked up into his face. ‘I like the sound of that.’ Why not? She couldn’t fight both Darius and the Academy simultaneously. She would take it one thing at a time, starting with the Academy first.
Portrait of a Forbidden Love--A Sexy Regency Romance Page 15