“She’s rather… eccentric.”
“Mad, you mean?” Clive’s eyes swept the yard and landed on Alice. “I don’t like her.”
“Because of who her father is?” Irene whispered.
Clive looked at her. “You and she are very different.”
“Are we?” she asked. “We came from men cut from the same cloth, Clive. I think you should give her a chance.”
“And I think you should give more people fewer chances,” he countered.
She stilled her breath and she thought about how right he was. She was forever blind to the truth about people. “Her manner leaves much to be wanted, but she’s not a lady. She wouldn’t have had the same schooling as someone who would be expected to meet the queen.”
“That is true,” Clive agreed.
Irene turned her body toward her husband. “Has she done something to cause you to worry?”
He turned to her in kind. “Not yet, but I sense disingenuity within her.”
Garrick stepped out and Clive bent to her ear. “I’ll speak to you later.” Then he pulled away and left, the men seeming to trade off rather easily.
Irene watched Clive disappear and then noticed Garrick started for his wife in the distance. It was then she understood why Clive had been so close to the group all afternoon. They were being watched. Or rather, Alice was being watched.
Irene caught Alice looking at her. Alice waved enthusiastically and Irene responded more subdued.
Irene still didn’t understand why the woman was there at all. No one had explained anything to the wives, but Selena had accepted her presence all the same.
“Why do you think she’s here?” Lucy’s sudden appearance next to Irene was welcoming. She was staring at Alice.
“I don’t know.”
Lucy worried her lip. “I tried to look for Kent but couldn’t find him. He’s so troubled by all of this.”
Irene instinctively grabbed Lucy’s hand. “So is Clive, but I’ve a feeling we’ll all get through this together.”
Lucy hugged her hand back and smiled. “I’m so glad you are with us, Irene. Your vibrance is the perfect addition to our circle.”
Irene blushed and lowered her gaze. “Thank you, Lucy.” for some reason, Irene found it easier to accept Lucy’s comment than all the many Cecilia had given her over the years. Could it be because Cecilia had been taunting her with her husband’s words? She still couldn’t understand how Harry had thought to compare the two women. Cecilia was a goddess. Next to her, Irene always disappeared unless she was speaking. People would overlook her until they couldn’t.
Clive came to mind. Strangely, instead of a more recent memory, she was reminded of their moment a few weeks ago when he’d come to the small terrace apartment she’d bought and the way he’d allowed her to kiss him.
She’d felt vibrant that night. She’d felt beautiful.
“Thinking about Clive, are you?” Lucy asked as she started them down the path that would lead to the lake where the others stood.
Irene smiled at Lucy. “Honestly, I likely spend half the day thinking about him and only half because the other half he’s usually near. I thought one of us would suffocate the other by now, but I like having him close. I like being close to him.” She hoped that once Crow was caught and Clive no longer needed to protect her, they would remain this way.
Lucy giggled. “Kent and I were much the same way. We still are on occasion.”
“Were you?” Irene sighed. “That makes me feel better.”
“Clive told me that all your paintings were destroyed in the fire,” Lucy said. “He wants me to paint you.”
Irene was stunned. She’d seen Lucy’s work. A few paintings hung in Marley’s home. “He does?”
Lucy nodded. “He’s requested a portrait be done of you.”
“Do you want to paint me?”
“Oh, yes!” Lucy exclaimed. “Though honestly, I’ll do anything that will stop me from thinking about the fact that we are all trapped here.”
Irene understood. They were not allowed to go to Hyde Park or the shops. All the women and children were to remain on Marley’s property. “Then if you’re willing, I accept.”
“Shall we start tomorrow?”
Irene smiled. “Yes. Thank you.” Irene had hated the artists who had come to paint her in the past. She’d been all but bullied into doing it by her father. He’d thought it would be good for her chances at getting married.
Knowing Clive wished to have her painted for himself was different. She didn’t know why, but it was.
∫ ∫ ∫
5 2
* * *
Irene was reminded of just how much she hated sitting for a portrait only half an hour into it. Lucy had set up a studio in the drawing room on the northernmost part of the property. It had great light and was far from the noise of the rest of the house. Children would not wander to this part of the house. For the most part, Lucy was very good at keeping a conversation going, but Irene was restless. She’d woken without Clive in bed, which had upset her. Then she’d grown upset at being upset. One would think that thirty years of waking up alone would have prepared her, but Clive had spoiled her. She’d missed the heat of his body. The soft feel of his hair and the skin that covered strong muscles.
He was on watch. She’d known it to be so the moment she’d felt the coolness of his side of the bed. It had been confirmed at breakfast. Marley hadn’t been there either, but Garrick had. She’d noticed that Marley had changed places with Garrick last evening, which told her the men were on a rotation of sorts.
Irene sighed aloud.
Lucy spoke from behind her canvas. “Kim is supposed to come and read during the next half hour and then we are done for the day.” And Irene would have to pose again in two. Lucy’s oils would need that amount of time to dry.
As if on cue, Irene heard the door behind her open.
Kim.
She smiled. “Thank you for coming to read. I’m sure there are a hundred things you’d rather be doing.”
Kim didn’t respond.
The steps that filled the silence were strong but quiet, as though someone were taking care to not disturb her.
The air suddenly felt different, and Irene swallowed as a shadow graced the floor. Then Clive was there, grinning. His eyes swept her, first down and then up to where her bird pin sat. Then he looked into her eyes and that rare feeling of beauty filled her.
Clive reached out.
“Don’t,” Lucy said. “Don’t touch a thing on her.”
Irene sighed again.
Clive chuckled. His blue gaze was gentle. “I’ve come to read to you.”
“Where were you this morning?” Irene whispered.
“I was around.” Clive leaned close to her and whispered, “Though I’d have preferred remaining in bed with you.”
Irene smiled her first real smile that morning.
“You’re in my light, Clive,” Lucy called. “Go sit somewhere far away from your wife.” There was humor in her tone.
Clive disappeared behind her. Irene gasped at the feel of his mouth on the back of her neck.
“Clive!” Lucy called.
His laugh was a brush against her skin before he moved away.
“You’ve changed her coloring completely,” Lucy called.
Irene felt herself flush harder.
Irene heard the dragging of furniture before Clive spoke. “Paint her that color. I like it when she blushes.”
“But in order to get the color correctly, you’d need to flirt with her at every session.” Lucy peeked at them with a devious gleam in her eyes.
Irene panicked at the thought. She did not want Clive flirting with her in front of others. “That’s not necessary,” she said, yet at the same time Clive said, “I believe I could manage that.”
Irene closed her eyes and groaned, yet still she couldn’t help but be glad for Clive’s presence. Suddenly, portrait sitting wasn’t so bad.
∫
∫ ∫
5 3
* * *
Irene was surprised when Alice came into the studio four days later.
“Oh.” Alice looked around the room. Her gray eyes were as large as her smile. “It’s a lovely room. Perfect for a portrait. I had my own done once. It was for my father. It hangs on a wall in his office. I was five at the time.” She walked to the center of the room. Her footsteps were loud. “I could hardly stay still, but I’m sure you do a better job at it than me. Your face has been on many a canvas in the past, has it not?” She came to stand by Irene.
They were alone in the room. Clive had been called away and Lucy had just left. Irene had wanted to see the canvas. She’d never been painted by a woman before. All the other artists had either come from the Academy or from abroad and had been known for their work.
After three sessions, there wasn’t much to see, but even Irene could tell Lucy had a fine hand. She was sure that in the end, it would be beautiful.
Irene smiled. “I suppose I am used to posing for portraits, but I’m afraid I don’t much care for it.”
Alice moved to look at the canvas. She and sighed. “I bet it will be a fine painting once it is complete. I should have Lucy make me one for my thirtieth birthday next week.”
“You’ll be thirty next week?” Irene’s eyes rounded. “You don’t look a day over twenty.”
Alice laughed hysterically. “Irene, you are very sweet to me. I adore you.”
Irene smiled and looked away. “Thank you, Alice.” She was beginning to get used to the woman’s odd behavior. After all, how often had Irene been called odd herself?
“Oh, and I see you’re wearing the infamous hairpin.” Alice reached up and Irene could feel her fingers on it. It rocked as Alice pulled her hand away. She stared at it with wonder. “The Eclectus Parrot. Wouldn’t it be marvelous if it could speak back to us.” She laughed at her own joke.
Irene frowned. “Eclectus Parrot? Is that what it is?”
“Oh, yes,” she said brightly. “The colors give it away.”
Irene took her bird off and stared at it. “I’d never thought it anything but a colorful bird.”
“Well, my father was the one who told me what it was, actually.” Alice reached out and made the bird shake in Irene’s hand. “He told me the story of how your father gave it to your mother. He brought it after a trip to Australia.”
Irene was surprised. “My father never told me that.”
Alice smile softened. “My father shared much with me. We are close.”
Are? Not were?
“You never married,” Irene said. It wasn’t a question, just an observation.
Alice shrugged and turned to the canvas. “None of the men I wanted were good enough. My father always had some sort of story that would warn me away from them. Eventually, I decided it would be best to remain a spinster. My father thought that best as well.” Her smile slid away as she turned to Irene again. “You can never truly trust a man, I discovered.”
“I trust Clive,” Irene said defensively. She wasn’t sure why Alice’s words troubled her, but they did.
Alice smiled again. “Oh, yes, dear Clive. He’s come a long way from his tragic beginnings, hasn’t he?”
Irene stiffened. She’d been surprised by Alice’s free use of her husband’s name, but the words that followed worried her. “You know about his past?”
Alice leaned close to Irene and whispered, “I adored Lord Fawley just as much as you did once upon a time. And Lord Coalwater. And Lord Ganden. And Astlen and Denhallow. They’re all so beautiful, are they not? But my father set me straight on them and every other man I liked.” She straightened then. “I’m glad you both are happy. I’m glad everyone is happy. Clearly, love has changed them.”
Irene didn’t know what to say about that. She hadn’t known Crow had been aware of Clive’s past, but it made sense. He’d been close to her father. Why wouldn’t he have known?
Alice grabbed her suddenly. A laugh was in her eyes. “Can you imagine what life would have been like if I’d not listened to my father? I could have been married to Lord Astlen! With you being married to Clive, it would have made us all but sisters!” She leaned closer. “Even better, I could have been you.”
Irene took her arm back and stepped away. She was disturbed by the conversation. “We should go join the others.”
“Oh, yes, I believe Alvin should be up from his nap now.” She led the way from the room. “I do want to try holding him again. I wish him to like me.”
Irene walked with her and smiled indulgently while Alice chatted away. Once they joined the others however, she excused herself in search of Clive.
She found Clive with Garrick. Marley had been in the receiving room with the women.
They stood over Marley’s desk and moved toward them to look at the paper they held. It was a list of chairs.
“We’re trying to see if your father had other thrones,” Clive said. “Or at least, seats he may have considered to be a throne.”
It was a good idea. “I see his wheelchair is on the list. You should start there. It was always quite heavy even with him out of it.”
“Do you know where the wheelchair might be?” Clive said.
“I gave it away to a local gentry family who needed it.”
Clive and Garrick shared a look.
“I’ll go,” Clive said.
“Wait.” Irene swallowed. “I have something I need to discuss with you.” And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to leave, not now.
“What is it?” Clive asked. With a troubled expression, he walked around the desk and took hold of her arms. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I…” She looked at Garrick before looking at her husband again. “It’s about you and… your past.”
Clive nodded tentatively. “Well, anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Garrick.”
“I can be trusted, my lady,” Garrick said with a bow. It was the first time he’d spoken to her.
“All right.” She took another calming breath. “Alice knows.”
“Knows?” Clive asked with a lifted brow.
“About your past.” She looked at Garrick. “She knows about you and the others as well. Her father knew about all of you. He likely got it from my father. I’m so sorry—”
“Quit blaming yourself,” Clive commanded.
Irene stopped immediately.
He turned to Garrick. “What do you think all this means?”
“I’m not sure.” Garrick looked at Irene. “I’ll need to know everything that happened before I can truly know what to think. How did this come about?”
Irene blinked at him. Garrick was so different when he wasn’t being silent. His beauty was enhanced further by his voice. Irene cleared her throat. “I… would rather not say how the conversation came out. It was… strange. She knew about my hairpin as well.” Irene had placed it in her pocket after she’d left the studio. “She knew its history.”
“Stay away from her,” Clive said. Then he shook his head. “You’re coming with me to the estate.”
Garrick frowned at Clive. “You can’t leave, not until Kent or James returns.”
“One of them is due today. We’ll leave right after they arrive.”
Irene didn’t understand his worry, but she’d seen a flash of panic in Clive’s eyes when she’d spoken of the hairpin. “What about my portrait? And I thought we were all going to stay together?”
“She’s right,” Garrick said. “We must stay together.”
“And you can’t expect me to stay away from Alice,” Irene went on. “She’s everywhere.”
Clive ran a hand through his hair. “Fine, just… don’t be alone with her again.”
Irene nodded. She didn’t wish to be alone with the woman either. However, she wanted to know what else the woman knew. Perhaps, Alice could help them.
Clive pointed a finger at Garrick. “You and I shall speak later.” He seemed particularly upset w
ith his friend.
Garrick seemed unbothered as he turned to Irene. “Thank you for sharing what you learned, my lady.”
“Call me Irene,” she said. She’d never extended the offer before, because he’d never spoken to her before.
He bowed and then smiled. “Irene.”
The door opened behind her and Irene gasped and then ran into Cassius’ arms. Her cousin smiled. She landed with a hard thud against his wide chest. His strong arms circled her.
“I suppose you are happy to see me.”
She pulled away. Tears glittered her eyes. “Always.”
∫ ∫ ∫
5 4
* * *
“Clive sent for me,” Cass told her.
“Took you long enough,” Clive said as he walked over and shook Cassius’ hand. He was smiling as well.
Cass sobered. “Forgive me. I’ve not been home these last few days. I received your missive two days ago. Now I am here. I’m sorry that you lost everything in the fire.”
“Not everything,” Clive said, wrapping an arm around Irene.
Cass smiled in understanding. A warmth was in his golden eyes that was usually lacking, and Irene thought him genuinely happy to be there.
Irene asked, “How long will you be staying?”
“Until all of this is over,” her cousin said.
“I’m sorry you’re being forced to be in the city,” she said.
He nodded and then looked around. “Marley’s home doesn’t make me feel like we’re in the city. Will we be leaving the property for any reason?”
“Not at all,” Clive said sternly. “I have to go to the country estate. Irene must stay here.”
“We’ll be fine,” Cass promised. He placed a hand on Irene’s shoulder and once again, Irene was given a new guardian. She couldn’t wait until Crow finally came out of hiding. Her stomach flipped.
Clive pulled Irene into the foyer so they could speak alone. “This will be your first night without me. Will you be all right?”
How had he known she’d been thinking about that? She clung to his arm. She didn’t want him to go but understood that someone needed to. “What if Crow comes for me while I’m gone?”
Pain of The Marquess: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 26