by Abby Ayles
“Now, now,” Mr. Covington laughed. “I am sure you would find many more that are just as knowledgeable as I am. But for now, I am the best you have.”
“Shall we go inside?” Duke Cartwright held out his hand.
“That would be fabulous, yes.” Mr. Covington passed him by, smiling at the rest of them as he went. He stopped inside the foyer, looking around with wide eyes.
“What a lovely home! This interior decorating. You chose well, your grace. You chose well.”
Duke Cartwright smiled at him.
“Thank you, Mr. Covington.”
Mr. Covington placed his hands behind his back and began to walk slowly around the foyer, taking in the furnishings, the decorations, the art hanging on the walls. He looked satisfied.
Annabelle watched him make the round, looking up at Duke Colbourn to see what his reaction was. He was watching Mr. Covington, as well, the smile on his face nearly undetectable.
Mr. Covington came back to them after surveying one side of the room. His eyes were alight with energy.
“If this is a representation of the artwork you have, my Lord, I am excited to see the rest.”
“We have collected a good deal of valuable works of art, Mr. Covington. I am sure you have heard of some of them.”
Mr. Covington nodded.
“I will be surprised if I have not heard of them all, my Lord. Mr. Covington tells me that you have the Tiziano Vecelli he has been looking for. That is good news, indeed. He has been searching for some time.”
“I did not know it was in your possession until recently, my Lord,” Duke Colbourn told Duke Cartwright.
“It has been a well-known secret.”
“A well-known secret?” Joanna said. They all turned to look at her. She blushed and dropped her eyes. Mr. Covington walked to her, placing his hand under her chin, and lifting it up so she had to look at him.
“What a lovely creature you are,” he said, his voice soft and breathless. “Such artistry, such beauty I could make with a face like this on a canvas. Oh yes, I could. You would be breath-taking, absolutely breath-taking!”
Joanna looked terrified. Her face turned red. He laughed and tapped her chin lightly.
“I do not mean to scare you, my Lady. You must already know that you are a beautiful woman. Like your sisters and the duchess here. You are surrounded by beautiful women, your grace. What a lucky man you are.”
“Thank you, Mr. Covington. I quite agree. The parlor is this way. Shall we have some tea?”
“A lovely idea, indeed!” Mr. Covington followed the duke to the door of the parlor. They all moved into the room one by one. Annabelle made sure to walk in behind Duke Colbourn, so she could stand near him wherever he went.
He glanced back several times, making eye contact with her. He was keeping tabs on her. It made her heart melt every time their eyes met.
Standing near him, she watched as Mr. Covington circled the room, again admiring the furnishings, the grand clock standing in the corner, the artwork on the walls. She stayed where she was when Duke Colbourn went to him.
“The Tiziano Vecelli is in the storage room where the rest of them are, Mr. Covington ,” Duke Colbourn said.
“After we have some refreshments, we should go immediately and see them. I would like your opinion.”
“That is why I came,” Mr. Covington laughed. Annabelle could tell they would have to get used to hearing that laughter. She believed he could be told that someone had died and he would find a way to turn it into something positive. He eyed his friend.
“Are you in a hurry to leave, your Grace? I was under the impression from your last letter that you intended to stay longer than originally planned.”
“I am planning to stay, Mr. Covington , and you are welcome, too, I am assuming.”
Mr. Covington shook his head. “Never assume, my Lord. Always know.”
Duke Colbourn.
“I do know. I asked the Duke for his permission and he has had a room made ready for you. If you wish to stay.”
“I have not seen you in some time, my Lord. I am wanting to stay. But I must ask, before we see the paintings, I would like to have a private discussion with you, if that is possible.”
Duke Colbourn looked out the window.
“It does not appear there is rain on the way. Would you like to see the garden? It is a work of beauty on its own.”
“This mountainside is a thing of beauty,” Mr. Covington said as he walked toward the duke, who had seated himself in a chair near the fireplace. Mary would be in soon with refreshments. The rest of them took seats around the duke, all eyes on the newcomer. “I should love to see the garden.”
“We will return shortly.”
Duke Cartwright nodded, waving one hand. “Do as you please. Consider my home yours for the time being.”
“Thank you, your grace. That is very kind of you.”
The two men walked toward the door. Duke Colbourn looked at Annabelle over his shoulder, giving her a warm smile. She blinked, smiling back. She felt like a silly girl, thinking she would miss him while he was gone. Even for a half hour.
Duke Colbourn and Mr. Covington did not speak until they were at the garden gate. Mr. Covington stopped and stood there for a moment, taking in what he could of the small hillside representation in the middle of the vast garden.
“Oh my,” he said breathlessly. “Oh, this is something to behold, is it not?” He pulled open the gate and went through, looking back at Duke Colbourn.
“This is simply amazing. What a work of art!” He went directly down the path to the closest area he could get to the hill fountain. “What is this?”
“The servants call it hill fountain. I do not know if it has a proper name. It has small carvings that look like the hillside as you come up to the mansion.”
Mr. Covington nodded.
“I can see that. It is amazing work! I could never carve such small figures that look so very lifelike. Such exact representations of the real thing. Oh my, I am impressed.”
Duke Colbourn grinned. “Shall we talk about the paintings?”
Mr. Covington looked sober for a moment, losing his smile, though it was still hidden in his eyes.
“You are under the impression the duke has been taken? The paintings are not genuine?”
“I do not know for certain. Yes, it is my impression. That is why I need you to be here. I cannot buy them if they are forgeries and the duke will need to be told as much.”
“What has made you think they are not the genuine paintings?”
“Small defects I think no one else has seen. They may not be defects. They may be parts of the paintings I did not know were there. I have never seen them before in person.”
Mr. Covington shook his head, standing stiff with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were focused on the hill fountain as he took in every small detail.
“If you think the paintings are forgeries, I will certainly check for any signs of defect. How many do you suspect?”
“Three.”
“Is one of them the Vecelli?”
Duke Colbourn shook his head.
“Thankfully, no. I do believe that one is genuine. However, with my untrained eye, I truly cannot say.”
“I will check for you, my Lord. If there is any chance they are not genuine, I will know.”
“I know. That is why I asked you to come.”
Mr. Covington’s smile was back.
“Yes, we established that, did we not?”
Duke Colbourn. “We did.”
“You are wanting to stay longer because of the young lady in there? Miss Cartwright?”
Duke Colbourn raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes. How did you know?”
Mr. Covington laughed loudly. “It does not take a trained eye to see how the two of you look at each other. There is obviously something between you. Are you courting her?”
“I am.”
“Oh? And when did this be
gin? Why have you not written to me about it?”
“I just received permission yesterday. I am afraid my letter would have been delayed until after you got here.”
They both laughed.
“I am happy for you, my Lord. If there is anything I can do to help the process along, please do let me know.”
Duke Colbourn gave Mr. Covington a slap on the shoulder.
“You are a good friend, Mr. Covington . I am glad you are here.”
Chapter 23
Annabelle stood by the window and watched the two men in the garden. Feeling like she was spying on them, she turned to the side and looked at her father. She wanted to talk to him again. He was melancholy the last time, saying that she would be marrying soon and he would lose his little girl.
Now, after what had happened the day before with Joanna, she wondered if his opinion of Duke Colbourn had changed.
He seemed a little guarded, which disappointed Annabelle. She did not want her father to object to a relationship between them. Joanna had planted a seed of doubt that had not been there before.
The Duke sat in his chair without speaking, lifting the tea cup to his lips every now and then, staring at the non-existent fire in the fireplace. Annabelle walked to him.
“Do you want me to light a fire, father?” She asked softly. The duke looked up at her in surprise, as if he had not expected her to come over and speak to him. His face relaxed after a moment and he smiled, shaking his head.
“No, I am not cold. Are you cold?”
“Oh, no, father, it is quite warm today.”
“Bring a chair, my dear, and sit with me. We can talk.”
Annabelle sat in the chair nearest to him, vacated by the duchess, who had taken her leave for an afternoon nap. She leaned toward her father.
“I am worried, father.”
He gave her a sober look.
“As am I. Tell me, daughter, what it is you are worried about?”
“I worry for many reasons. I worry that Joanna is troubled and that we will not be able to help her mature. I worry that you have… thoughts of doubt about Duke Colbourn. I worry that you will object if our relationship continues to grow.”
Duke Cartwright turned his eyes back to the blackness of the fireplace.
“I worry for those reasons, as well. And for others. I worry about your mother, your sister, Julia. I worry about the state of the house, whether the servants are satisfied and taken care of, whether the businesses will fail. There are many worries in this world. We must pick which ones are the most important.”
Annabelle tilted her hand, trying to understand what was most important to her father. He had mentioned several things she considered much more important than the rumors and lies of a jealous young woman. She hoped he felt the same way about it.
“What is important, father? Tell me what to be worried about.”
He smiled at her without humor.
“I cannot tell you what to worry about, my dear. You will worry about the things that are closest to your heart. What is it you are most worried about?”
She tilted her head and leaned even closer. “I fear you will object to Duke Colbourn and I. I worry that mother’s opinion will sway you.”
Duke Cartwright looked down at the floor before moving his eyes back to the fireplace.
“The Duchess is a hard woman to read. She is softer inside than she appears.”
Annabelle gave her father a doubtful look.
“I cannot imagine it, father. Mother? Soft?” She tried to picture her mother in a situation that would cause her to react in a soft way.
She could not imagine even one. She always assumed her mother was cold about everything she did. She showed little affection to her daughters. It was not something Annabelle was used to seeing.
“I know you do not see it, Annabelle. But you must realize that your mother has been through many traumatic events in her life. They have shaped and formed her opinion of the world. She was not always the woman she is now. She has grown distant to society and the ton. She does not seek their approval when she sends you and the girls to the parties. She seeks her own approval, something I am afraid the poor woman may never receive.”
Annabelle felt sorry for her mother. “But why not, father? Is she not capable of loving herself?”
Duke Cartwright’s eyes snapped to his daughter’s face.
“That is very intuitive of you, my dear. No. It seems she is always seeking a perfection none of us can attain. That is why she is hard on you and your sisters. It is because she is hard on herself.”
Annabelle dropped her head, looking at the empty fireplace with sad eyes. She suddenly understood why her father was staring into the blackness.
Seeing nothing but the black soot against the back of the stone fireplace helped clear her mind of all thoughts but those she wanted to think.
She was not distracted by movement or color. She could stare into the darkness and analyze what was worrying her.
“You are too young to be worrying about the many things that live in my mind, my dear,” her father said, putting his hand out to her. She took it and he held it between them, smiling.
“You are too young and too pretty. You will have a fine husband and many lovely children. I look forward to seeing them and playing with them and watching them grow.”
“Oh father, you speak of such things with wisdom. I will listen to your advice, I make you that promise.”
“You are a good daughter,” the Duke said, squeezing her hand. “I do love you.”
“I love you, too.” She got up and leaned over to hug him around the shoulders. Once again, as she always did, she breathed in his scent, imprinting it in her mind so that she would always know when her father was near. Smelling it would remind her of the hugs and the love her father gave her.
He looked up at her, leaning forward and whispering in a voice just loud enough for her to hear, “Now you go and check on the duke and his friend. I know you want to see if they are still in the garden.”
Annabelle giggled, standing up and going back to the window. It looked like the Duke and Mr. Covington were taking a quick walk around the hill fountain. She turned when she felt a presence next to her.
Julia was smiling at her, her small arms folded over her chest. “How are you feeling, Annabelle? Are you all right?”
Annabelle nodded.
“Oh yes, how could I not be? My father has given his permission to court Duke Colbourn. I could not be happier.”
“He has forgiven Duke Colbourn for the incident with Joanna?”
“He had no need to forgive Duke Colbourn,” Annabelle said, unable to keep the defensiveness from her voice.
“It was Joanna he has forgiven. Duke Colbourn did nothing wrong.” She looked at Julia. “You know this.”
Julia nodded. “Yes, I misspoke.”
Annabelle tilted her head to the side.
“You do not believe Joanna, do you, Julia?”
Julia’s face turned to one of regret. She shrugged.
“I do not know what to believe, Annabelle. She is my sister. I cannot believe she would make up such terrible lies, just to get revenge on a man who spurned her.”
“But the Duke did not do what she said he did,” Annabelle insisted. “You know that Joanna was not telling the truth.”
“She has never admitted to it.” Julia’s arms were still crossed in front of her chest. She turned away from Annabelle, looking out the window at the men in the garden. They were making their way around the other side, beginning the walk back to the house. The look on her face showed that she did not want to believe her sister.
Annabelle decided to drop the topic. It had to be sensitive for Julia, knowing that her sister was capable of viciously attacking someone who had done nothing wrong. Especially the duke. Her Duke. The thought of it brought back Annabelle’s anger.
She mentally pushed the feeling away. Her anger would get her nowhere. Her father had forgiven Joanna, there
was probably some type of punishment involved and Lord Rickman had been notified of his daughter’s deceit. There was nothing more to be done.
She was glad to see the men were heading back into the house. They would want refreshments. She turned and hurried to the table where the pastries and tea were sitting.
She poured two cups of tea and set several pastries on a small tray. She wanted to have it ready for him when he came in the door. Someday, it would be her job to serve him in whatever capacity he needed. She would be perfectly willing.
When he came through the door, the exuberant Mr. Covington behind him, their eyes met. She lifted the tray and held it out to him.
“Please take a cup of tea and a pastry. Mr. Covington?”
Both men immediately removed the cups from the tray.
“Thank you, my Lady,” Mr. Covington said. He sounded impressed. Duke Colbourn was looking at her with loving eyes.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft. Mr. Covington looked from his friend to the lady and back with a large smile.
“You see, your Grace? You simply cannot miss it. Only a fool would miss it!”
Duke Colbourn colored slightly, a look Annabelle was not used to. She knew instinctively what Mr. Covington was talking about and realized that once again, she had been talked about. This time, the thought made her want to giggle.
She set the tray down on the table beside her and lowered her head to the men. “I will leave you to your conversation.”
“You need not leave, Miss Cartwright,” Mr. Covington said.
“Do not do so on my account. I am pleased to know that my good friend has a lovely woman by his side. I encourage you to be good to him. He has always been good to others.”
“That is a lot of goods in one speech, Mr. Covington ,” Duke Colbourn said with a laugh. He looked atAnnabelle.
“We are very complimentary towards one another. It keeps us both in good moods.”
That made Annabelle giggle.
She picked up one of the pastries and took a bite, moving her eyes from one to the other. Mr. Covington launched into an adventurous story about a time he and Duke Colbourn had taken a ship across the ocean to America and the storm they endured that made them question their decisions in life. They had both feared for their lives but survived the ordeal to tell the story.