‘Isabelle is planning to visit The National Gallery.’ Lily voiced her announcement in a zealous tone. ‘Mother believes it will be dull. She does not wish to go, but I would go if I were allowed.’
Constantine bent down on one knee to gain eye level with the child. ‘Indeed. I will remember you said that, so I may be the first to escort you there. The National Gallery is one of my favourite places to visit. As a matter of coincidence, I have business to conduct there this very day. Shall I convince your sister to share a carriage with me?’ He glanced across the room to where Isabelle strove to look disinterested in the conversation. Her contrived boredom opposed with Meredith’s overeager entreaty to sit, stay, and join them for tea.
‘Lily, shame on you. You will give Lord Highborough the wrong impression. I never said those silly things about the art gallery.’ Meredith eyed him with an exaggerated look of tolerance, as if to convey her daughter spun fairytales. Constantine doubted Lily spoke a word of untruth.
‘I would be most interested in viewing the collections. I will join you both.’ The adults in the room exchanged flitting glances, although no one took a seat and they all remained standing in the middle of the drawing room.
Confused by the undercurrent of emotion, Lily broke the silence. ‘What is in that package, Lord Highborough?’ She indicated the painting.
‘Lily.’ Isabelle stepped forward and gently touched her stepsister’s shoulder. ‘How many times have I reminded you to use your manners? Ask kindly and politely.’ Then she flicked her eyes to his briefly. ‘I apologise, Lord Highborough. Lily’s curiosity gets the better of her at times.’
He hated her use of his title and surname. It seemed a ridiculous waste of time to pretend they were newly acquainted. Besides, he’d become fond of the cadence of his Christian name on her lips. Her voice managed to speak straight to his heart. A heart buried deep under layers of other disagreeable emotions.
‘No offence taken. Curiosity can drive a person to do all types of unexpected things.’ He enjoyed the tinge of pink that dusted Isabelle’s cheeks as she spun away. He regarded Lily, ready to present his gift and answer her question, but the child had grown utterly quiet and stood before him with a serious expression on her sweet face.
‘Yes. Kindly and politely.’ She straightened her posture and tilted her head to the side. ‘I see you are holding a package, Lord Highborough. If I may be so bold, would you care to tell us what is inside?’
Everyone shared an amused laugh at Lily’s polite inquiry and it served well to lighten the mood in the room.
‘Unfortunately this package is not for you,’ He placed the painting against a nearby chair. ‘But I have not forgotten you.’ He withdrew a small bag from his waistcoat pocket and handed it forward. ‘I hope you like hard bake as much as I did as a child.’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Lily broke off a small piece of the glazed almond candy and popped it into her mouth. Her smile conveyed her delight.
Constantine’s eyes fell upon Isabelle as she watched the child with open affection. How wonderful it must feel to be so adored. An unexpected twinge tightened his chest as stark despair reminded him he would never know such honest emotion. The feeling dissipated before he could think better of it.
‘And for both ladies – ’ Constantine handed the painting to Meredith ‘ – a housewarming gift for your arrival in London.’
Meredith unwrapped the package with care. ‘How very lovely. Red flowers in a vase.’ Her voice conveyed a fanciful tone. ‘This painting will certainly add the touch of colour this room wants. I adore it.’ Her eyes flicked to Constantine before she walked to the fireplace and placed the painting above it. It leaned against the wall and looked rather perfect as it rested on the mantelpiece. Constantine smiled with satisfaction and Meredith beamed. ‘I’m immensely flattered that you would take the time to create such beauty and gift it to me.’
‘Dahlias are Isabelle’s favourite flower.’ Lily’s comment was muffled by the mouthful of candy she had stored in one cheek, but her words remained decipherable. Con snapped his attention to Isabelle in just enough time to see her smile before she forced it from her face.
‘Are they? I had no idea.’
‘Well, how could you?’ Meredith responded in a light tone, although her gaze passed from Constantine to Isabelle with a swift stroke. ‘Thank you so much for my gift, Lord Highborough. The splash of red adds something special to the room, wouldn’t you agree?’
Constantine’s eyes never left Isabelle as he answered the question. ‘Absolutely.’
He caught her smile this time, if it could be called that, the slight tilt of her mouth. He returned the caress, his grin a slow pull.
‘Won’t you stay for refreshments?’ Meredith walked to the bell pull, but he interjected before she might summon the tea service.
‘In truth, if we are to travel to The National Gallery, we should be on our way within the hour. May I return with my carriage to call on you then?’
With arrangements made to leave as soon as possible, Constantine took a last look at the painting and left the Rossmore residence.
Chapter Nine
Isabelle met Meredith’s gaze with confidence although she knew her stepmother perceived more from Constantine’s unexpected visit than she admitted. The unspoken words seemed the loudest in the room as they made light conversation and readied for their trip to the gallery. The sudden change in plans created havoc with her emotions. When Con suggested they all visit the gallery together, guilt and anticipation flooded her heart in equal measure. In the end, anticipation won the battle.
Now as she waited in the drawing room for the arrival of the Highborough barouche, Isabelle flitted from one corner of the room to the other. She startled and almost dropped her gloves when the butler entered to announce Lady Newby. The elderly woman moved into the room, the unmistakable thud of her cane preceding her approach.
Meredith stepped forward, a greeting on her lips. ‘Giddy, it is lovely to see you. Come in.’
‘Good morning, ladies. I cannot stay long, so do not call for tea. I wanted to assure you I have secured your names on Lady Stanton’s guest list for tomorrow evening. Her parties are always enjoyable, albeit slightly unconventional. The festivities begin indoors but soon extend to her elaborate gardens. Make sure to wear your most comfortable slippers.’ The older woman offered the news with a blithe nod of her head then thumped her cane to punctuate her statement.
‘I’m thrilled with this news.’ Meredith’s eyes flared wide and her grin possessed a triumphal air. ‘Everything is falling into place with uncritical simplicity.’
Lily appeared on the stairs and skipped down to investigate the caller. Evidence of an overindulgence of candy laced her mouth. ‘Good day, Lady Newby. Are you visiting The National Gallery as well?’
Quick to explain her daughter’s inquiry, Meredith rushed to Giddy’s side. ‘Lord Highborough has asked me to accompany him to the art gallery this afternoon. I am very pleased by his invitation.’
Isabelle watched as Giddy smiled in response to her stepmother’s rearranged version of the truth. She edged closer to the stairway hoping to decipher their low toned conversation.
‘Excellent news, my dear, and exactly what we wished.’ Giddy touched Meredith’s arm. ‘I have known the scoundrel for many years, and while he may enjoy giving the impression he has little use for the world, underneath his expertly tailored waistcoat he possesses a heart of gold.’ The older woman paused and a wry smile creased her face. ‘He certainly wasted no time, but then Constantine proved impatient even at his own birth. He arrived a good two weeks early and London has never been the same.’
‘I am very happy with this development and I thank you for your assistance. I will see you tomorrow evening at the Stanton affair.’ Meredith returned to Lily and ushered her upstairs to settle with her governess before they took their leave. Isabelle observed the action with suspicious scrutiny. Meredith’s sudden attention to Lily could only be
attributed to her desire to have nothing disrupt the planned outing.
She turned from the stairs, surprised to see Giddy lingered in the hall. ‘My apologies Lady Newby, may I help you with something?’
‘Actually dear, I mean to offer you a bit of advice. I am aware your stepmother wishes to become better acquainted with Lord Highborough, but do not seek to emulate her lead. While the earl exemplifies the look of an angel, one should not be deceived by the tempting paradox he presents. His piercing blue eyes will entrance any young debutante, but be assured he is well acquainted with sin and debauchery. Surely the devil knows how he can remain the ton’s favourite scoundrel while living the life of a well rehearsed reprobate.’
Confused, Isabelle shook her head. ‘But you encouraged Meredith to pursue him?’
Giddy tutted, as if the question was a nuisance. ‘You are an innocent. Your stepmother looks for amusement, not a meaningful relationship. You deserve better than to lose what is most precious to a renowned rakehell. Never doubt that while he may be dashing for her, he is dangerous for you.’
Giddy’s words resonated with ill ease as they awaited the Highborough carriage. By the time the butler announced its arrival, Isabelle regretted the situation in its entirety. Should she tell Meredith of her previous meetings with Constantine? It wasn’t as though they were planned instances, but in the light of day it seemed wrong not to share their occurrence. An inner voice warned that admitting such would cause great disharmony. Now combined with Lady Newby’s vehement warning to avoid the earl at all costs, Isabelle’s head spun with confusion.
She was never one to play at secrecy and deceit, nor risk hurting someone for whom she cared. They came to London so Meredith could pursue the Earl of Colehill. She had no right whatsoever developing affection for him. Her father’s critical assessment of her appearance resounded like an echo in her heart: Why would such a breathtaking man find her garish colouring and unfortunate appearance desirous?
She tried in earnest to rationalise the reasons the earl might find her interesting, still whenever she thought of Constantine, desire, heady and delicious, pulsated with renewed awareness on the heels of her vow to dismiss his attention. A mere glance in his direction brought back the exhilarating sensation of their clasped hands the night before. His words, whispered hotly against her temple, intimated barely restrained control and the very idea that he might entertain wicked thoughts involving the two of them prevented her sleep and haunted her dreams with ineffable fantasies. Whenever she considered the logical solution, to never be in his company again, her heart constricted with such sharpness she discarded the idea as unhealthy. If this was the stuff of adventure, she would never last the season. Still she wanted it – a true adventure – even though guilt overwhelmed her for desiring the same.
‘Isabelle,’ Meredith hissed from the entryway. ‘The earl is waiting.’
Snapped from her discordant thoughts, Isabelle picked up her gloves and hurried out the door. The finest carriage she’d ever set eyes upon stood in the roadway before their townhouse. The landau glinted black in the bright sunlight, its handsome design complete with red painted wheels. Gleaming brass fixtures complemented the fine glass windows draped in soft velvet. The steps extended below the smart door where the Highborough crest was displayed in ornate detail. At the head, three glorious stallions stood to attention. The lead horse had its mane tied with ribbon, a deep crimson colour that contrasted against the glossy chestnut coat brushed to a high sheen.
As expected, a few gawking pedestrians stationed themselves on the pavement across the roadway. Meredith seemed to take special delight in the attention. Isabelle was simply relieved to see the tiger and outrider did not include Brooks. Constantine escorted Meredith inside the landau first and just as he turned to gather Isabelle’s hand, Lily burst forth from the townhouse having spied them from the upstairs window.
‘This is the most wonderful horse I have ever seen, Lord Highborough. What is his name?’ The child caught the belated flare of Isabelle’s eyes and paused before she continued. ‘Yes, I know, kindly and politely.’ She took a short breath and turned in Constantine’s direction. ‘Would you be so good as to tell me your horse’s name, kind sir?’
Con chuckled at the interplay. His laughter, rich and disarming, caused warmth to collect in Isabelle’s middle, and settle lower, effectively banishing her earlier thoughts of anger and frustration.
‘This is Merlot. He is an Arabian stallion. Would you like to rub his nose?’
‘Indeed.’ Lily reached up to where Constantine held the horse’s harness, and patted the fine animal’s snout with affectionate. ‘I would like to ride him actually.’
Meredith’s head appeared at the carriage door. ‘If Lord Highborough gives you permission, darling.’
Isabelle objected without pause. ‘Absolutely not, Meredith. Lily is six years old. She could never remain seated on such a huge animal.’
‘I must agree with your sister.’ He cast the child a consoling glance. ‘You should wait until you are grown.’
‘Again?’ The child’s palpable disappointment dared everyone to smile. ‘I must wait until I am older to go to the gallery, to waltz, to fall in love and kiss.’
‘Lily!’ Meredith and Isabelle responded in unison.
‘I do not know where she hears such things.’ Meredith cast a flirtatious smile in Constantine’s direction.
‘I do.’ Isabelle bit out the low mutter.
A maid emerged and ushered Lily indoors and with everyone settled. Lord Highborough mounted the box and with a sharp snap of the reins, he set the carriage into motion.
The afternoon did not proceed as he had hoped. Meredith’s loquacious nature proved she knew little of the arts. She sought to fill the afternoon with social conversation akin to a card party. Isabelle, on the other hand, remained thoughtful and quiet. He could not decipher if the gallery or Meredith’s unending chatter drove her to the condition.
‘If you will excuse me.’ Isabelle’s eyes darted from his to Meredith’s as she turned.
They had almost reached the gallery’s collection of marbles. He stalled as soon as Isabelle spoke, and the abrupt gesture caused Meredith to cling tighter to his arm. She had locked onto his escort as soon as they entered the museum and he was sure little could cause her to release him. Isabelle remained a few steps ahead as if she wished to separate from their outing with urgency.
‘I am sure the both of you would enjoy a little privacy.’
Her words sounded tentative and he offered no reply as she pivoted to the right and disappeared through a nearby doorway. She moved with such quick steps he concluded she fled due to an illogical conclusion he sought to spend time alone with Meredith.
Much to his dismay, he did not find Isabelle until much later in the afternoon. Having excused himself to conduct business, he left Meredith in the gallery’s tearoom with a plate of biscuits and ladies of her acquaintance. Meredith seemed pleased to be offered the reprieve and found conversation with ease.
With purpose, he’d spoken to the curator about his missing paintings. Brooks had ferreted out a shred of information indicating the curator had a hand in underground art dealing, proposed legitimate sales, and a variety of underhand associations. Art world gossip often proved unreliable, yet somehow the curator had managed to keep his nose above water and maintain a position at The National Gallery. Constantine was familiar with the type and expected the response he received with their conversation. The man claimed he knew nothing of importance. Still it was advantageous to meet eye to eye and Constantine left his calling card then set out to hunt his true quarry.
He spied Isabelle standing alone in front of one of his favourite works of art in a small room at the rear of the gallery. He stalled; content to watch her from afar. Her delicate profile, the lush promise of her full breasts and softly turned hips, the fiery insistence of each tendril of her hair, spoke to him with delectable temptation. She appeared an otherworldly goddess and far
more beautiful than any sculpture housed in the famous museum or painted by any artist’s brush. And her smiles, every shade of colour was evident in each breathtaking curve of her lips.
But she did not smile now. As he approached, he noticed a tear in her eye and the slight quaver of her chin.
‘It is a rare coincidence I find you before this particular painting. It often holds me captivated. The strong strokes of colour and the subtle emotions hidden in the shaded hues of paint; I believe the artist possessed a deep romantic soul.’ Con paused and stepped closer as he viewed her face in the shadowy light. ‘There is a definite softness about it. At first, it appears an impressive portrayal layered with striking undertones, but those who fail to look closely will miss the true meaning, the undercurrent of sensual passion hidden behind the sweet sensibility.’ He reached forward and brushed a wayward curl from her temple and the unexpected caress evoked a slight shiver. ‘What do you see?’
Chapter Ten
‘It makes my heart ache.’ Her voice sounded constricted and Isabelle sought to change the subject at the odd onslaught of pleasure and pride that Constantine sought her opinion. She took a small breath and reordered her emotions. ‘Should you not be showing Meredith the masterpieces, milord?’
He scoffed mildly. ‘She has decided the tearoom is more to her liking. I believe, if pressed for an honest opinion, your stepmother’s earlier summation of the gallery would remain unchanged.’ A now familiar hint of smile threatened his mouth and her eyes lingered there.
Before her stood the finest work of art in the gallery. His mouth sculpted with meticulous care, not just to form pretty words but to offer kisses and give pleasure. A rush of goose bumps prevented her from finishing the thought and she turned from him with an exhale. Good Lord, she could not think straight when he stood near.
To Love a Wicked Scoundrel Page 9