by Ava Stone
Greg’s eyes widened slightly. “Is mother driving her mad already?”
“Probably,” Cordie agreed with a laugh. “But she didn’t say as much.” She shook her head. “She and Hutchinson are preparing to send Bradley back to England for Harrow and she was hoping you and Brendan could be counted upon to keep an eye on him and on his studies.”
Greg’s brow creased just a bit. “I already offered to do so when she agreed to let Mother stay with them for a while. Figured it was the least I could do.”
Cordie shrugged. “I’m sure she’s simply nervous about the idea of being so far away from her son. I know I would be if it was me.”
“We have a long time before that day comes for us,” Lord Clayworth said softly, which earned him a beatific smile from his wife.
“Thank heavens.” Then Cordie glanced across the coach at Bella and Prissa and explained, “Our sister Eleanor and her family are in Tuscany.”
“For the time being,” Greg said. “Though they’re still bound for Vienna by the end of the year, are they not?”
“She hasn’t said otherwise,” his sister replied just as the coach rambled to a stop.
Out the window, stood the British Museum and Bella’s heart sped up a bit. She loved the museum. A few years ago, she could have made it a second home, quite happily so. How odd it was going to be, living in Nottinghamshire without the art and culture she was so accustomed to having nearby. She felt Greg’s eyes on her and she looked up at him to find a twinkle in his green gaze. Her belly flipped. All right, she could live without the British Museum.
The Clayworth footman opened the door and the earl exited first before assisting his wife from the conveyance. Greg followed the pair, offering his hand to Prissa and then to Bella.
My lady,” he said softly and tingles raced through her as his hand closed around hers. Greg gestured toward the museum entrance and said, “I’ll wager someday an Arabella Avery will hang from one of those walls.”
Bella’s cheeks stung from the compliment, though he had nothing to base his words on. “You haven’t even seen anything I’ve completed.”
“Whose fault is that?” he teased. “You should paint faster.”
“Someone keeps distracting me.”
“Someone can’t help himself,” he said and those tingles rushed through her once more.
“She’s brilliant,” Prissa gushed. “The most talented artist in all of England.” And then her sister’s eyes rounded slightly. “I-I mean, I’m certain you’re a brilliant artist too,” she said to Greg. “I didn’t mean—”
“Your loyalty to your sister is very sweet,” A ghost of a smile tipped Greg’s lips. He didn’t, after all, have an artistic bone in his body, but her sister had, of course, been told otherwise. Bella supposed all of that would eventually come out, but today wasn’t the day for such revelations.
“And I must agree with your original assessment,” Greg continued. “Bella is a much better artist than I am.”
Prissa grinned up at him. “Your loyalty to my sister is also very sweet, my lord. She is quite lucky to have you.”
“Ah, I think we’re lucky to have each other,” Greg replied as he winked at Bella and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Shall we go pick out the spot where they’ll hang your favorite piece?”
Bella couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “Your sister wants to see the marbles,” she reminded him.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Greg pretended to grumble. Then he glanced back at his sister and her husband. “Do lead on, Cordie. This was your idea.”
The countess tipped back her head with a regal air as she and her earl stepped inside the museum. Bella, Greg and Prissa followed right behind them. They made their way, the five of them past the grand staircase and through a couple of galleries when a rather surprising figure seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Bella had never met the Marquess of Haversham, but she had seen him from afar and the stories people told of the man…well, they could make even the most adventurous libertine quake just a bit, she was certain.
“My dear Lord Haversham!” Cordie said, affection evident in her voice. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here.”
Bella knew the earl and countess counted themselves amongst the marquess’ friends, but it was still difficult to believe. The Clayworths seemed so upstanding, so respectable.
“Do you think me an uncultured boor?” Haversham kissed Cordie’s cheek in greeting.
“You know better than that.” She grinned up at him.
Then the scandalous marquess offered his hand to Clayworth. “Always good to see you, my friend.”
Cordie quickly introduced the marquess to the rest of them. “You know Gregory, of course.” Then she waved her hand toward Bella and Prissa. “And his betrothed Lady Arabella and her sister Lady Priscilla.”
“Charmed,” the man replied before turning his attention back to the earl and countess. “But what I’ve been wondering for some time is who that scowling fellow is that’s been following you?”
Someone had been following them? Bella glanced behind them and…Goodness! What in the world was Johann doing there?
Her cousin was toward the far side of the gallery, his large arms folded across his chest, and he was glaring quite angrily in her direction. A feeling of doom washed over her.
“I’ve never seen him before,” Cordie muttered softly.
“He’s our cousin,” Bella said, as her stomach twisted in a knot. “Johann van Guttstadt, the Count of Hellsburg.”
“What an unfortunate name,” the marquess drawled.
“That is Hellsburg?” Greg asked, tightening his hold on Bella’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d arrived in Town?”
So much had happened since Johann had arrived – all of the awfulness with Elliott and then Greg wanting to marry her in earnest. Honestly, she’d been quite distracted whenever she and Greg were together, she hadn’t given Johann any thought at all. “He’s only been here a couple of days, Greg, and—”
“He’s been following us?” Prissa asked, touching a hand to her heart.
“Since you arrived at St. George’s,” Haversham replied. “I thought he was with you at first until it became obvious none of you had seen him.” He shrugged slightly as he added, “I thought it best to follow you myself and make certain you were all right.”
“Why do I have the feeling that something is going on that I don’t know about?” Clayworth muttered, glancing toward his wife.
“Well, I’ve certainly never seen him before, Brendan.”
“That did not answer my question, love.”
“Marc,” Cordie stared up at Haversham. “Has he done anything else? Talked to anyone or—”
“He’s just scowling unhappily at your pretty young friends here, but nothing nefarious.” He shook his head. “But I don’t like the look of him, to be honest though, Cordie.”
Who would have ever thought the Marquess of Haversham was such a good judge of character? Perhaps it came from rubbing elbows with the wrong sort his whole life. Before Bella could think more on that, however, Greg had released his hold on her and was stalking toward Johann.
“Oh my goodness!” Bella’s heart pounded. What in the world was Greg doing?
Odds were Greg would be banned for life from the museum if he knocked Hellsburg onto his arse in the middle of the portrait gallery. He thought it might be worth it, however. Anger rushed through his veins as he neared the man who was at least a head taller than himself, and Greg wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, he’d have surprise on his side, and he had no doubt he could level the Prussian right then and there amongst the portraits and busts that lined the gallery walls. Why the devil was he following them around Town?
“Hellsburg, are you?” he growled upon reaching the enormous blond man. And while he didn’t agree with Haversham on much, he didn’t like the look of the Prussian either.
“Avery, I t
ake it?” the man countered, his foreign accent sounding harsh to Greg’s ears.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
The man’s light eyes rounded slightly, but he shook his head innocently. “Taking in the sights.” Then he waved in the direction of Bella and the others. “You?”
Taking in the sights? Clearly, the man had no idea that Greg knew he’d followed them from the church. “St. George’s and the museum?” he asked. “Would you like the rest of our itinerary for the day in case we lose you somehow?”
A tiny smirk settled on the man’s lips. “What exactly were you doing at that church?”
“That is none of your concern.”
Hellsburg shrugged. “It is my Grandfather’s concern.”
Had Chatham set the Prussian on them? Greg wouldn’t put it past the duke. Though to what end? “He’s having you spy on your cousins?”
“She’s not for you,” Hellsburg said, scowling once again at Greg.
“Arabella?” Greg lifted his brow in question as fury began to pound through his veins. “As she is my betrothed, I would say she is very much for me.”
“You can have the other one if you’d like. She’s of no consequence to me.”
Greg snorted and the itch to knock the Prussian on his arse was growing by the second. What an obnoxious thing to say. “Arabella is of no consequence to you. She is my betrothed. And you will keep your distance from her.”
At that, a broad and mirthless smile spread across the man’s face. “We are living in the same house, Avery. It’s just a matter of time before I take her from you.”
The arrogance of the man. Greg scoffed. “If she’d wanted you, she wouldn’t be betrothed to me.”
Hellsburg shook his head. “Her wants mean nothing. She’s intended for me. That’s what my grandfather wants, and he always gets his way.”
“Not this time,” Greg growled.
“Time will tell.”
Indeed, it would. If that damned rector had been in Town, Bella would already be his wife. Tomorrow morning couldn’t come soon enough. “Leave Arabella alone.”
The man smirked once more and tipped his beaver hat in the direction of his cousins. Then he turned on his heel and strode back through the portrait gallery without even a glance back over his shoulder.
“What is going on, Avery?” came an unfortunate voice behind Greg.
Annoyed, he turned around and narrowed his eyes on his brother-in-law, who was not as upstanding as he pretended to be. “It’s none of your concern.”
“If that man is following my wife it concerns me.”
Greg shook his head. “Cordie has nothing to worry about from him. And neither do you.” Then he started back toward the women and that damned Haversham.
“Greg.” Bella released a staggered breath as she reached her hand out to him. “What did he say?”
Nothing Greg was going to repeat. There was no reason to upset her. As soon as he accepted her hand, that familiar calmness that always came from touching her washed back over him.
“You’re shaking,” she said softly, only loud enough for him to hear. Her silvery eyes bore into his, such concern, such…God in heaven, was that love he saw reflected back in her depths? Greg’s mouth went a little dry at the thought. There was something between them. He’d known that from almost the beginning, but love…
“The man is infuriating,” he muttered.
“Do you want to leave?” she asked.
Leaving would solve nothing. So Greg shook his head. “Not after all the talk of Elgin’s Marbles.” He feigned a smile for her benefit. “And we haven’t picked out the spot where one of your paintings will hang yet.”
That smile of hers that he couldn’t help but love settled upon her lips, and with it Greg was certain his heart expanded in his chest.
Chapter 22
Bella had seen the marbles a number of times over the last few months, and each time she was struck anew by the craftsmanship and the sheer talent of the ancient sculptors. But today, she’d been too nervous to give the marbles the attention owed them. How could she possibly focus on them when a sense of dread refused to leave her?
Why had Johann followed them? And what, exactly, had he said to Greg?
The Marquess of Haversham had long since departed their little group, saying something along the lines that their company was not beneficial to his well-honed reputation. Bella had liked him, despite herself. After all, they wouldn’t have known Johann had even been following them if it wasn’t for him.
The last thing she wanted to do was return home to Chatham House, to Johann, to Grandfather, but she didn’t have a choice. If only Mr. Bailey had been at St. George’s today, she was certain her unease would have abated by now. But each second they got closer and closer to home, the more her belly twisted with trepidation.
“You have sighed at least a dozen times,” Greg said across the coach from Bella and Prissa. He had insisted on escorting the two of them back to Chatham House and had whispered to Bella that he really should speak with her father before they visited St. George’s again the next day.
“Anxious,” she said.
“It’s just one more day, my dear,” he said.
And though she knew he was right, that feeling of dread had only increased ever since they’d spotted her cousin at the museum that afternoon.
The Avery coach rambled to a stop in front of Chatham House, and Greg alighted from the conveyance before a footman could even open the door. He helped Prissa to the ground and then offered his hand to Bella.
“It will be all right,” he said for her ears alone.
She met his green gaze and did find some solace there. So she nodded in agreement, wanting to believe his words.
“Just keep to your room and avoid that man at all costs.”
She nodded once more. Then she linked her arm with Prissa’s and the two of them climbed the front stoop with Greg right at their back.
Even before the butler opened the door, they could hear a furious argument from inside.
“Elliott?” Prissa glanced at Bella.
And, indeed, it did sound like their brother’s voice. “He must have finally returned home.”
Goodness, it was going to be a very long night.
The front door swung open, and with it the bellowing from inside Chatham House spilled out onto Berkeley Square, into the late afternoon air. Bella took a staggered breath and Greg placed his hand on the small of her back. “I’m right here,” he said softly.
And while his presence did bring her some peace, she was beyond embarrassed that he was witnessing any of this.
Just as the three of them crossed the threshold, Elliott’s voice clearly rang out from a nearby parlor. “…No! You never did. Not one day of my life! You let him belittle me. You let him belittle all of us.”
“Elliott,” Papa began, sounding more than tired. Heavens, he’d been under such duress for more than a day. “That tactic won’t work this time. I have spent my life trying to do the best for all of—”
“Bollocks!” Elliott screamed. “You’ve spent your life cowering from that bastard. Turing a blind eye to how he treats me for fear that he’ll turn his venom on you. You even let my mother run from here instead of being a man and protecting all of us as you should have.”
“So you want to blame me for your choices?” Papa bellowed back. “It’s my fault that you drink yourself into such a stupor your sisters don’t recognize you? My fault you’ve gambled away everything you have. My fault you’ve bedded every whore from—”
“It is your fault, you blind old fool. All of it. Open your goddamned eyes and look around. I have lived in constant terror my whole life. All of us have. Bella, Prissa. All of us. So do I drink to excess? Absolutely! Do I gamble and bed whores as often as I can?” A mirthless laugh drifted from the parlor. “Something has to dull the pain of being your son!”
Bella and Prissa gasped in unison.
“Get out!” Papa
’s voice rang loudly.
“You’re a spineless, impotent coward.”
“And do not ever come back, Elliott,” Papa continued, sounding a bit weaker than he had a moment before. “I am through defending you. I am through trying to protect you. I am—”
“Gladly.” Elliott stalked from the room into the corridor, but halted briefly when he spotted Bella, Greg and Prissa near the entryway. “There. I hope you’re both very happy now. I won’t be begging money from either of you anymore.”
“Oh, Elliott,” Prissa said softly, reaching a hand out to him.
But he paid her no attention as he increased his pace and brushed past them in his haste to escape Chatham House.
“Goodness,” Bella breathed out as her stomach twisted. Then she glanced up at Greg. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“I’m so sorry you had to live it.”
It wasn’t always as bad as Elliott made it sound, though there was more than a little truth in his accusations. Papa had never defended them as he should have, but Elliott couldn’t blame him for his own choices. That wasn’t fair.
Prissa started for the parlor and once inside, she gasped. “Oh, Papa! Are you all right?”
What in the world, now? Bella raced after her sister and found her father splayed across the settee. He was clutching his chest and seemed unable to catch his breath.
“Oh!” Bella raced toward the settee, dropping onto her knees once she reached Papa’s side. Please, God, let him be all right.
“A doctor!” Greg called loudly, somewhere behind them. “Send for a doctor right now! Alyesford is not well.”
“Papa.” Bella grasped her father’s hand and squeezed. “Take a deep breath. Doctor Watts will be here soon.”
But she wasn’t certain if he even heard her as his eyes didn’t seem to see her at all. His breathing came slower, and then his body seemed to go limp.
No, no, no. Papa couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t be. When Doctor Watts got there, he’d revive Papa and all would be fine. It had to be. Bella squeezed her father’s hand again, but he did not squeeze back.