Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke

by Wendy Soliman

“Quite so.” Lady St. John stood. “There is merit in your suggestion, Lord Vincent, but it requires a deal of thought and Nia Trafford’s approbation.”

  “Naturally. It was mere speculation on my part.”

  “Please excuse me, Your Grace.” She bobbed a curtsey for the duchess and repeated the gesture for Zach. “Time is getting on and I have things to do.”

  “Of course.”

  It was Zach who answered her as he rang the bell for Faraday to show her out. Vince was aware that their mother lived in hope of Zach and Lady St. John forming an alliance. Frankie St. John was beautiful, intelligent and, most importantly of all, not overwhelmed by Zach’s position as a duke. She gave as good as she got in their frequent bouts of verbal sparring and showed no particular ambition to become a duchess which, in Vince’s view, was the surest way to make it happen. Either she was very artful, or really did have no desire to improve her social standing. Vince could see his brother was attracted to her but he had never once given voice to his intentions, and Vince would never ask.

  ***

  “Can we really go, Aunt Nia?”

  “Will we be able to ride any of the horses, do you suppose?”

  “Forrester is a jolly fine beast.”

  “I expect they have lots more like that, Leo.”

  “I dare say there are lots of things we could do to help out.”

  “I shall come and bear you company,” Miss Tilling said with alacrity.

  “The invitation was not extended to include you,” Nia said with scant regard for civility. The events of the day had left her with a headache and she had even less patience than usual with her grandfather’s lame ducks.

  “Oh, I am sure that doesn’t signify.”

  “I am equally sure that it does. If you wish to be of help, you can offer your services to Hannah. There is plenty to be done here in the house.”

  “I think it would be better if I took the boys,” Mr. Drake said portentously. Since he made little effort to disguise the fact that the boys irritated him intensely, Nia assumed he was…well, assuming too much responsibility for her—again. The image of Mr. Drake as her protector was almost enough to make her smile. “You know nothing of these people, my dear, and might feel overwhelmed in such august company. I, on the other hand, have had a great deal of exposure to good society. Indeed, when I read some of my verse in Lady Effingham’s salon last summer, my audience was quite overcome.”

  Of all the patronising, egotistical, controlling…

  “Probably with a collective case of boredom,” Sophia whispered in Nia’s ear, loud enough for the entire table to hear her, making Nia smile through her irritation.

  “Your desire to be of service is as unexpected as it is welcome,” Nia said with asperity. “However, I do not need anyone’s help to drive the gig a few miles. When I do need something done, on the other hand, you all appear to be fully occupied.”

  “You should accept offers of assistance when they are forthcoming,” Miss Tilling said, waving her fork rudely in the air. “Those of us with artistic souls cannot put our creativeness to one side simply to oblige you; not when the muse is upon us.”

  “Let us hope the muse strikes tomorrow then,” Sophia muttered.

  Nia patted the older lady’s hand, aware she was the only person beneath this roof whom she could take to Winchester Park and not be ashamed of. Paradoxically, she could not possibly ask them to receive her. She sighed. Society’s mores were guaranteed to make her headache worse.

  “You will all be better off remaining here and continuing with…well, with whatever it is you do all day,” Nia said.

  Her grandfather sat at the head of the table, looking dazed and confused, his luncheon barely touched. Even Sophia’s gentle coaxing failed to have its usual beneficial effect. Grandpapa’s earlier exuberant mood had changed in the blink of an eye and he had now retreated to a place where she could not reach him. It broke her heart to see him that way, but she could no longer deny the episodes of distraction, unawareness—call them what you will—were becoming more frequent and prolonged. Soon, they would have to give up the pretence all together. It filled her with fury that, in part due to his own trusting nature, her beloved grandfather could not already enjoy a luxurious retirement.

  His near catatonic state killed what little appetite Nia had, and she placed her knife and fork aside.

  “Come along, Grandpapa,” she said, standing and kissing his brow. “Why do we not sit outside in the sunshine for a little while? You would enjoy that, I’m sure.”

  Her grandfather stood and shuffled from the room with her, more compliant than the boys when they were on their best behaviour because they wanted something. She steered him towards a stone bench on the terrace, now bathed in afternoon sunlight. The two of them sat side by side, Nia firmly grasping her grandfather’s wrinkled hand. A hand that had created such beautiful works of art, but which now struggled to grasp a brush. When it did so, there was no telling what the result would be. Sometimes he produced something extraordinary—images conjured from the vast recesses of the functioning parts of his brain that took her breath away. At others, his efforts looked like something Leo or Art might have produced.

  Nia stared at the wild jungle of a garden, the sweet fragrance of wild honeysuckle competing with the heady perfume of early-blooming rambling roses and rhododendrons. She tried not to think about the tall, compelling gentleman who had stood in that very spot less than an hour previously. A gentleman whose image she had not been able to dispel from her brain, in spite of the fact that she had no time for daydreaming. Ruff and the boys spilled from the dining room and tumbled onto the long grass—boys and dog tangled together as they tussled with one another. Nia was about to warn them not to tear their clothes or reopen the cut on Leo’s leg, but closed her mouth again, knowing better than to waste her breath. She watched them with a combination of anxiety and envy, trying to remember when her life had last been so carefree.

  Hannah, faithful, loyal Hannah, stepped quietly onto the terrace and sat on Nia’s opposite side.

  “Don’t let it upset you, lamb,” she said, nodding towards her grandfather, now dozing upright in the sunshine. “He’s had a long, successful life, and wherever his mind takes him off to nowadays, it’s a damned sight better for him than reality, that’s for sure.”

  “I know.” Nia sighed. “But that doesn’t help us much, does it?”

  “Perhaps your brother will return with good news.”

  “Perhaps,” Nia replied, with more hope than conviction in her tone.

  “We need to start making changes,” Hannah said, as though Nia didn’t already know that perfectly well. “Issuing Drake and Miss Tilling with their marching orders would be a good place to start.”

  “Don’t you think I would, if I could? They have nowhere else to go, and no means of supporting themselves. If they tell what they know about Grandpapa, out of spite, necessity, or for whatever reason, we really will be finished.”

  “And they know it, the ungrateful wretches. That’s why they continue to live off us like the parasites they are.” Hannah pursed her lips. “Well, if they are to stay, they must start pulling their weight.”

  Nia stifled a giggle. “I find it hard to imagine Miss Tilling scrubbing floors or peeling vegetables.”

  “You do all of those things. Why should not she?” Hannah scowled. “Anyway, I am sure I can find her other occupations that will not be beneath her dignity.”

  “If you suggest it, you can be sure the muse will come upon her and she will be filled with an urgent desire to finish her dreadful paintings.”

  Hannah sniffed. “At least that will keep her from under my feet. She is deliberately dragging out their completion because she will have no excuse to remain with us when they are done.”

  Nia smiled. “What about her grand exhibition we hear endless talk about?”

  “Bah, you know as well as I do that even if she manages to make the arrangements, no one will attend it.
And if they do, who in their right minds will purchase her canvases?”

  “Which is why she wants her paintings added to Grandpapa’s exhibition of landscapes.” Nia pulled a face. “She is depending upon Grandpapa’s patronage to make a name for herself. As his protégé, people might buy anyway because they will assume Grandpapa has recognised a budding talent.”

  Hannah blew air through her lips. “Dicked in the nob, they would be, to think that.”

  “People, especially those with money to burn, are terrified of not seeing the latest fashion so can be easily led.”

  “Not that easily.”

  Nia shrugged. “Don’t be downhearted, Hannah. I know I take the most dreadful advantage of you, but you must know how much I appreciate your loyalty. Not many people would be good natured enough to endure my family, but you have stuck by us through thick and thin and I don’t know how I would manage without you.”

  “Go on with you, lamb.” Hannah wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Where else do I belong?”

  “At least we have Sophia to ease our burden.”

  Nia managed a brief smile at the thought of the brazen, kind-hearted, outspoken and often deliberately provocative courtesan who had been her grandfather’s mistress for Nia’s entire life. She had been between protectors, Grandpapa at the height of his fame, when he first saw her in Paris. He became fixated on her, the two of them hit it off immediately, and had been together ever since. At first Sophia had been his paramour, his hostess and his muse, keeping him entertained, his mind focused on his work, and the hangers-on who gravitated towards Grandpapa at arm’s length. When Grandpapa’s mind became fragile, Nia was terrified that Sophia would up sticks and leave him. It would have broken her grandfather’s heart to see her go: and Nia’s.

  She should have credited Sophia with more loyalty. Far from leaving them, she adapted to their changed circumstances, knuckled down and had remained a constant source of support to Nia throughout the travails of the past few years. She now acted as Grandpapa’s nurse, companion and best friend. In his more lucid moments, he appeared to remember who she was and Nia was sure that made a great deal of difference to his wellbeing.

  “Aye, true enough,” Hannah replied. “I can’t say I approved much when she first took up with your grandfather, but she’s proved her loyalty more times than enough.”

  “That she has, and she has been a good friend to me.”

  Nia sighed and rested her head on the plump shoulder of the woman who had been more of a mother to her than her own ever had. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she made no effort to check them. If she could not give free rein to her emotions when in Hannah’s company, then when could she?

  “Will you be all right if I take the boys to Winchester Park in the morning?” she asked when she regained her composure. “They are so looking forward to going.”

  Hannah fixed Nia with a probing look. “And you are not?”

  “Oh, Hannah, I know what you’re thinking, but you are quite wrong. I came here because…well, you know why. We were desperate, the rent was cheap and this place is hidden away. I had hoped to stay hidden a little longer, although I admit I was looking forward to enjoying my friend Frankie St. John’s society.” Nia expelled a long breath. “I suppose I was naïve to imagine word of Grandpapa’s presence here would not leak out, but still, I did not expect it to happen quite so soon.”

  “I was watching Lord Vincent from inside. He didn’t seem critical of your grandfather, and bear in mind he saw him at his worst.”

  “He is a gentleman. He wouldn’t allow his true feelings to show, but I can easily imagine what he must have been thinking. He probably couldn’t wait to get away from us all.”

  “And yet he invited you to his home. He wouldn’t have done that if he felt you were beneath him.”

  Nia squared her shoulders. “Who said anything about being beneath him?”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Nia caught sight of Hannah’s satisfied expression and wagged a finger at her. “You said that deliberately, just to provoke me.”

  “Someone needs to remind you that you have nothing to apologise for.”

  “I think his lordship took a shine to the boys. It would be hard not to when the devil gets into them although, I suppose, I am biased in that regard. Anyway, they want to see the horses, were not afraid to say so, and so Lord Vincent could hardly invite them and not me.”

  “Ah, I see.” Hannah smiled broadly. “That’s what it must be.”

  Nia tossed her head. “You don’t see anything at all.”

  The boys were scrambling up an old oak tree, causing the branches to wobble as they played a game that appeared to involve dislodging one another. Ruff scrabbled at the trunk and barked encouragement. Nia opened her mouth to warn them of the dangers but Hannah patted her hand.

  “Let them be. It’s a soft landing if they do fall, and expending all that energy will wear them out. We won’t have the usual tussle getting them to bed tonight.”

  “They have had no lessons today,” Nia said, feeling guilty. “Once again the morning got away from me. I really must talk to Sean about employing a full time tutor for his sons when he returns, before they run completely wild. We can surely find the money for that?”

  “Mr. Drake is always offering—”

  “Not on your life.” Nia shook her head emphatically. “I have yet to hear him utter two sensible sentences in succession. He does not like children, I find him pompous and disagreeable, and have no intention of becoming beholden to him.”

  “No, you’re right about that, insufferable little man. I wasn’t thinking straight for a moment there.”

  “Perhaps Sean will finally agree to sell one of Grandmama’s necklaces.” Nia was referring to the jewellery owned by her grandmother that had passed to Sean’s wife. “Any one of them would raise enough money to pay a tutor’s salary.”

  “Your brother won’t hear of it. He insists the jewellery is family heirlooms and will be passed on to the boy’s wives.”

  “My brother must face reality.” Nia sighed. “We do not have any heirlooms in this family. Grandpapa bought that jewellery when he first became famous. There is no sentimentality or family history attached to it.”

  Hannah shook her head. “You will have the devil’s own job convincing him of that. You know how he lives all the time with his head in the clouds.”

  “Yes, indeed I do, but when has lived here for a few days—” Nia once again was reduced to sighing. “We have never resided anywhere quite so ramshackle before. Perhaps it will finally make him see reason.”

  Hannah sniffed. “And perhaps the moon is made of cheese.”

  Nia smiled. “Are you coping all right in the house with just Annie and Beth for help? We were so very fortunate to find those girls while we were still in Brussels.” Sir Edward Fairstock, the Englishman they had worked for had died unexpectedly. Lady Fairstock had no further need of their services, leaving them stranded and without employment. Nia could not recall how they were brought to her notice: she was simply very glad that had been the case. “They are grateful to have regular work and know better than to gossip about the family when they go into the village.”

  “They are good girls, although Annie can sometimes be a little lazy. But I haven’t lost sight of the fact that I have you as well, my love. You’re always doing things to help me that ought not to fall to your lot.”

  “I wish we could employ more servants locally.” Nia expelled another of her seemingly endless supply of sighs. She justified it by reminding herself she had a great deal to sigh about. “But I can’t take the chance of gossip spreading about our circumstances. Goodness only knows what we are going to do about these gardens. They are already a jungle and it’s still only spring.”

  “We could furnish Mr. Drake with a scythe and set him to work.”

  Nia choked on a bark of laughter. “Now that I would very much like to see.”

  “One thing at a time,
dear,” Hannah said, her own laughter fading as she hauled herself to her feet. “For once, think about yourself. Decide what to wear for your engagement tomorrow. How about the rose pink sprigged muslin?”

  “Hannah, that’s far too smart.”

  “You are likely to meet a duchess.”

  “Oh lord, so I am. Well, all right then. I suppose it is a while since I had occasion to wear anything so pretty.”

  Hannah grinned, causing Nia to suspect she had somehow played into her capable hands. Again. “Right, and you could scrub your nails to remove all that paint, if you have a mind to make a favourable impression.”

  “I am not trying to make an impression.”

  “No, lamb, of course you’re not.” She offered Nia a gap-toothed grin. “Come on. Let’s get your grandfather inside.”

  Chapter Four

  “Don’t worry, love,” Sophia said the following morning as she insisted upon dressing Nia’s hair. “Your grandpapa’s having a good day today. He won’t even notice you are gone.”

  “Let us hope not. There’s no rhyme or reason to his actions,” Nia replied, sighing. “Last night, when I sat with him, he kept mistaking me for Morag. I did not have the heart to tell him Grandmama has been dead these twenty-five years.”

  “It is heart-breaking to see him the way he is now, but I figure it’s us as suffer, not him. Wherever he goes to inside his head, he’s happy for the most part.”

  “I sometimes think it’s like having a third child in the house. I want to give that child back and demand the return of my lovely, vibrant grandfather.”

  “He’s better behaved than those boys, that’s for sure,” Sophia said, chuckling as she did something clever with the heavy sweep of Nia’s hair, deploying pins that actually looked as though they might keep it in place.

  “I can reason with the boys,” Nia pointed out with a sad little shake of her head. “Well, sometimes.”

  “Your grandfather can still produce inspired work, which is why we are here, of course. I took a peep in the studio and see he made good progress on his latest landscape last night. We won’t need to throw this one out.”