She glared at him. “That is very easy for you to say. You have money and a privileged position from which to fight your battles.”
“If you think I was making light of your difficulties, then you quite mistake the matter.” He took her hand, gently forced her clenched fingers apart and linked his own through them. Goodness knows what madness drove him to do it; he just didn’t seem able to help himself. Miss Trafford appeared momentarily surprised, but did not attempt to remove her hand. It was rather grubby since she had not worn gloves while gardening. “But there is more, I think. You already know about the forgeries, so this latest one could not have come as that much of a surprise.”
“Yes, there is more.” She paused again, and then, with a reckless shrug she started to speak, their hands still entwined. “Twenty years ago, when Grandpapa was at the height of his fame and Sophia was at the height of her beauty, he did a series of sketches and paintings of her au natural. They are some of his very best work, but we are, as you can tell from our living conditions, exceedingly pressed. Sophia keeps saying we ought to sell some of the sketches. What we could ask for them would set us up for years, but I couldn’t bear to do it, and kept putting it off. Now we have no choice. It is either that or Grandmama’s jewellery, and that is locked away for the boys’ wives.”
“What about you?”
She laughed. “What need do I have of jewels?”
Vince was filled with an urgent desire to prove what pleasure they could give by bestowing emeralds upon her. Only emeralds would so suit her Irish heritage, her colouring; everything about her screamed emeralds.
“If you have made the reluctant decision to sell the sketches, will you give my family first refusal?”
“We would with pleasure, but unfortunately they are missing.” He could see her struggling not to burst into tears again. “Sophia can’t find them anywhere.”
No wonder she was so upset. She had a nest egg to fall back on; a failsafe for a rainy day that had turned into a torrential downpour. But the nest egg was gone.
“You suspect one of your current charity cases? Miss Tilling or the poet?”
“We can’t be sure if they were taken from here; that is our difficulty. Sophia is certain she has not looked at them since we moved.” She spread her hands. “They could have gone months ago. With all the upheaval in our lives, we would not…obviously did not, notice.”
“Perhaps the forger has them.”
“Yes, perhaps. It would make me feel better, a very little better, if we only have one devious ne’er-do-well in our ranks.”
“Forgive the bluntness of the question, Miss Trafford, but why is your family in such a dire financial situation? I should have thought the money your grandfather made at the height of his fame would have been sufficient to see you set fair for generations.”
Her responding laugh was bitter. “If you had known my mother and father you would not have asked that question. My grandfather has always had a philanthropic attitude, it is true. He is generosity itself and is always willing to lend a hand to those with talent, encouraging them to exploit their creativeness, just as he himself was helped when he was starting out.” She sighed. “And look where that has landed him. But that in itself would have made little impression upon his fortune.”
“Even so, I—”
“Grandpapa threw wild parties, inviting anyone and everyone from the art world. That is how Papa met my mother. She was as beautiful as she was wilful and I’m told he was captivated from the first.”
“Go on,” Vince encouraged when she lapsed into momentary silence.
“I hate to speak ill of the dead, but there can be no denying that they went through Grandpapa’s money quicker than Ned could hope to eat that lawn for me. Mama demanded the best of everything, you see; she considered it her birth right.”
“She was from a good family?”
Miss Trafford chuckled. “She was beautiful. Isn’t that enough?”
“I have known ladies of that persuasion.”
“I am sure you have.” Miss Trafford’s lips quirked, but she quickly sobered again. “Extravagance was Mama’s byword, and Papa never could refuse her anything. As Grandpapa’s manager, he had complete control of his funds because, naturally, Grandpapa trusted his only son to have his best interests at heart.” She managed another brief smile. “Even I must acknowledge that Grandpapa is not very practical about monetary matters. If he has funds he spends them and trusts those close to him to deal with investments, and so forth. Unfortunately, not only did Papa badly mismanage those funds, but he also utilised them to keep up with Mama’s extravagant demands.”
“I am sorry,” Vince replied softly. “My father was an excellent man, and you have seen for yourself just how charming and caring my mother is. We were obviously very fortunate, and never wanted for parental attention.” Vince pulled a wry face. “We still do not. But, from what you tell me, it seems your parents paid little attention to you and your brother. That must have been very hard for you.”
“It would have been, if not for Grandpapa and Sophia.” This time her smile was wide and sincere. “They have been better parents to me than my own ever were. We have had the most wonderful times, and I have never felt anything other than loved and cherished. Sean’s wife, the twins’ mother, on the other hand, was cut from similar cloth to Mama. She was the daughter of one of my mother’s society friends and Mama introduced her to Sean. I don’t think Sean ever loved her, and regretted his decision to marry her very soon after he did so. He was young at the time, and I think he appreciated Mama finally taking an interest in him. He was swept along by Mama’s determination that they should marry, and by his future wife’s flattery. But once they were actually married, her behaviour changed overnight and she became a mirror image of Mama. I hate to say this, but the twins are better off without her. She ignored them completely, and now they almost never ask after her. Sean, on the other hand, has always been an attentive father.”
“And, in you, the boys have an equally attentive aunt.”
“I hope so. I try very hard to ensure that they don’t go without love and affection.”
“The male members of your family have a destructive streak?” Vince had seen several similar examples amongst his aristocratic friends. Sons inherited valuable estates and promptly lost the fortunes their ancestors had built—either through mismanagement, inefficiency or, more often than not, at the gaming tables.
“Grandpapa does not. My grandmother died before I was born, but I know she was a kind, sensible woman whom he loved very much. All I can remember is Grandpapa and Sophia being together. Sophia has never pretended to be anything she is not and because of Grandpapa’s fame she has been accepted everywhere. And so she should be. Sophia is ten times the woman my own, supposedly respectable, mother ever was.” Miss Trafford jutted her chin defiantly. “And I would give an argument to anyone who tried to say otherwise.”
Vince raised his hands in mock surrender, glad to see her eyes now glistened with loyal determination rather than tears. “I have not met your Sophia, but I become more curious about her by the second. I hope you will introduce me.”
“Most certainly, if you like.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I definitely like.”
She fixed him with a considering look. “I still fail to understand why you are taking such a prodigious interest in my family, Lord Vincent.”
Vince didn’t know how to answer her because he scarcely understood it himself. “Quite apart from the pleasure of your company, and an overwhelming desire to see you smile,” he replied with a provocative look that made her blush, “I also have a great curiosity to see your grandfather’s landscapes.”
She punched his arm. “Ah, so you seek to exploit Grandpapa also?”
“Not a bit of it. In fact, I intend to make myself useful and discover the identity of your forger.”
“Why? How?” She shook her head. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”
&
nbsp; “Have you become so accustomed to people wanting something from you, that you cannot accept there are still those who wish to be of service to you, without ulterior motives?”
She gave another bemused, shake of her head. “Seemingly so.”
She appeared overcome with emotion and fresh tears brimmed. One slid down her cheek and Vince reached forward to arrest its progress with his forefinger.
“Shush, don’t cry,” he said softly, delicately tracing the curve of her face with the tips of his fingers. “Everything will be all right.”
“No, it will not.” She shook her head. “Unless you can give my grandfather his senses back, then things will never be the same again.”
“Your grandfather has lived a long and productive life and the magnificent works of art he leaves behind will give pleasure to generations to come. Not many people are fortunate enough to possess the skill to leave such a legacy.”
“No.” Her sigh was deep and heartfelt. “There is that, I suppose.”
“He deserves to enjoy his retirement, and if you will permit me to interfere, I shall help to ensure that comes about.” He lowered his voice to a seductive purr. “Nothing remains the same forever, Nia, much as you might wish for it to do so.”
She nodded, making no objection to his use of her name. “Yes, I do understand, but…”
Her words stalled and the tears fell again in earnest. Unable to help himself, Vince leaned forward, cupped the back of her head with the splayed fingers of one hand and briefly covered her lips with his own. Her gurgle of protest lacked conviction, but before Vince could do anything to convince her she really didn’t want to protest at all, a voice calling Nia’s name had them pulling apart. Then Ruff came hurling down the path, wagging his stubby tail as he jumped adroitly into Nia’s lap.
“That is Sean’s voice,” she told him, looking flushed, bright-eyed and confused all at the same time. “Over here,” she called back.
Chapter Ten
Nia ought to have been grateful for an interruption that saved her from making an almighty fool of herself. Instead, she felt oddly disgruntled by it. She was unsure what that said about her turpitude and did not waste time pondering upon her morality—or lack thereof. She was perfectly sure Lord Vincent had been about to kiss her, and that he would have done a very thorough job of it. Since his lordship appeared to do everything with self-assured competence, bordering on arrogance, she was equally sure she would have found the experience both instructive and enjoyable.
She felt a deep gravitational pull towards him that robbed her of the ability to think rationally. At the same time, she was quite out of charity with Lord Vincent for allowing the situation to develop. It was all his fault. He was the one with experience and should not have exploited her momentary weakness.
Except he hadn’t exploited it precisely. Curiosity and a deep awareness of his disturbingly poised masculinity had heightened her perceptions, awakening dormant feelings buried deep inside of her. Feelings that made her yearn for pleasures she had only previously experienced vicariously through informative and revealing discussions enjoyed with Sophia.
Put simply, he was toying with her for his own amusement. A flash of anger pushed aside her momentary inertia and, thankfully, common sense was restored to her. She took calm stock of the situation, mentally cataloguing all the reasons why Lord Vincent could only have been entertaining himself. Quite apart from the differences in their situations in life, she was wearing clothing that most of his servants would look down their collective noses at, whereas he was impeccably attired in a superbly cut coat and yet another pair of tight-fitting buckskin inexpressibles. An aroma of sandalwood soap, horseflesh and fresh, clean air clung to him. Her hands and face were dirty, her hair a wild tangle and even when she was dressed to impress, she was hardly a raving beauty.
Lord Vincent, she suspected, could take his pick from the finest young ladies in the top echelons of society. And yet that did not seem to be enough for him and he conceitedly assumed that anything or anyone who happened to engage his interest was his for the taking. She was living on his doorstep and he could not resist the opportunity to hone his seductive skills.
Nia understood his game now, and would not be caught unawares for a second time. She threw back her shoulders, straightened her gown, and treated him to her best assault glare. Unfortunately it bounced harmlessly off his amused expression.
“I am glad to see you looking more in control of yourself,” he said, his lips curving into a glamorous smile.
Before she could formulate a pithy retort, Sean strode into the clearing.
“I say, Nia…”
Nia stood, tipping Ruff off her lap, and took Sean’s arm, glad for an opportunity to avoid Lord Vincent’s all-seeing gaze. “Sean, may I introduce you to our neighbour, Lord Vincent Sheridan. Lord Vincent, this is my brother, Sean Trafford.”
The gentlemen sized one another up as they shook hands. She didn’t know if Sophia had had an opportunity to tell Sean about Lord Vincent and the interest he had taken in their family, and she herself had forgotten to do so.
“Trafford,” Lord Vincent said amiably.
“Your servant, Lord Vincent.”
Nia released a breath she had not been conscious of holding when Sean appeared to like what he saw in their neighbour and replied with affable deference. She would not allow Lord Vincent to seduce her, if that had been his intention, but he had mentioned something about helping them and so she needed to cultivate his good opinion. Nia was no longer in a position to stand on pride and refuse any genuine offers of assistance that came her way, especially when they emanated from such an influential source. That was why she most particularly did not require posturing from either of them, and was well aware that even her good-natured brother was capable of becoming overly protective where she was concerned.
They exchanged a few more words, and Nia allowed her mind to wander. Now that she had convinced herself she would not have allowed it to happen, she thought about the almost-kiss she had shared with Lord Vincent and the most extraordinary effect it had had upon her. A deeply disturbing jolt rocked her body and she had felt hot all over as glorious sensation threatened, only to dissipate when Sean interrupted them, leaving her feeling empty, disgruntled and unfulfilled.
Desire, she thought absently. She actually desired him and chided herself for having such a ridiculous reaction to a harmless kiss. Not that anything about Lord Vincent was harmless, precisely. Beneath all that strength and sophistication, there was an element of danger that, annoyingly, added to his allure. Sophia had told her often enough that dangerous and powerful men made wonderful protectors. Nia bit her lip to hold back a smile. Sophia was in a good position to know.
Would Lord Vincent really have overstepped the boundaries, here in the open air where anyone might have come upon them at any time? The most decisive person she knew, Nia’s thoughts were currently in a hopelessly contradictory tangle. Two minutes ago she had decided his intention was definitely seduction. Now she was convinced he was merely being gentlemanly—well, sort of—in offering to help her family. She had been upset and he had comforted her in a manner that would come naturally to a man of his ilk. Thanks to Sophia, Nia knew all about men’s desires and impulses. In theory, anyway. The opportunity to gain some practical experience had slipped away, and she told herself that was just as well.
“I came looking for you to let you know Lady St. John is here,” Sean said.
“Oh, how nice. She did say she would call today. We were about to return to the house anyway. Lord Vincent has offered to discover the identity of the forger for us.”
Sean frowned. “You told him about that?”
Nia shrugged. “He caught me at a weak moment.”
“You can be assured of my discretion, Trafford,” Lord Vincent said as they made their way back through the trees together. “I was about to ask your sister to introduce us so that I could discuss the matter with you and make a few suggestions.”
Sean nodded his approval, appearing to overcome his objections to Lord Vincent’s interference with remarkable speed. It was already evident to Nia that once Lord Vincent set his mind upon a particular course of action, charm, authority and determination ensured that no one stood in his way.
“My sons have been talking non-stop about their visit to your stud, Lord Vincent. I must say, it was very kind of you to take an interest in them.”
“They are fine boys. You ought to be proud.”
“Oh, believe me, I am.”
When they reached the house, Frankie and Sophia were seated in the drawing room, such as it was, chatting amiably as they sipped at tea from mismatched cups. Frankie stood and hugged Nia when she entered the room. If she was surprised to see Lord Vincent it did not show in her manner and she greeted him with easy friendliness.
Nia disengaged from Frankie’s embrace and cleared her throat. “Lord Vincent, may I present Miss Sophia Ash.”
“Miss Ash.” Lord Vincent sent her an engaging smile as he took her hand and raised her from her curtsey. “It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And I yours, my lord.”
Sophia had not forgotten how to deploy the feminine wiles that had helped her rise to the top of her profession. Her own smile was soft, sultry and just a little wicked. Lord Vincent appeared captivated by it since he held her hand for far longer than politeness dictated. Jealousy tied Nia’s insides into a vicious knot, which infuriated her. She had no reason to be jealous of Sophia. Lord Vincent was nothing to her. Besides, Sophia meant nothing by her flirtatiousness. It was just her manner.
Sophia finally resumed her seat, sending Nia an approving nod as she did so. God in heaven, what was going through that calculating brain of hers now? Hannah appeared with more tea. With a wink at Nia, she closed the door as she left them, presumably to discourage Mr. Drake or Miss Tilling from inflicting themselves upon them. Nia didn’t doubt that they were both lurking close by, keen to know what was transpiring.
Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke Page 12