“I need you to provide me with a small service,” the forger said, flashing his most engaging smile.
***
Nia was considerably relieved when her grandfather decided the portrait would be completed in the privacy of his studio at Stoneleigh Manor. Their daily visits to the Park would no longer be necessary, which suited Nia perfectly. The less contact she had with Lord Vincent the happier she would be. His high-handed assumption that he could play fast and loose with her feelings really was beyond belief. He had taken himself off to London to do…well, to do whatever it was that single men of independent means and dissipated dispositions did with themselves when they were in need of recreation. She was perfectly sure she did not require to know the particulars. His activities were of no interest to her.
Presumably he did not find what he sought since he had come back to the Park and seemed determined to amuse himself with her. In the interest of fairness, Nia was obliged to examine her own behaviour, and was left with the unsettling feeling that she had given him reason to suppose his attentions would be welcomed—expected even. He had now kissed her twice, and on both occasions she had not only failed to object but had actively participated. Her cheeks burned with mortification as she recalled just how enthusiastic that participation had actually been. He had caused the most exquisite shards of tingling exhilaration to vibrate through her body, making her yearn for that which she did not fully comprehend. Desire, she thought with a combination of regret and annoyance—she desired him and a man of his experience could not fail to recognise the signs.
Nia sighed. How she had ever supposed she could get the better of such a master of seduction, as had once been her intention, she could not begin to imagine. But Nia had learned her lesson and would not be tempted by him again. That temptation would be so much easier to resist if she was not exposed to his company on a daily basis. He had no occasion to call at Stoneleigh Manor, and if he did so she would simply make herself scarce.
She felt momentary guilt when she recalled that whatever else he had got up to, he had also done his best to uncover the identity of the forger while he had been in London. She was grateful to him, at least for that.
Sophia kept asking her if something was wrong. There was a feeling of great optimism at Stoneleigh Manor because although Sophia was the only person other than Nia to have seen the portrait so far, it was generally known that Grandpapa had produced something remarkable. And yet Nia was preoccupied and uncharacteristically short-tempered. The headache that her irascible mood had engendered worsened when she glanced out of the window and saw the twins dancing around Lord Vincent and Forrester. She groaned. What the devil was he doing here? Sophia joined her at the window, noticed Lord Vincent and sent Nia a quizzical look.
“I wonder what brings Lord Vincent calling,” Sophia said with a mischievous grin.
“I’m sure I have no idea, nor do I have the time to deal with him. I shall stay here with Grandpapa. You will have to go and see what he wants.”
“If you like, but I very much doubt if it is me he has come to see.”
“Please, Sophia.”
Sophia’s playfulness gave way to an expression of concern. “What is it, Nia? Has he done something to offend you?” Sophia straightened her shoulders. “If he has, he will not be allowed to get away with it.”
“He has not done anything.”
Nia threw herself into a chair, feeling as though she had the weight of the world resting upon her shoulders. Part of her wanted to run to Lord Vincent, throw herself into his arms and let him assume all her responsibilities. The constant struggle of day to day living, of protecting her grandfather’s reputation and keeping the household running smoothly on a shoestring, took its toll. In her current vulnerable state, she could not trust herself to go anywhere near the man whose face haunted her dreams. His commanding authority and annoyingly compelling charm robbed her of common sense and made her forget who she was supposed to be.
Sophia placed a reassuring hand on Nia’s shoulder, did not speak and took herself off to confront Lord Vincent. Nia resisted the temptation to watch them through the window and turned her attention to her grandfather.
By the following day, Nia’s headache still threatened, making her short-tempered with everyone in the house, especially Mr. Drake, who appeared to lie in wait for her whenever she ventured downstairs. He had not yet repeated his proposal, but she also knew he had not abandoned his ambitions.
“Luncheon is almost ready,” Hannah said, finding Nia on the terrace industriously weeding a flower border. “Have you seen the twins?”
“Not recently,” Nia replied. “I thought they were upstairs with Sean taking lessons.”
“No, lamb, Sean went into Compton a while back. You were busy avoiding Lord Vincent at the time so you would not have noticed.”
“I was not avoiding him!”
Hannah chuckled. “I expect the boys are in the woods somewhere with that dog, up to no good.”
Nia sighed. “I will go and look for them. I sincerely hope they are not trying to clear the pond of weed again. That will only ever end one way with those two.”
Nia plunged into the overgrown orchard, which was the quickest route to the pond, trying not to think about the occasion when she had sat there with Lord Vincent. She called alternately to the boys and then the dog. One or the other would answer her, sooner or later. When that did not happen she returned to the house, supposing them to have entered it from a difference direction. She was not unduly worried. The boys were always disappearing; finding ever more ingenious ways to avoid their lessons. Everyone was congregated in the dining room, awaiting Nia’s return, including Sean.
“Are they not here?” Nia asked. “I could not find them anywhere.”
“Odd,” Sean replied. “Their stomachs usually guide them back to the house at mealtimes. My sons are perpetually hungry.”
“We should start without them,” Mr. Drake said. “The food will get cold.”
“We will do no such thing,” Nia replied, niggling worries worming their way into her brain. “Anything might have happened to them. You may stay here and eat, if you wish to, Mr. Drake. The rest of us will conduct a methodical search.”
“Oh, of course I will help to search,” Mr. Drake replied. “Please do not think I lack compassion.”
Nia ignored him in favour of exchanging a glance with Sean. She could see her brother was becoming as worried as she was.
“Sophia, take something up to Grandpapa for his luncheon, if you wouldn’t mind, and remain with him. I don’t want him worried about this business. I dare say the boys will appear at any moment,” Nia said emphatically, wishing rather than believing it would be so. She had a bad feeling about the entire episode.
“I will certainly take his luncheon up,” Sophia replied. “But he is very much on form today. I am sure it will be safe to leave him alone for a while, at least until we have found the boys.”
Nia thought for a moment or two, guessing that Sophia was becoming as concerned as she was about the boys’ out of character behaviour. “Very well, if you are absolutely sure. The more of us there are to search, the quicker they will be found.”
Hannah hovered in the doorway with Annie and Beth while Sean efficiently allocated each person with a specific area of the grounds to search. She noticed that he took responsibility for the pond himself, presumably thinking that one or both of them had come to grief in their quest to clear it of weed, or while attempting to capture tadpoles. Nia did not think it could be so. She had already looked for them there but, admittedly, had not thought to look into the murky water itself. She shuddered, riddled with guilt for not having been more thorough, at the same time adjuring herself to remain calm. If they had tumbled into the pond then Ruff would have come back alone and would have led them straight back to the boys.
That thought only added to Nia’s worries as she commenced a careful search of the outer reaches of the wooded area, constantly calling the boys�
�� names. The only explanation she could come up with was that the boys had disobeyed Sean’s adamant instructions and left the grounds. After all, they had done it once before, which is when Lord Vincent came upon them. She knew from Sophia’s account of Lord Vincent’s earlier visit that the boys had been badgering him about the stud at the Park. They seemed to think it could not run without their assistance and were desperate to pay it another visit.
But that was more than three miles away. Surely they would not have…
Satisfied that neither boys nor dog were in her area of woodland, Nia returned to the house, now really anxious. She prayed someone else had had better luck; unsure whether she would hug the boys when they were finally found or strangle them for giving her such a fright. They really were the limit and had aged her ten years. A good school was a priority, she decided. Boredom, lack of structure in their young lives, was causing them to run increasingly wild. Another reason for her to feel guilty.
The ground floor was deserted. Nia was obviously the first searcher to return, which at least meant the others had not given up hope. She was about to go and check on her grandfather when Sean returned, his expression grim. He was clutching the jars and net the boys must have taken to the pond with them. She had not noticed them during her earlier, cursory search of the area.
“Dear God!” Nia covered her face with her hands and fell into a chair.
“Don’t distress yourself. They have definitely not fallen into the pond. I checked very carefully.”
“Thank goodness for that, at least.”
“Perhaps Ruff went off after rabbits or something, and they have chased after him. It would not be the first time.”
Nia shook her head. “If they were still in the grounds, they would have heard us calling for them. The land is not that extensive.”
“Do you think they might have taken it into their heads to go to Winchester Park?”
“That thought had occurred to me,” Nia replied. “But it is a long distance to cover on foot.”
Sean managed a mirthless smile. “Not when you are eight years old, with energy to burn and an obsession for horses. Besides, I think there is a shortcut through the woods.”
“And if there is, they would have found it.”
“Precisely.”
“Will you ride over there and check?”
“Yes, I think I should. You stay here and see if anyone finds them, Nia. I am still optimistic that they will, but I think it better if I don’t wait to find out. I would rather have a wasted journey than waste precious time.” Sean shook his head, his face taut with concern. “If they have had an accident, fallen somewhere, time could be of the essence.”
“Calm yourself,” Nia replied, hugging her brother. “What are the chances of both boys and the dog having an accident? One of them at least ought to be able to raise the alarm.”
Nia groaned when she saw the look on Sean’s face and realised she had only made matters worse. “Don’t despair, my dear,” she said hastily. “I’m sure there is a rational explanation. I dare say they have wandered too far and lost track of time; nothing more sinister than that.”
Sean gave her a look that told her he didn’t believe a word of it. “Yes, I expected that’s all it is,” he said, touching her shoulder.
“Go to Winchester Park.” Nia bit her lip to stop herself from crying. “But go through Compton first. They might have taken it upon themselves to have another confrontation with the local boys.”
Sean’s smile did not reach his eyes. “This time I will definitely make good on my numerous threats and thrash my sons for their disobedience.”
Nia managed a brief smile. “Of course you will.”
She waved Sean away, took a moment to compose herself, and then slipped up the stairs to check on her grandfather.
“Grandpapa, I am so sorry to have left you alone,” Nia said brightly as she entered his studio. “Is there anything you…oh my goodness!”
He was in his chair looking disorientated, blinking vacantly, and a bruise was forming on the side of his head.
“What happened, Grandpapa?” She crouched beside him and took his hand. “Did you have a fall?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. A movement in the periphery of her vision caused Nia to glance up. She had not realised someone else was in his studio, adjacent to his sitting room. Annie stared at Nia through widened eyes as she stood over Grandpapa’s portrait of the duke with a dagger raised above her shoulder, on the point of plunging it into the canvas.
***
It was not difficult for the forger to enter Stoneleigh Manor’s grounds. He approached them from the edge of the woodland that skirted the Winchester Road and made his way through a track in the woods. Annie’s directions had been spot on in that respect. Hiding the curricle in which he planned to make his getaway was more difficult. He eventually found a place on the other side of the track that did not form a part of the Manor’s grounds. It was further away than he would have liked, but that couldn’t be helped. The important factor was that although the area where he planned to take the boys would be searched eventually, no one would think to do so until he was long gone.
Annie had assured him the boys would make their way to the pond the moment they were released from their lessons, and that is where the forger concealed himself. He was infuriated when he heard voices coming from the terrace and realised one of them belonged to Lord Vincent. What business did he have here? He crept closer, concealed himself behind a stout tree, and watched, cursing the interfering cove for taking such an avid interest in Miss Trafford’s affairs.
The boys were jumping all over him, begging to be allowed to visit the stud at Winchester Park. The forger seethed. If that request was granted then the forger’s plans would have to be put back a day. With every day that passed, Trafford made progress on the duke’s portrait, making its destruction that much harder to orchestrate. Even so, he had no option other than to wait and hope. Passivity did not sit well with the forger—he was a man of action—but he owed his success to patience every bit as much as he did to his own astuteness. In the end that trait was rewarded when Sheridan took his leave and the boys dragged themselves into the house with obvious reluctance, presumably for their lessons.
An hour later they came bounding down the path towards the pond, nets and jars in their hands—the tools of tadpoling. That damned dog of theirs was dancing around their feet, barking with excitement. The forger had forgotten about the beast, but would not permit it to interfere with his plans. He pulled his hat low and a muffler high enough to cover his nose and mouth, so that only his eyes were visible. The boys knew him but would not be able to recognise him, even if they did manage to get a look at him before he incapacitated them. He waited until both boys were leaning over the pond, flat on their bellies, bickering about the best way to catch tadpoles.
“You get the net ready, Art. I’ve got the jar.”
“No, I’ll do the net. I’m better at it.”
“All right then, but hurry. You’re frightening them.”
“You can’t frighten tadpoles…”
No, the forger thought, smirking, but small boys were altogether a different matter.
He would never get a better opportunity: the boys were totally focused on the tadpoles and the dog had disappeared into the trees. He crept forward and pounced, placing a hand on the back of each of their necks and holding their heads beneath the water before they could react to his presence. This was the delicate part. He didn’t wish to kill them; merely to render them unconscious so he could gag and blindfold them and get them away from Stoneleigh Manor.
The ultimate diversion.
He was obliged to let them up sooner than he had planned when something sharp sent a shooting pain through his backside. Damnation, the blasted dog had returned and bitten his buttock! The boys spluttered as their heads broke the surface of the rank water, weed and pond debris adhering to their hair and clothing. Before they co
uld recover or catch a glimpse of him, the forger knocked their heads together with enough force to render them insensible. Then, kicking at the dog until he connected with its ribs and made it yelp, forcing it to crawl away from him, he blindfolded and gagged the twins.
Then he threw one boy over each shoulder and traipsed back to his hiding place.
Chapter Seventeen
Vince resisted the urge to call at Stoneleigh Manor again. He had no legitimate reason to do so, other than an overwhelming desire to see Nia. But, by failing to receive him in person the previous day, she had made it perfectly clear that her feelings did not mirror his own. He had stretched out his visit to the point of rudeness, hoping she would appear. He tried not to react each time he heard a light tread on the boarded floor immediately outside the drawing room door where he was received by Sophia Ash. Surely she would come eventually.
But Nia did not appear. Sophia implied she could not be spared from her grandfather’s studio, but Vince suspected that was untrue.
Facts needed to be faced. Nia was deliberately avoiding him.
Unused to being shunned by members of either sex, Vince struggled to understand why she felt the need to distance herself from him. Surely she understood his only desire was to be of service to her? Well, that was not precisely true. From Vince’s perspective, Nia Trafford’s name and ‘desire’ were words better not used in the same sentence. His behaviour had probably been inappropriate and he had frightened her off.
No probably about it, he decided, grimacing. Whenever they were together, her strong sense of duty warred with unconventional appetites she had been unaware she possessed—until Vince entered her life and brought them enthusiastically to life. Beneath his tutelage, she was allowing instinct to overcome her strong sense of duty: a situation which would not sit well with her because she was so determined to put her grandfather’s interests ahead of her own. When he was not there to distract her and she was at leisure to examine her behaviour she had undoubtedly come to that conclusion for herself.
Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke Page 21