Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady

by Diane Gaston

  This day, after she finished the sitting, she stood back and surveyed the painting.

  ‘It is lovely, Jack…’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘But?’ He spoke the word more as an accusation than a question.

  ‘You know what I think.’ She hated to go over this again. ‘It lacks emotion.’

  He made a frustrated gesture. ‘I am painting what I see.’

  His observation was acute. The canvas was mostly white, as if Cleopatra sat in a room of white marble, but the white had subtle shades of colour in the shadows, in the hieroglyphics, in the other details of the room and her clothing. Cleopatra herself blazed with colour. Her skin. Her hair. Her eyes, outlined in black. The gold around her neck sparkled, and, although there was only a peek of red cushions on the piece of Egyptian furniture upon which she lounged, the colour echoed the red of her lips.

  She had no doubt this all took great skill, but what made Jack’s work special to her was missing. She’d tried and tried to explain.

  ‘You are ignoring the emotion, Jack.’ She did not know how else to say it.

  He shook his head. ‘This is no different from when I painted Nancy.’

  ‘The painting of Nancy made her look alive. You could see all that youthful passion in her face, all her hopes and yearnings for the future.’

  He threw up a hand. ‘That is nonsense, Ariana. Nancy sat for me and I painted what I saw.’

  ‘Then you see me as flat and lifeless.’ Her voice rose. ‘You showed how you loved Nancy when you painted her.’

  He straightened. ‘Do you accuse me of having no feelings for you?’

  He had shown her in dozens of ways how he felt about her, but he had never spoken of loving her. It hurt her that he never spoke the word, even now.

  ‘What are your feelings, Jack?’ She pointed to the painting. ‘You hide them on the canvas.’

  He strode towards her and seized her by her shoulders. ‘You have to ask me, Ariana?’ His eyes showed a depth of emotion that took her breath away. Why was that not in her portrait?

  ‘Why does the painting have to pose the same question, Jack?’ she murmured. ‘You can do better than this. What do you feel when you are painting me?’

  He released her and turned away, raking a hand through his hair. ‘That Tranville will possess your portrait and will look upon it every day.’

  ‘Tranville,’ she said abruptly.

  Would she never rid herself of Tranville? Even though he no longer pursued her, she still felt his eyes upon her when he was in the Green Room and when he sat in his box while she was onstage. Sometimes during rehearsal he sat in the back of the theatre. Watching.

  She did not mention that to Jack.

  ‘I will also have a copy of the portrait,’ she reminded him. ‘I should like it to reflect what has passed between us when I look upon it. I should like other people to see those emotions when they look at engravings of it.’

  He averted his gaze.

  She turned away and headed towards the bedchamber door. ‘I am going to change my clothes. If we are done for the day, I must get to the theatre.’ She did not know the target for her anger; Tranville for his intrusion or Jack, who allowed him to be so important.

  She pulled off her costume and flung it on to his bed. She’d just started to dress when Jack entered the room.

  ‘Are you able to stay a little longer?’ he asked.

  She took a weary breath. ‘I think I ought to go.’

  He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I believe you are right about the portrait. I want to try something.’

  His touch melted away her anger. ‘What?’

  His hands slid down her arms to around her back. ‘Pose for me in the transparent gown.’ He untied the strings of her corset. ‘Without your stays.’

  Her brows rose. ‘Without wearing anything beneath?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was very close to her, his fingers untying her laces. ‘From the day you brought the costumes here, it has been the image I yearned to paint. Maybe that is the answer.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘I realise you would endure much censure if the final portrait showed your nakedness, but I will paint over it. The final portrait will show you in the other white gown.’

  Ariana imagined Jack’s eyes, serious and intent, boring into her, perusing every inch of her near nakedness, reaching into the very depths of her soul. The prospect excited her mind and her senses, arousing her as his stroking fingers aroused her in bed. Her heart pounded rapidly.

  These were the emotions she’d envisioned in the portrait.

  She shrugged out of her corset. ‘Let’s do it,’ she cried. ‘Let us start right now!’

  Chapter Twelve

  Nancy bade Michael farewell at the corner of Adam Street and The Strand. He would have to run to reach his class at Somerset House in time. She insisted he not walk her to the door. They always dawdled when saying goodbye, thinking of one more thing to say before parting.

  She watched him rush away, smiling at his limber gait. He turned around and saw her and paused as if he might return and walk her all the way. She moved the bouquet of flowers he had purchased for her to one arm and waved him on.

  It would be just like Michael to make himself late because of her.

  She sighed. What would she do if it were not for him? Michael was her most faithful friend, a far better friend than her old Bath schoolmates who used to whisper behind her back about her mother and Lord Tranville when they thought she did not know. Michael would never do that.

  If it were not for Michael, Nancy would hardly ever set foot out of the London house. Her mother never went out now that Lord Tranville had begun to call. Nancy had begun to dislike Lord Tranville’s visits. He always seemed to be assessing her, as if he was trying to decide how he could marry her off.

  Nancy lifted Michael’s flowers to her nose and walked slowly the rest of the way home. When she reached her door, she heard the clock chime one. She’d told her mother she’d be back by noon.

  From the hall she heard Tranville’s voice in the drawing room. Hoping to avoid him, Nancy walked quietly to the back of the townhouse, and started down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen to put her flowers in water.

  Their manservant was on his way up. ‘Hello, Wilson,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Would you mind telling Mama I have returned? I’ll be in my bedchamber after I tend to my flowers.’

  Wilson looked up at her. ‘Your mother asks that you come to her, miss.’

  Nancy took one more step down. ‘I’ll see her later. She has a caller.’

  Wilson stood in her way. ‘Your mother expressly asked that you come to the drawing room as soon as you returned.’

  Nancy sighed. ‘Because I am late, I expect.’

  He extended his hands. ‘I’ll take your things and see to your flowers, miss.’

  Was her mother that upset with her for being late?

  In the narrow space of the stairway, she first handed Wilson her flowers, then her hat and gloves. Finally she took off her cloak and handed that to him as well before turning and stomping up the stairs back to the hall. Realising she was acting in a rather childish manner, she collected herself, smoothed her skirt and hair, and entered the drawing room.

  ‘Nancy, you are home,’ her mother said as soon as she stepped through the doorway.

  Tranville and another gentleman stood. It was the gentleman from the Egyptian Hall, the one who had looked at her so rudely. Why would he be calling on her mother?

  ‘Ah, Nancy, my dear. How good to see you.’ Tranville strode over to her. He took her hand in his. ‘Come, say hello. I believe you have met Lord Ullman.’

  Lord Ullman’s face was flushed. He bowed to her. ‘Miss Vernon. It is a delight to see you again.’

  She curtsied. ‘Good day, sir.’

  Her mother patted the chair between her and Lord Ullman. ‘Come sit with us. We have been having a nice chat.’

  Nancy did not se
e why her presence was necessary for them to continue their nice chat, but she lowered herself into the chair.

  Lord Ullman leaned towards her. ‘How are you this fine day, Miss Vernon?’

  ‘Very well, sir,’ she murmured.

  ‘Your mother said you were visiting the shops?’ he continued.

  ‘The Covent Garden market, sir,’ she replied.

  ‘And did you purchase anything?’

  ‘Flowers, sir.’ She could not imagine why he was interrogating her so, and why her mother was smiling.

  ‘We have been talking about you,’ her mother said.

  Nancy quickly turned towards her.

  Lord Ullman reached over and patted her hand. ‘Nothing but praises, my dear.’

  Lord Tranville stood. ‘In fact, Lord Ullman has something he wishes to say to you.’ He extended his hand to her mother. ‘Come, Mary, let us leave the room for a moment.’

  Her mother clasped his hand and let him assist her to her feet, which she could do very well on her own. Nancy’s heart thumped painfully. She did not wish them to leave her alone with Lord Ullman. ‘Mama, wait—’

  Her mother merely tossed her a fond look before walking out of the room. Tranville followed and closed the door behind him.

  Nancy glanced in alarm at Lord Ullman. She had never before been alone in a room with a gentleman with the door closed. Not even Michael.

  Lord Ullman moved his chair closer to her, so that their knees touched, then he took both her hands in his. ‘My dear Miss Vernon, I have thought of nothing but you since that moment—that precious moment—of first seeing you in the Egyptian Hall.’

  ‘I cannot imagine—’ she began, trying to pull her hands away.

  He held fast and brought one hand to his wet lips. ‘I have been in a passion for you—’

  ‘Sir!’ A passion? This was shocking. He was nearly as old as Tranville.

  He kept making her hand wet. ‘I cannot rest until you say you will be mine. I want nothing more in this world than to possess you.’

  She jumped to her feet. ‘Speak no more! I—I am too young for this.’ She could not believe her mother had sanctioned this shocking exhibition. ‘I have hopes of marriage, sir. I am too young for an affair. I cannot do it.’

  He laughed at her and again put her hand against his wet lips. ‘You foolish, darling girl. I would never dishonour you with such a request. It is marriage I seek from you.’ He fell to his knees. ‘Miss Vernon, will you consent to be my bride?’

  Her throat seized in panic. ‘Your bride?’

  She sank back in her chair. He rose from his knees and pushed his chair even closer. ‘I have your mother’s approval and Lord Tranville’s. It is he who has brokered the matter. All that is wanting is your consent.’

  Brokered the matter? What did that mean? Had Lord Tranville sold her? Had her mother agreed to it?

  ‘No,’ she cried. Her thoughts were racing. She wanted to refuse him, but would her mother be angry with her if she did? ‘No. I—I mean, I cannot answer now. Please do not require me to answer. This is too sudden for me.’

  He finally released her and gave her room to breathe. ‘I quite understand. You know so little of me.’ He smiled indulgently. ‘Let me assure you, I am a wealthy man. My title is an old one and my finances are as solid as the Bank of England. I am a widower with two delightful children who are in great need of a mother. I am as healthy as a horse.’ He patted his chest. ‘And, if I do say so myself, lusty enough for a young wife. It shall be my life’s endeavour to please you and see you happy.’

  Lusty enough? She cringed. He was nothing like the lovers of her fantasies, of the novels she read. He—he was fat. And old. And he had very little hair.

  She could not catch her breath. ‘Please…’

  He stood, but lifted her chin with his hand. ‘I will bid you adieu for this day. Your mother and Lord Tranville will, I am confident, ease your maidenly mind.’

  He bent down and actually put his lips on hers. It was like being forced to kiss a raw fish.

  He straightened. ‘One more assurance I will make to you. I naturally forgo any expectation of a dowry. In fact, I agreed with Tranville that, with our marriage, I ought to assume the financial support for your mother as well as for you, and, I further assure you, I am a very generous man.’

  Tranville brokered the support of her mother as well? Her mind raced. Why would he do that?

  Lord Ullman made a deep bow, turned and walked out of the room.

  Nancy wiped her lips with the back of her hand and grasped her throat. She bent over, uncertain if she would faint.

  Her mother and Tranville bustled in.

  Her mother rushed to her side. ‘You did not say yes, Nancy dear? I am so surprised.’

  Tranville looked stern. ‘He makes you a decent offer. More than you have a right to expect.’

  Nancy stared into her mother’s eyes. ‘Do you want me to accept him, Mama?’

  Her mother blinked. ‘Why, of course. You will be set for life.’

  ‘And so will you—’ she snapped.

  Tranville interrupted her. ‘Now, now. Never mind that. This is about you, not your mother.’

  Nancy gaped at him. Perhaps her mother did not know of that part of the bargain. ‘But, you—’ she began.

  ‘Hush!’ He glared at her. ‘Do not be a fool and throw this offer away, girl.’

  ‘It is a wonderful match, Nancy. More than I could ever have dreamed for you.’

  She shot to her feet. ‘I—I need some time. Give me some time.’ She pushed by them and headed for the door.

  ‘He will not wait for ever,’ Tranville said.

  Nancy stumbled into the hall and whirled around, not knowing what to do.

  ‘Nancy?’ her mother called from the drawing room.

  With a tiny cry, Nancy opened the front door and ran out into the street, without her hat or her gloves or her cloak, not thinking anything but that she needed to find somewhere she could breathe.

  A woman’s voice sounded from behind her. ‘Miss Vernon!’

  Ariana, exhilarated and optimistic about the portrait, had just walked out of Jack’s building when his sister rushed by her. If she took time to alert Jack, Nancy might disappear from sight.

  Ariana ran after her. ‘Nancy!’

  The girl showed no sign of even hearing her. She seemed to be rushing straight to the river. Ariana could only think she meant to jump in.

  She caught up to Nancy near the water’s edge, seizing her arm and pulling her away from where the path led straight into the water.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ariana cried. ‘What is wrong?’

  It seemed to take the girl a few moments to recognise her. ‘It is you, Miss Blane.’

  ‘Were you going to jump in?’ Ariana’s heart was still thumping.

  Nancy shook her head. ‘I—I want to go to Somerset House. To find Michael.’

  Ariana put an arm around the girl. ‘I see.’ She spoke in a consoling tone. ‘To find Michael. But why do you wish to find him?’

  ‘Oh, Miss Blane!’ Nancy flung her arms around Ariana’s neck and burst into tears. ‘It is so awful. What am I to do?’

  Ariana let the fit of weeping die down before asking Nancy to explain. The whole appalling story spilled out. Lord Tranville had arranged for Lord Ullman to propose marriage to her. The poor child! Poor Michael.

  ‘The worst thing is,’ Nancy gulped. ‘My mother wants me to marry him. And he is old enough to be my father. And he is fat!’ She burst into another fit of tears.

  ‘There. There.’ She patted Nancy’s back until she calmed again. ‘I am sure there is a way to fix this.’

  ‘Nothing can be done!’

  She held the girl longer. ‘We must go back and tell Jack.’

  Nancy pulled away. ‘Jack hates Lord Tranville! He’ll fight a duel or something.’

  ‘Jack will help you, I know he will,’ she murmured. ‘You must tell him about this.’

  ‘No one
can help me.’ Nancy covered her face with her hands. When she dropped them again, she sighed. ‘Oh, very well. We will tell Jack.’

  Ariana took off her cloak and wrapped it around the shivering girl. She held on to her as they walked back to Jack’s door.

  Nancy talked the whole way. ‘The thing is, if I marry Lord Ullman, he will be the one to support Mama. Lord Tranville added that to the marriage agreement. If I refuse, then maybe he won’t pay Mama any more money and we’ll have nothing to live on.’

  Ariana almost tripped. ‘Lord Tranville provides your mother’s support even now? I thought his…connection…to her was in the past.’

  ‘He has always supported us.’ Nancy nodded. ‘Since my father died. We would be in abject poverty if he had not. It will break Mama’s heart when she discovers he doesn’t want to pay for her any more.’

  It had been clear that Jack’s mother had once been Tranville’s mistress, but Ariana had not known he’d also provided Jack’s family’s support. ‘Why should it break her heart?’

  ‘Because Mama is so in love with him. Lord Tranville is more important to her than anyone else, even Jack and me.’

  Was Jack’s mother foolish enough to prefer Tranville over her own children? She thought her own mother was the only one to prefer a man—any man—to her child.

  ‘She gave up everything for him,’ Nancy went on. ‘But, of course, I believe we would have starved otherwise, even though Jack says not.’ The girl looked at her quizzically. ‘I thought Jack would have told you all this.’

  Ariana would have thought so, too. ‘Perhaps he did not think it important.’ Not important that his mother was supported by Tranville and in love with him to boot.

  Nancy’s forehead creased. ‘I truly believed Lord Tranville loved Mama, but, if he loved her, he would not want to stop taking care of her. He can afford Mama now better than before he inherited his title. It is as if he wants to be rid of her.’

  They reached Jack’s building. ‘Come, we’ll knock on the door.’ She sounded the knocker.

  Jack was still wearing his paint-spattered shirt. ‘Ariana?’ He saw Nancy and his eyes grew wide. ‘Come in.’