by Amanda Scott
To Crawley’s surprise, the beauty went with no more than a muttered imprecation, which he did not overhear. Left alone, he strode impatiently to the window, wishing he were the sort of man who could simply depart now that they had gone. He knew he could not, however. He would encounter the Adlam sisters at many social activities during the Season, so he must do what he could now to smooth over the awkward situation. His only hope to escape with pride and reputation even partially intact was to think of some acceptable way to explain himself to Miss Adlam, but what that might be he had no idea.
He looked aimlessly out the window till he saw that it overlooked a barren back garden, then began to pace instead, wracking his brain for a scheme to put himself in the clear, pacing back and forth until he found himself looking idly down at the writing desk. His eyes focused on the last words she had written, and he stared at them in shock. I cannot go on, she had written. Swiftly he read the preceding line, but there was nothing helpful there, merely a comment about the household being muddled and the hours of each day too few. He would have read more, but hearing the door latch click, he stepped hurriedly back, turning at the same time to face the door when Miss Adlam returned.
She gazed at him sternly, and feeling his guilty conscience surface again, he wondered if she knew he had seen what she had written. She looked so calm and self-possessed that he found it difficult to imagine that she could be contemplating self-destruction; however, for some reason as yet unknown to him she seemed to carry the entire burden of this household on her slim shoulders, and such a vast responsibility might overburden anyone, let alone one small, inexperienced female.
Felicia interrupted his thoughts. “If you have an explanation, sir, I suggest you get on with it, for I do not have a great deal of time at my command today. My suspicion is that you had some thought of attempting to seduce my sister. If that is the case, you must know now that you have failed.”
“No,” he said more sharply than he had intended. “That is to say, ma’am, I had no such intention. I confess, I am no artist—not to compare with Vyne, at all events—but my intentions toward your sister are entirely honorable, and I can assure you that neither she nor you has cause to fear me.”
“What, precisely, did you intend, Lord Crawley?”
“Marriage,” he said, adding hastily, “that is to say, in due time, and only if we should find that we suit one another. I have been foolish, ma’am, but needs must when the devil drives, and the devil has been driving me hard. May I sit down?”
“Certainly, sir, but pray be brief.” Seating herself in the chair she had occupied before, she gestured for him to take one nearby, adding, “A declaration ought more properly to be made to my father, of course, but I doubt he would give my sister to a fortune hunter—and that, as I see now, is what you must be. And truly, sir, I have no time to discuss foolishness. I am to take my sister to her dressmaker in precisely half an hour.”
He was not doing at all well, he realized. The woman had reduced him to nursery status merely by the way she looked at him. “My only hope is that you can find it in your heart to forgive an impulsive gesture.” He said the words only to give himself time to think, for he had not the least notion what to say to her. He was not a common fortune hunter, but he could well believe that her father would not accept his request for Miss Theodosia’s hand, certainly not when he had just met the girl and had no great reputation to precede him. He smiled again, and was relieved to see this time that his smile was reflected in her eyes. “I confess,” he said, “I do not know what to say to redeem myself, though I very much wish to do so.”
“I have little tolerance for foolishness, sir. I must say, I should not have thought ill of you had we met under other circumstances. I begin to think this all must be the result of some foolish wager. My young cousin Tom has told me that there were gentlemen on shipboard with them—my brother’s children, from India, that is—who were accustomed to bet on how many times the wind would rise before sunset. Was it a wager?”
“There was a wager involved,” he said, wishing he could accept such a simple way out. “I enjoy a friendship with Sir Richard, and when we learned that your sister was to have her portrait painted, I bet him I could make her choose myself over him as the artist. But,” he added with a sigh, “that is not the sole reason I came today. I am afraid you were right to name me fortune hunter, Miss Adlam. I had not thought of myself in that way, but I did come to see your sister only because I had learned of her great dowry. Now I shan’t even win the wager, though I was well on the way to doing so before I encountered you.”
“You might easily have lied to me, sir.”
“I might, but from some cause or other, I did not.”
“I am glad, though I must tell you I think your actions were reprehensible for a man in your position.”
Crawley bit back an impulse to tell her precisely—since she liked the word so much—what his position really was, and was relieved rather than annoyed when the footman entered just then, until he said, “Sir Richard Vyne is below, Miss Felicia.”
Taking the card from the silver salver the footman held out to her, Miss Adlam read it and looked up at Crawley, her eyes alight with sudden laughter. “You will want to tell Sir Richard the result of your wager, sir. Show him up at once, Peters.”
Crawley restrained an urge to command him to do no such thing. He was never going to hear the end of this. Making no attempt to break the silence that fell when the lad had gone, he considered what revenge Dickon might take. His only hope was that he would not be so amused by it all that he would tell her the whole story, beginning with the York Mail robbery and reading her letter. He tried to tell himself it was not so much that he worried about what she would think of him as that she was a gently nurtured female clearly under a good deal of tension already. With all the responsibility she bore, it simply might not be good for her to hear such things as Dickon might tell her. Watching her, he wondered how she could manage to look so calm when both her letters had suggested a mind in great turmoil. He experienced a sudden, overwhelming determination not to add to her troubles, or to allow Vyne to do so.
The artist entered moments later, bowed to Miss Adlam, then turned with an enigmatic look to say to Crawley, “Here before me, are you? I decided to come around directly instead of writing to set an appointment, but I expect you have already convinced this poor lady to suppose that you are a greater painter than I.”
Relieved that his friend had said nothing more damning, Crawley smiled lazily at him. “I am indeed before you, Dickon, and I think I might claim victory in our wager, too, for I have got Miss Theodosia begging for me to paint her portrait. However, Miss Adlam knows the truth, so Miss Theo will soon know me for an impostor.”
“I see,” Vyne said, his expression showing Crawley that he did not see at all but was willing to be led. He turned to Miss Adlam. “I would like to meet your sister, ma’am. I cannot say whether I will paint her or not, you see, until I determine if the exercise will amuse me.”
“Indeed?” Miss Adlam’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Crawley. “Perhaps, sir, you will yet win your wager. My sister will not like being looked over like a prize cow.”
Vyne shrugged, glancing around the room. “That is her choice, of course, ma’am. I have seen some excellent work in this house, but you also have a number of commonplace pieces. That Constable over there is certainly not one of his best.”
“That is Bradstoke,” Felicia said quietly. “We think Mr. Constable captured the feeling we like best about our home.”
Vyne shook his head, clearly unimpressed, and Crawley felt impelled to say, “Forgive Dickon, Miss Adlam. He is merely being odious, a thing he does even better than he paints.”
Vyne looked at him in surprise. “Was I odious? I did not mean to be.” He looked over his shoulder at Felicia and added, “I daresay I am plain spoken, ma’am. My mind is generally on my work, not on such ordinary stuff. Good God,” he added, nearly losing his bal
ance when, his attention caught by the movement of the door as it opened, he shifted his gaze, then whipped his head around to stare awestruck at Theo.
Standing framed in the doorway, she looked from one man to the other, then said to Felicia, “Peters told me Sir Richard was here. I don’t know what you mean to do, but it is my portrait, after all, and I am determined that Crawley shall paint it.”
“Serve you right if he did,” Vyne muttered, moving nearer the door, still scrutinizing her.
Theo looked daggers at him. “Why, what can you mean by such a rude remark?” she said, raising her chin indignantly.
“Hold that pose for a moment,” he ordered, moving to stand beside her, peering at her face. “No, bring your chin down just a hair’s breadth. Not like that,” he snapped, reaching to grasp her chin firmly in his large hand. “There now, don’t move. No, dammit, come into the room. I cannot get around you in the doorway.” When Theo, jerking her chin from his grasp, swept past him into the room, he snorted. “Probably wouldn’t do, Miss Adlam. Chit’s too hot at hand to sit still or take direction.”
“I don’t want you to paint me,” Theo said shrilly. “You are a rude and dreadful man. I want Crawley!”
Crawley knew before he looked at her that Miss Adlam’s gaze had shifted to him. He sighed, forced himself to meet her look, and understood it completely. “Miss Theodosia,” he said gently. “I fear that I have acted in the worst way imaginable in leading you to believe me a better painter than I am. I can sketch caricatures, but I am not at all the artist Vyne is, and I should be a swindler to pretend for another moment that I am.”
“But you are nice, and he is rude,” Theo said flatly. “I do not want to sit for him if he is going to treat me the way he has done just now.”
He looked apologetically at Miss Adlam, who said gently, “But you do want your portrait painted, do you not, my dear?”
“You know I do. I just do not want that dreadful man to paint it. I do not like him.”
Vyne continued to look at her. “Can’t say I don’t want to paint you, Miss Theodosia. Truth is, I don’t see perfect features very often. Be a privilege, I’m sure.”
“Don’t trip over your tongue, Dickon,” Crawley said, amused to realize that his friend really did want to paint her. “The young lady don’t want to subject herself to your rudeness, and I cannot blame her. She’s much too young and innocent a victim.”
“Dash it, I don’t want to ravish her,” Vyne snapped, grimacing. “I only want to paint her.”
Felicia said calmly, “You will have no opportunity to ravish her, sir. Her maid or I will be with her every moment; however, I must warn you that if you are asked to take this commission, you must promise to behave as a gentleman in every way,”
“Impossible,” Crawley said frankly with a mocking look at Vyne. “The only way to guarantee that he does not offend her daily, Miss Adlam, is if someone bigger than he is were to remain in the room with them to protect her from his surly moods.”
To his astonishment, Miss Adlam said reasonably, “You are larger than he is, my lord, and you did say that you desired to redeem yourself. If you will agree to such an arrangement, I believe that would suit my sister and me perfectly well.”
“Oh, yes,” Theo said, smiling brilliantly at him. “The very thing! Oh, pray sir, do say that you will.”
Vyne was not nearly so delighted. He looked, Crawley thought, as if he were ready to commit murder.
Smiling blandly at the artist, he did not so much as stop to think before he found himself saying, “It will be a pleasure.”
4
SEEING LORD CRAWLEY RISE from his chair as both men prepared to depart, and wondering what had possessed her to suggest such a scheme, Felicia stood up, gathered herself, and said with tolerable composure, “Then you will take the commission, Sir Richard. You will work here, of course, for my sister cannot be expected to go to you to sit. When do you want to begin?”
Crawley, giving her another of the odd, rather measuring looks she had noted after leaving him alone those few minutes, said, “You will be well advised to leave the whole business in our hands now, ma’am. We’ll return tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
“Eight,” Sir Richard said brusquely before Felicia could tell Crawley that she had no intention of following such advice. She saw that the artist was still preoccupied, watching Theo. He added, “Ten’s not early enough. Light’s only good morning or afternoon, not when I’ve got to make do with a bit of each.”
Felicia was not surprised to hear Theo say indignantly, “Then I should much prefer afternoon sittings, Sir Richard, and I should think that my preference must prevail.”
Felicia saw Crawley open his mouth to intervene but before he could do so, Vyne retorted, “You are not doing the painting, my girl. I prefer a room on the north side of a house, but if I must paint you here, that cannot be, for this house sits too close to the houses on either side of it. We can either use the west side or the east side, and I prefer the east because it is not so hot on a hot day, and any light in London is clearer in the morning than it is later in the day.”
“Well, even half past eight is much too early,” Theo insisted. “If I am out late at a party—for example, we are going to Devonshire House tonight—I can scarcely expect to look my best so early in the morning.”
“True, Dickon,” Crawley said quickly. “Surely—”
“If she wants to look her best, she will not stay out late,” Vyne growled. “There is no cause to do so tonight, since I happen to know that it is merely one of her grace’s musical evenings. Come on, Crawler. I’m to meet Tom Lawrence and West in Castle Street in twenty minutes. Tied my rig to the area railing, so since I needn’t wait for it, I can give you a ride.”
Crawley smiled apologetically at Felicia, but she saw that he kept an eye on the scowling Theo as he said, “That would be Thomas Lawrence of the Royal Academy and Benjamin West, its president. The annual Academy Exhibition is to be held the last week in April. Every second year, the members award medals for the finest paintings, and they want Dickon to enter his work. Of course the reason he is in such a devil of a hurry to take me along now is he wants to be sure I don’t stay to claim victory on the field, but I too have received an invitation to Devonshire House, and I promise you, Miss Theodosia, I shan’t allow him to bully you there or when he begins your sittings.” Glancing at Vyne, he added, “I hope you haven’t got your brutish chestnuts tied to anyone’s railing. They’ll have had it down by now.”
“Got the blacks. Hurry up, Crawler.”
A moment later they were gone, and Theo turned quickly to Felicia, her scowls vanishing. “Wasn’t he wonderful?”
“Sir Richard?” Felicia affected surprise. “Why, I thought you detested him, my dear, but that just goes to show how wrong one person can be about another. He is certainly a handsome creature, and with the prettiest manners, too, so I cannot be much surprised that he has caught your fancy.”
“Oh, Felicia!” Theo laughed merrily. “What a jokesmith you can be! As if anyone could think that dreadful man handsome, and as for his manners ... Well, I just hope we may see some before our acquaintance with him is done. Wasn’t he dreadful? I meant Lord Crawley, of course. Such a delightful smile, and such a wise way about him. Why, he kept me laughing all the time.”
“He kept you preening all the time, like a vain little turtle dove, my dear,” Felicia said, not mincing matters, and hoping her sister was not developing a foolish tenderness for the outrageous, albeit charming, Crawley. “You must take care lest your vanity erase some of your beauty. It does not become a young woman to be so sure of her looks, you know.”
Theo shrugged lightly. “I did not see that anyone was offended by my behavior, Felicia. And if Sir Richard was, why it serves him right. He is quite impossible.”
“True, my love, but do not forget his reputation. You do not want him to paint you as a hag because he takes a dislike to your personality. It would be better, I think, to
show him only your graces. A lady does not allow her temper to be swayed by another’s action or speech, not if she knows her business.”
“Oh, pooh, you sound as if you were quoting one of Aunt Augusta’s foolish maxims.”
“Her words are rarely foolish, Theo,” Felicia said quietly.
“Well, at all events, I shall never be such a pattern-card as you are, Felicia. I gave up the attempt years ago.”
“Did you?” Felicia chuckled. “I was unaware that you had ever made such an attempt, my dear. Pray, when was this?”
Fortunately Theo also had a sense of humor. She grinned and said, “Well, if there was no real attempt to emulate you, at least it is true that I gave up long ago the notion of ever being as good as you are. Have you never put a foot out of place?”
“Dear me,” Felicia said, dismayed, “if that is what you think, I wonder how it is that we get on at all. I am scarcely a perfect person, Theo. I strive to do what is right, and if you must know the truth, I quite dread being scolded. In point of fact, I have prodigious fear that one day the earth will open up beneath my feet and swallow me, because I have done some awful thing, no doubt right out in public. You have no notion how I envy your indifference to society’s stern moral precepts.”
“Envy me? But you are forever scolding me, Felicia!”
“Nonsense. If I try to guide your steps from time to time, it is only because I am so much older than you are.”
“Just three years, though it often seems like much more, to be sure. But you are not an old cat yet, my dearest.” Theo grinned saucily at her. “Madame Bernille will be expecting us soon, will she not?”
Felicia glanced at the little clock on the mantel. “Yes, I told her that we would try to be there by two o’clock, and it is nearly that now. We must bustle about. I already ordered the carriage, so all we must do is tidy ourselves. I hope she has your gown ready, so you can wear it to Devonshire House tonight. It was kind of Aunt Augusta to arrange to take us to her grace’s musical evening, particularly since the duchess has pretty nearly retired from society and is so rarely seen abroad nowadays.”