Michael stopped and turned her to face him. “We’ve been lovers, Beth. That warrants a level of informality, doesn’t it?”
She blushed and looked away, but didn’t comment. He turned and took her arm so that they could walk toward her home.
“Thank you, Michael, for coming to my rescue.”
Beth’s voice was so soft, he almost had to bend down to hear it. “Why was that man hounding you?”
“My mother has been purchasing things on credit at one of the shops we used when Father was alive and they are demanding payment. Evidently our fall from grace has finally been found out.” She glanced up at him. “Don’t even say it. I will not take money from you, Langston.”
“How do you intend to deal with it?”
“That is none of your business, my lord.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Sell me the painting, Beth. I’ll pay whatever amount you need to cover the debt.”
“No.”
“I want the painting, Beth. It’s an amazing piece of art.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I already have someone interested in the painting.”
“That would be Mr. St. Clair, the gentleman you met last night.”
“I had no idea. If you don’t mind, I need to stop at this merchant for dinner.” She released his arm and crossed the street to a vendor selling pies. Michael followed her and added another one to the order then paid the full bill.
“Thank you, my lord. You didn’t need to do that.”
Her voice was quiet as they made their way toward the end of the square where she lived. In the daylight, the old brick buildings were a bit dingy, and the gardens weren’t as kept up as in Mayfair. Children played in the grassy square, being watched by anxious mothers. But given what he’d heard, he wondered how Beth and her mother were able to keep up this level of appearances. Beth’s work in the theatre would not bring in much money. If Sir Charles had anything to leave them, it hadn’t been much.
Michael had checked and several of Sir Charles’ better pieces of art were sold several years ago. He now assumed they were sold to pay off debts incurred. Beth had been holding things together for a long time.
They reached her door and Beth turned to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”
Michael stopped her before she unlocked the door with a hand on hers. “You are most welcome. I should come in and say hello to your mother, don’t you think?”
Chapter Ten
Her heart sank at his words. Worse was the determination on his face. Langston was determined to stay as long as possible and if he stayed, her mother’s hope in a marriage would increase. Lady Bishop lived in her fantasy world where society would welcome them with open arms. Beth was more realistic. Society would not look kindly on a woman who painted sets for her daily bread marrying a peer, especially when that man would be a duke.
She stepped into the small entrance, removed her bonnet, and coat and hung them on the peg by the door. Langston had stepped into the entrance behind her, and seemed to fill up all the space in the small area. His scent wrapped around her reminding her of their kiss last night, weakening her resolve.
“If you’ll make yourself comfortable, I’ll go check on Mother and put the kettle on for tea.” She moved toward the kitchen and Langston followed.
“I’m happy to help, if you need it.”
Beth turned to him. “You, a marquis, put the kettle on. Do you even know how?”
“I can make tea.”
She snickered. She just couldn’t see it. The man had been raised with servants at his beck and call. She wondered if he could even light the stove.
“You doubt my skill? Even your father had me making tea while we worked,” Langston said as they entered the tiny kitchen at the back of the flat.
“I had forgotten that.” Beth set the pies on the small wooden table, unable to keep the smile off her face. “The kettle is there on the stove. The stove may need more fuel. I’m sure you understand how to use the pump. Tea is in this box.” She placed a brown teapot on the table. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Beth stood in the doorway a moment watching as Langston banged his way around their small kitchen. He lit the stove and filled the kettle before turning back to her with a proud grin. Beth felt her own lips lift in an answering smile, then turned toward the stairs. This side of Langston could break her heart if she let him. She took the steps slowly to the next floor. Reaching the room, she stepped into the open doorway. Tansy was sitting with her mother in her room. “Mother, Langston is here. He will be staying for dinner.”
“Lord Langston is here and saw you looking like that?” Her mother rose from her chair and smoothed her dress. “Tansy, help me change quickly. Beth, change into something nicer. That rose day gown will be quite nice and do something with your hair.”
“Mother, he walked me home. I don’t think it matters.” She was not going to all the trouble of changing just to eat the pies she purchased off the street. Besides, if Langston was that concerned, he could leave.
Her mother glared at her. “The point is that he is a marquis. Please tell me you left the man in the parlor.”
Beth grinned at her mother. “I left him in the kitchen to put the kettle on.”
“Beth! You didn’t! Tansy, hurry up girl. Finish and see what this lordship is into.”
“Tansy, I’ll take care of Mother. Go rescue our tea. Though he seemed to know what he was doing, I rather doubt he’s had much experience with tea making.”
Tansy ran from the room and Beth took over helping her mother with her dress. “Will this one do?” She held up a dark blue dress.
“That’s fine. I knew this day would come. I knew Lord Langston would not let us down.” Lady Bishop pinched her cheeks as she surveyed her face in the mirror. “Beth, if he proposes, you must say yes.”
“Mother, he’s not going to propose.”
Lady Bishop turned to her. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He will propose.”
Beth closed her eyes against the hope in her mother’s voice. She understood. She did, but she couldn’t put her hope in something that would not happen. “Mother, I doubt he is here except to renew his friendship. Do not get your hopes up for more.”
“Now aren’t you glad I purchased those new gowns for you? We shall be back into society before the little season, I know it.”
“Mother, I don’t know if I even want to marry him.”
Lady Bishop turned. “Are you mad? This man can save us from being destitute.”
“Things aren’t so very bad.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Beth regretted them. They were like kindling to her mother’s temper.
“You are in trade, Beth. You work. How is that acceptable? You should be married to a man like Langston. I will not have done my duty as your mother if I didn’t insist. Now you will go and change into something more suitable while I entertain our guest.”
“Mother—”
“Now!”
Beth’s eyes widened at her mother’s tone. Most days, she was the one who insisted and kept things moving. Having her mother take charge was worrisome. Beth wasn’t sure she trusted her mother not to do something crazy to force Langston to marry her. “Yes, ma’am, but you will not coerce Langston into anything.”
Lady Bishop’s eyebrows raised. “How dare you suggest that I would trick the man into marriage. Now enough of this discussion. Langston is waiting downstairs without anyone attending him.”
“Fine, but do not needle him about marriage, Mother. Let it be.” Beth turned and left the room to move down the hall to her own room. She wanted to slam the door. Hard. Her mother’s obsession with Langston and marriage was making her daft. Langston was here because of his connection with her father, nothing more.
But he kissed you. He told you he missed you.
Beth plopped onto the small bed in the room. Langston had touched her last night as if she were precious to him. It made no sense. Why would Langston look for her? Remember
her? She brought nothing to the match. She was just the daughter of a somewhat famous artist, no one of importance.
The Duke of Stafford would not allow such a match, no matter what. Beth knew she was mistress material now that she worked as an artist. She was doomed to always be in second place in the life of a man like Langston. Men like him married titled heiresses with ancestors that dated back to the Norman Conquest. They kept women like her until they grew tired of them.
It hurt to think of what her place would be in Langston’s life, but it tempted her as well. At least she’d have a part of his life. She wouldn’t be alone, depending only upon herself. She’d have someone who cared for her. She’d have intimacy.
She’d never realized how much she craved that intimacy until Langston touched her last night. The tenderness in his face, in the way his fingers had brushed against her cheek, pulled at a longing inside her that she’d buried so very deep over the last five years that he’d been out of her life. She had given up ever feeling that again.
Beth stood again and undid her dress, slipping it off and laying it across the bed. She went to the small cupboard in her room and searched for something suitable finally settling on a simple rose colored wool. It was old, but it fit and was nicer than the brown. She couldn’t bring herself to wear the dresses her mother had bought, especially after her interlude with Mr. Jones outside the theatre today.
There was a topic she was glad to avoid. The man had frightened her more than she wanted to admit. So much so, she thought of asking Thomas to walk her home, but Langston had arrived and stepped in. That Langston let the topic go so easily made her even more nervous. She knew he hadn’t forgotten. He just hadn’t found the opportunity to broach the topic again. He could be doggedly stubborn when he wanted.
Beth retrieved a lace fichu from her dresser and fitted it into the low neckline of her gown. She patted her hair, tucking in some of the strands that had come undone. Finally, she could stall no longer and made her way down the stairs to rejoin Langston and her mother. Hopefully her mother had followed her advice and behaved.
She was on the next to the last step when she heard her mother’s voice coming from the parlor.
“You honor us with your visit, my lord.”
Beth recognized that tone in her mother’s voice. She was in full toady mode. Beth gripped the bannister tightly waiting for Langston’s reply.
“I couldn’t let Miss Bishop walk home unaccompanied,” Langston said. “She should not walk from the theatre alone each day.”
“Yes, but she enjoys the work. It allows her to paint. If it were up to me, I would demand that she leave, but you know how headstrong Beth is.”
Beth winced at the tone of her mother’s voice. Her work at the theatre was an ongoing argument. It was also one her mother regularly lost because it put food on their table.
“Indeed. It is nice to know that some things haven’t changed.”
Beth almost groaned at the humor in his voice.
“I’d like to know your intentions toward my daughter, Lord Langston.”
Oh no! Please, not that question! Beth bounded down the stairs and into the parlor. “Lord Langston, perhaps we can eat now? Mother, can you assist me in the kitchen?”
“Do not interrupt me, Elizabeth Charlotte. This is for your own good.”
“Mother, please,” Beth begged. “We can discuss it after we eat. The pies are getting cold as is the tea. I’m sure his lordship will enlighten us as to the reason for his visit afterwards, won’t you, my lord?” Beth sent him a pleading look.
Lady Bishop turned her glare on Beth and raised one eyebrow. Beth knew that look. Mother wasn’t going to budge until she had an answer. From the look of amusement on Langston’s face, Beth was terrified of his answer.
Langston smirked. “Of course, Miss Bishop. We are old friends, Lady Bishop. I had hoped to continue that friendship and be of service to you and your daughter, if I may. Your husband meant a great deal to me.”
Beth breathed a sigh of relief and pushed down the twinge of disappointment that he might be here for another reason. “Thank you, Lord Langston. It is a comfort to know we have one friend who won’t desert us, isn’t it Mother?”
Beth’s smile tightened as her mother glowered at her. She couldn’t stop her mother from hoping that something more would come of this connection with Langston, but Beth knew what couldn’t come of it. A friendship was one thing. Anything else would be moving into a territory she wasn’t ready to commit to yet—becoming his mistress, no matter how tempting it was.
Chapter Eleven
Michael felt like he was sitting in the middle of a battle waiting to be hit by a stray bullet, the tension between Lady Bishop and Beth was so strong. Lady Bishop would say one thing, Beth contradicted it. Every comment, no matter how mundane, ended up stinging him through no fault of his own. Of course, he’d brought it upon himself. He had to see Beth, be near her, breathe her in. He could not stay away at this point, or would not. A chance meeting had given him a second chance and he’d be damned if he’d let it go.
How he wished he’d done things differently. He should have married Beth and taken her with him, but where would that have left Sir Charles? Her father had needed her as his mother had needed him. They’d had no choice but to put their life together on hold until the crisis had passed. There was no way to know that years would pass before they’d see each other again.
It was a matter of pride that he honor his promise to Beth, but he honestly couldn’t imagine his life without her now that he’d found her again. Lady Bishop’s assumption that he would propose was correct. Michael just needed Beth to want him badly enough to accept. He couldn’t imagine a life without her by his side.
Unfortunately, Beth didn’t seem to be in agreement.
The incident this evening had driven that home. His protective instincts were strong. A man had touched Beth, threatened her, and he’d wanted to beat the man to a bloody pulp. He protected what was his. Beth was his and she was in trouble. She would probably demand that he stay out of her business. She was going to have to live with disappointment on that front.
Dinner had been plain, but good. The three of them sat in the warm kitchen and ate, sharing stories of his time with them. They had removed to the parlor for tea afterwards. It was a comfortable room despite the smallness of it. He felt at home. The only time he’d felt like this was when he called upon Sir Charles during his mentorship. They’d lived in Mayfair in those days, but it was always Beth that made him at home. The clock on the mantle chimed the hour. It was growing late, too late for callers. He was probably due to attend some function or another, but Michael didn’t care. However he didn’t want to overstay his welcome, so he set his teacup down on the small side table and stood. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Bishop, Miss Bishop. I had better let you seek your rest.”
Lady Bishop stood, her hands clasped together. “Thank you for seeing Beth home, my lord. I worry so about her walking home from the theatre. The streets are not safe for a young woman alone.”
“Mother, I am perfectly safe.”
“Then why is that man, Mr. Carter, is always seeing you home?”
Michael almost chuckled at the look on Beth’s face. “It was my pleasure, Lady Bishop. I have missed you both these past few years. I’m ashamed that I have not called before now.”
“It is quite all right, my lord, though I wonder if you would do Beth and I a favor before you leave. There are several of my husband’s paintings in the attic. I wonder if you would have a glance at them and tell us if they are worth selling. Our circumstances are such that we could use the funds, though I would dearly hate to part with them.”
“Mother, what paintings?”
“You know those earlier portraits, Beth. You keep them up in your studio.”
Beth lifted her chin. “I can take care of it, Mother. There is no need to bother Lord Langston with such a trivial task.”
“Nonsense, dear. You kno
w you look upon those paintings with a daughter’s eye. Having Lord Langston look at them will help us ascertain the appropriate value for them. Isn’t that right, Lord Langston?”
“You are correct, ma’am.” Michael said watching Beth’s face move from astonishment to flush with embarrassment. “If you ladies would show me the way?”
“Beth, dear, take Lord Langston up to the attic, please. Forgive us, for using such a space, my lord. As you can see this flat is much smaller than our home in Mayfair.”
“There is nothing to forgive, ma’am.” Michael assured her.
“Mother, aren’t you coming?”
Beth’s voice held a tinge of panic, making Michael wonder if she was afraid to be alone with him again. It gave him hope because if she was truly not affected by his presence, she’d not have a problem being in the attic with him.
“I’m tired. I think I will go up to bed. Be sure to lock up when Lord Langston leaves.”
Beth sighed heavily. “This way, my lord.”
Michael followed Beth up three flights of stairs. They each held a candle to light their way. Behind him, he could hear the closing of a door where Lady Bishop went into her room on the second floor. At the top of the stairs they moved through a narrow corridor toward the back of the house. Usually these quarters were kept for servants. Beth must have taken one of the rooms to paint in. Beth opened a door and moved to light a few lamps.
Michael stood in the doorway and looked about the small room. Windows lined the one wall facing the mews. In daylight, this room would be the perfect studio. Stacks of canvases lined the walls under the windows. An easel and small table with a stool were by the windows. A chaise covered with a sheet was positioned in front of the very tiny fireplace. A large old worktable was the only other piece of furniture in the room. It was small but very functional.
“I wish I had something like this in my own house.” He moved into the room taking note of the canvases leaning against the wall as well as the canvas on the easel. The smell of oil paint and turpentine filled the room.
The Art of Seduction (Kings of Industry) Page 7
