She’d never agree to that, of course. She wasn’t even certain she’d agree to wed him. She’d never thought to marry, but then she’d never understood how a man got under your skin so that you ached for him when he wasn’t there. She longed to feel his arms around her, his soft lips nibbling on hers, his hard body held close against hers. A wild shiver raced up her spine at the mere thought.
So much for trying not to think about him! She couldn’t seem to stop!
One boon was that Reed knew all about her art and how important it was to her, and he didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, he’d gone hunting for her missing pieces.
Heavens, how had these sketches ended up among the paintings? She was lucky they weren’t ruined. She carefully lifted the sheaf of papers that had been wedged between canvases. She never treated her sketches so carelessly! She straightened them and turned over the top one to glance at it.
But... this wasn’t her sketch! How had it gotten mixed in with...
Goodness. It was of her!
She stared in stupefaction at the image of her bending to smell a rose in the small back garden. Although the sketch wasn’t in color, she knew she’d been wearing her favorite sage-green dress that day. Her hair was loose, blowing gently in the spring breeze. It was so vivid, she felt like reaching to hold her hair back against the wind.
Who had seen her like this? She’d assumed she was safe from view in the back garden or she’d never have worn her hair so casually.
She turned to the next picture. Another one of her! In this one, she was talking to Joseph, a fond smile on her face. She leafed through the next few drawings. Most were of her, doing various tasks around the house. Who was capable of this quality of drawing? And why were they here, among her paintings?
Had Mr. Dubuc–? No. This group of paintings had never left the house and he hadn’t had access to her studio. Besides, with this kind of talent, he wouldn’t have needed her to fund his life in Paris. He could have done it himself. Amply! These were exceptionally good.
The only people who had the opportunity to do these, other than Foster, Joseph, and Mrs. P — who she knew hadn’t done them because they were in some of the sketches with her — were Mr. Mason or Reed. But neither had mentioned being an artist. Not that Mr. Mason ever said much of a personal nature and Reed wouldn’t have known until he’d recovered his memory.
This one of Foster and her together was so detailed she could see the pain of his aching joints etched on his face. She was being selfish keeping him here with her. If she hadn’t already known it, this picture made it very clear. He was ready for a well-earned rest. It was time for him to begin enjoying his long-delayed retirement.
She turned to the next drawing. Her, again, but with such a vulnerable, yearning look on her face...
So. Not Mr. Mason. This one told her with absolute certainty who had drawn these pictures. Reed. The only one able to elicit such a look from her!
But... these were extraordinary! No wonder he thought he’d recognized her father’s name at the Art Exhibit, she wouldn’t be surprised if his work was up there alongside her sire’s. That was why the smell of turpentine and paint didn’t bother him. Why he appreciated, even admired, her talent.
She sank down onto the window seat that was a twin to the one in his studio. He was an artist!
She should have guessed. That was why he had a studio in his home!
No, not his home! An investment, Reed had said, but they weren’t his investments, they were the Earl’s. The clerk at Hornings and Crosby had told her so. The attached townhouses belonged to the man who, according to all accounts, had disowned his eldest son.
Likely, Reed had very little of his own. In the short run, he was certainly not a good risk, especially if he was a painter. Like her father and brothers. Wonderfully talented, but impractical, selfish, and often unable to take care of the basic necessities of life. Certainly not to be depended on, physically or emotionally.
She could almost hear the crash of her hopes as they tumbled down around her. She bent forward and covered her face with both hands. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been starting to imagine a future with Reed. But now... To live in the same precarious way she’d lived her childhood was impossible. With someone who might spend all her money, leaving their children hungry until the next period of plenty. It wouldn’t matter that she’d have enough to care for them because, once wed, what was hers became his.
Tears leaked out to slide silently down her cheeks. She searched for something favorable in this volte-face. After all, she’d never planned on being married or even having a relationship with a man. So nothing had changed. She was just back to where she had started. That was not so bad.
But right now, it hurt. She suspected that, like Pandora’s box once opened, these powerful feelings would be impossible to shut off.
Lowering her hands, she sat up and wiped her wet eyes. She could do it! Forget about him... forsake marriage and children. She’d have more time to devote to her painting. She’d heard you had to suffer to become good at your art. Well, she was going to be a master at it! That would be her consolation prize for not having Reed in her life.
Glumly she stood and wandered over to the easel. To think, she’d been so optimistic. She’d started a new painting this morning, one of her Grandma, sitting on the sofa, doing her embroidery.
Perhaps it was time to go home. Foster could begin his retirement and she had her painting. After all, her brothers weren’t there, they were still in Italy. Why not live in Evesham until her finances were settled? She’d send her work to Monsieur here in London to sell for her. She didn’t have to live here.
She simply couldn’t stay right next door to Reed! It pained her just to think of being that close to what could have been.
He did come from a well-to-do family. The thought slid into her consciousness. Surely an Earl’s family would never allow their heir’s children to go hungry or shoeless. Restless, she put her hands behind her back and wandered back to the window.
He certainly didn’t appear to be an irresponsible type of man. He’d organized her rescue in a remarkably efficient and speedy manner. Her family could never have done that. Would never have even thought of doing it!
She lay her cheek against the cold glass, hoping to shock some sense into herself. Should she give him the chance to prove he was different, that he could be a talented artist and a stable, loving husband and father?
She wanted to!
Turning back toward the room again, she wondered, didn’t she owe it to herself, and to him, to at least talk to him about it? At the Abbey, she had vowed to stop letting the past influence her present. Reed was nothing like the men in her family so why should she believe he’d fail her like they always had?
Nervous, but giddy with sudden excitement and hope, she decided she would wait for him to return before making her final decision.
* * *
“Missy, you’ve got to see this.” Tally was at her easel when Foster shuffled quickly into the studio, more agitated than she recalled seeing him in a long while.
“What is it?” For him to come right into the studio, there had to be something important going on.
“Quickly, come to the window.” He moved there himself and peered down into the street. “A young lady has just arrived next door.”
That made her move faster. She put down her brush and went to join him. The most elaborate carriage she’d ever seen stood in front of Reed’s door looking like a diamond set among stones.
“Fo - ster! Don’t be so obvious!” She bade him. There were no curtains to hide behind in the studio. Generally, she needed all the light she could get. Not that many people thought to look this high, if they were glancing at the house. Still… she’d hate to be seen spying on a visitor next door.
The windows all along the wall in the studio were open, as they were most of the time due to the strong paint and turpentine odors. Maybe they could hear what was being said.
&n
bsp; They need not have feared, the young lady’s voice was penetrating. “As soon as I’m married, Myrtle, this house is gone… like that.” She snapped her fingers and her mouse of a companion looked startled. “I will not live in a ramshackle, minuscule house, in this dreadful part of town.” The mouse nodded, offering her silent agreement.
She probably didn’t dare disagree! Tally thought, before realizing what the mouse had been agreeing with. When the import of those words hit Tally, she gasped.
Foster was goggle-eyed. “She thinks these houses are tiny?!” His impression of the lady’s intelligence was obviously just as tiny!
Tally didn’t like the sound of this. Who was this ill-mannered young lady?
Foster shuffled from the room and called Joseph, who came headlong up the stairs. They had a low-voiced confabulation that ended with the boy, saying “Sure thing, Mr. Foster.” Then he raced back downstairs.
Foster joined her at the window again. They watched the young boy hurry out the front door, a straw broom in his hand. He moved as close to next door as he dared and began sweeping the sidewalk.
“Look at that?” The icy beauty cast disdainful looks at Joseph. “How pedestrian.”
Her contemptuous sniff made Tally want to march down there and throttle her. “How dare she look down on Joseph for doing decent, honest work!”
“Humph! No doubt she’s still abed when her sidewalk is being cleaned!”
“Why did you send him out there to be ridiculed?” She hated to see the boy being demeaned.
“Someone has to hear who she is announced as. We probably won’t be able to hear her footman from here.” was his laconic reply.
“Ho! Very clever, you old trickster.” She patted his arm.
He looked pleased by her approval, but simply folded his arms across his chest and kept a keen watch out the window.
The lady’s footman went swiftly to the door and returned almost as rapidly. He said something to the supercilious young lady standing there tapping her toe impatiently, but his tone was a lot quieter than his mistress’ and they weren’t able to catch it. She, however, left them in no doubt about what she thought of his failed effort. “You are utterly useless, James! I’ll just have to go myself and insist they allow us inside to…” She made a to-heck-with-it gesture with her hand. “Pshaw! Who cares, anyway, I have no intention of ever living here, so why bother renovating?”
Silence resounded loudly in the watchful atmosphere of the studio. Dismay congealed the blood in Tally’s veins. Warning bells rang in her head! The only person living next door was Reed, so if that lady hadn’t mistaken the address…
“He has remembered everything, hasn’t he?” she said, looking sideways at Foster. “He couldn’t have forgotten he has a fiancé, could he?”
“Humph,” was all the reply she got, but this time it was a taut sound.
Well, what had she expected him to say? What could he say when the lady herself was outside Reed’s house loudly proclaiming it?
They followed her graceful, confident movements with their eyes as she imperiously strode the few steps it took to reach the front door. Unfortunately, from their vantage point, they were unable to see further, though the sound of her peremptory rapping of the knocker on the door indicated less ladylike manners and much annoyance.
“My footman tells me you refuse to let me in to decide how I want to renovate my betrothed’s home.” She attacked with fervor. “Rest assured you will not remain butler here once I am mistress.”
Tally’s eyebrows rose. They had no trouble hearing her. She and Foster traded astonished looks. This one had never learned that sugar works better than vinegar.
“I demand you tell me where he is,” she almost shrieked.
“I’m afraid that is impossible, madam. I myself am not privy to such information.”
Mr. Hislop, the new butler, must have been trained in the royal household to keep his sang-froid in the face of such aggression.
“Surely you must have some idea of where he is and when he’ll be returning?” Her whiny tone was not pleasant. Poor man who ended up with her!
“I’m sure I could not say, your ladyship.” The man intoned without any inflection in his voice. He moved onto the front portico, pulling the door shut as he did. He must have worried she would storm the house! They were now able to see him clearly.
Foster crowed with glee. “Woo-hoo! Good for Hislop!
Aha! Tally started to chuckle at the butler’s bland tone and face, then bit it off. There was nothing the least bit amusing about this scene. If the beautiful female at Reed’s door were to be believed, she was his fiancé! That meant he was the “poor man” who was going to end up with that witch. It meant he was not free to…
“Here, here. What seems to be the problem?”
Who was brave enough or foolish enough to interrupt her ladyship’s tantrum? Tally almost put her head out the window in an effort to see. Oh my God! Spencer! Aghast, she turned to look — open-eyed and open-mouthed — at Foster. He was as stunned as she was.
They both leaned further forward to see what would happen now. Would she annihilate Spence for daring to question her?
The beautiful blonde turned with a brilliant smile for Spence. Her eyes widened and she said in the sweetest tone, sounding as if she’d just eaten a teaspoon of honey, “I’m looking for someone, a peer, but this butler refuses to tell me where he is?”
“Who is this peer?”
“The owner of this townhouse.”
“I see. Well, I can tell you with certainty that no peer is living here at present. I know the lady who is renting it.”
Good heavens! Tally held her breath. Was he going to give her away?
“Oh. How inconvenient.” The blonde said. She stared at Spence for several silent moments. He stared right back. He seemed as taken with her as she was with him. “He,” she pointed at the attentive butler, who was all but guarding the door, “says that no one is here. So you have wasted your time in coming to visit.”
“That’s all right. I didn’t send a note ahead. I happened to be in the area and decided to give it a try.”
“Are you engaged to this lady?” She sounded almost naïve.
“No. We are merely friends.”
Oh ho! How interesting. A beautiful woman appeared to have turned Spence’s head. Maybe, now, he’d stop pestering her with his ridiculous proposals. She was all for his switching allegiances, though she wished he’d found a kinder and less pampered young lady.
“Come then. We will give you a ride back to where you live.” She still sounded imperious, but a lot nicer than before. Why Spence? Could she be genuinely interested in him or would any man do? And what about Reed, her fiancé?
The blonde marched down the stairs and out to her carriage in the street. Spence paused, glanced at the butler, who maintained his expressionless demeanor. Spence shrugged and, looking fascinated, followed her.
It was more difficult to hear them, now that they were turned toward the street, but Tally was sure she heard the young lady say, “Perhaps you would like to join me for a refreshment at a coffee house before you go home?”
My goodness, but that young lady was bent on flouting all of Society’s rules!
Spence nodded agreeably and Tally thought he said, “That would be very nice, thank you.”
Hmmm, very strange. If that high-handed young lady was engaged to Reed, why was she flirting with Spencer? And if Reed was engaged to the haughty princess, what did he want from Tally? Maybe she’d been fooling herself, thinking he, a Viscount, wanted to wed her. He’d insisted they had to talk and intimated it was about their relationship. But he’d never actually mentioned marriage again after that first time. Maybe he did want her to become that kind of friend! The thought filled her with revulsion. She’d never be any man’s mistress, not even Reed’s.
Sick at heart, she said, “I think it’s time to pack our bags for home, Foster.” She couldn’t look him in the face, his sympatheti
c understanding would probably set off a spate of tears, and the last thing she wanted right now was to start crying. She wasn’t sure she could ever stop. “We’ll leave for Evesham as soon as we’re ready, preferably tomorrow.”
“Oh but, Missy, don’t ye think we… you should wait for yon Gor... er... the Viscount? It might all be a misunderstanding.”
“Rather a colossal misunderstanding, don’t you think? And no, I don’t think we should wait. We’ve waited long enough.” She was very sure of that now. If Reed wanted to talk, he could come and find her, but if he was promised to another, then he could darn well stay here and rot! “You should be happy. You’ve been wanting to leave since we got here.”
He stayed by the window, eyes glued to the proceedings below. “She could be at the wrong house.”
“She told Spence she was looking for a peer! So it isn’t likely.” Tally held onto her patience, he was only trying to comfort her. “I’d be willing to wager that Reed is the only titled gentleman living in the neighborhood and do you seriously believe that woman would be engaged to wed a Mr. Nobody, without a title?”
She and Foster watched in amazement as Spence gallantly offered his hand to help the lady step up into the carriage and then followed her in.
“I s’pose not.” He watched the elaborate carriage depart. “But nor did she gain anything with her queenly airs. She climbed back into her chariot, with Allerton, and left… her tail between her legs.”
“If that lady has ever been cowed, I’d be very surprised. She has more arrogance in her little finger than does a duke.”
They turned toward the door as Joseph pounded up the last flight of stairs.
“Mr. Foster!” he called before even reaching the studio doorway.
“Slow down, young’un. Take a moment to catch yer breath.”
“She’s…” He gasped for air. “Lady Christabel, the daughter…” He took another quick breath to finish, “of the Duke of Archstone!”
“You see! Did I not get her measure right?” Tally was astounded that Reed was betrothed to a duke’s daughter.
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 48
