She clasped his beloved face between her hands, and tried to express what she was feeling. “That was so beautiful... beyond words...”
“Ah... my love.” He dropped a soft, yet fervent kiss on her lips. “You take my breath away. If we had made love when my memory was gone, I would have immediately known you were a counterfeit wife, my darling, because no man, not even one without a memory, could ever have forgotten being with you like this, experiencing these unbelievably enticing... extraordinary... enthralling moments with you!”
Epilogue
“Not bad, are they?” There was a hard edge to Reed’s tone.
“Not bad? My good man, these are amazing! How…” Wendal Lawton, paused, as if just now realizing how incredible they were. He’d never paid much attention to Tally, had more or less ignored her, in fact. She didn’t paint, so of what interest could she be to him? “But why? Why did she hide her talent all these years?” The renowned artist was clearly shocked at his youngest child’s talent. Maybe even a bit envious, now that his skills were waning in his sunset years.
“Perhaps she wanted to be loved for herself, rather than for her talent?” Reed knew there was no point in explaining Tally’s reasons for keeping her abilities secret. But he couldn’t help himself, even if her father would never understand. When Lawton returned only a puzzled look, Reed shrugged and left the older man studying his daughter’s paintings with a jealous eye.
Reed moved through the crowd, looking for his wife.
Today was their second wedding anniversary and he had surprised Tally with their very own art gallery, which he’d named “The Spare Rib”. Tonight was its private opening, an exclusive showing of her paintings. He’d only invited family and friends this first night, because he hadn’t discussed with her about going public and showing her paintings under her own name.
Only because he’d wanted this to be a surprise. He knew how much it bothered her to sign a man’s name to her art, so didn’t expect her to object to this daring move of his. He was so proud of her. He wanted everyone to know how talented she was. He was sure her paintings would succeed no matter what the gender of the artist.
To his surprise, the name of the gallery was exciting a lot of comment among his friends, the Spares. He was gratified so many of them had come, even if the lot of them were claiming he had pinched the name from their Brotherhood. They seemed flattered and were taking it as a compliment. He hadn’t the heart to tell them he’d never even thought of them when he’d chosen the name. He’d had an older, more biblical origin in mind!
“I’m telling you, Jace, soon it will become le dernier cri.” Max loved an audience and with so many Spares there tonight to egg him on, he was in fine fettle. “Spare cafés will be springing up in every town, Spare modiste shops, Spare apothecaries... Why I wouldn’t be surprised to find Spare taverns! Though, I wouldn’t be pleased if they were to spare the drinks in there!
He grinned at the collective groans from the men listening to his levity. It only encouraged him to continue. “Or what about a Spare brothel?” He peeked around quickly to make sure no woman had joined their circle. “Would the women all have to be spare? Heaven forbid they spare us their company? And one hopes they’d be unsparing in seeing to our pleasure.”
By now the men, including Reed’s brothers were snorting and, given the venue, were trying not to erupt into ribald laughter at Max’s drolleries. Jace, standing back a little from the circle, rolled his eyes when he turned to greet Reed.
Reed chuckled at his friend’s reaction. Then, under cover of their laughter, he said, “Olvin isn’t here?”
“No, he’s in France. He was so dismayed by his step-brother’s astonishing escape, that he’s come out of retirement to help recapture him. He’s hell bent on making sure Traubridge doesn’t remain on the loose.”
“So where does that leave you?” As expected, Jace had taken over the clandestine group of men who called themselves the Chief’s Crew. “It can’t be comfortable having your old boss back in the field.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m grateful, in fact. There are so many cases lately that I’m glad to have him back to lead the Traubridge investigation.” Jace’s sincerity was obvious. “He’s already fully-informed on the matter, so it leaves me free to take care of the far-too-many other investigations that have fallen into our laps. I keep telling you, there’s so much work, I could use your help.”
“Sorry, my friend. One lengthy investigation was my limit. I’m an artist, not a warrior. I’ve always told you. I’d rather make art... and love... than war any day.” Reed laughed aloud at his marriage-shy friend’s grimace and, after patting Jace on the back, he moved on to the next group, this one comprising his wife’s family.
“But why didn’t she tell us?” Venetia sounded hurt. “We would have been happy to help her get on her feet.”
Hargrave put a consoling arm around her. She leaned closer, accepting her spouse’s comfort.
“Precisely why she didn’t tell you.” At their stunned looks, Reed glanced around and explained, “Haven’t you noticed how independent your little sister is? She didn’t want to become part of the family extravaganza. She’s quiet, so you assumed she mustn’t be talented.” He lifted his hand to silence their protests, “I know. I know you love her... in your own ways...” He directed a contemptuous look at the twins before continuing. “She doesn’t like a big fuss the way you do. Too much fanfare embarrasses her. You mistook that for lack of talent, but you were wrong.”
“Fah! Completely wrong!” Venetia had recovered her fire and was generous with her praise. “It’s hard to believe she is Paul Vernet Hill! She is the best of all of us!”
“Not better than Father!” Tony exclaimed.
“Maybe even that.” Though Venetia lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder when she said that.
“I agree and I expect her family to stand behind her when it comes out tomorrow that she is Vernet Hill, last year’s great art sensation. Your public support will mean a lot to her.” He directed a stern look at the twins.
Had Reed followed his own preferences, the twins wouldn’t have been invited this evening. Selfish twits! They’d stolen and spent Tally’s money and caused her untold trials! But, now that she was settled and happy herself, he knew that his soft-hearted wife would have been saddened if her brothers had been left out, despite their dishonest antics. He wasn’t, however, prepared to let them forget what they’d done and was making it clear they’d never get the chance to make her unhappy again. Not with him around.
“Naturalmente! We are proud to support Talia.” Her mother was nodding vigorously and sending meaningful looks at her boys.
Reed was pleased to see this. Too bad she’d taken so long to act and demand they behave. Tally’s life during those four years when her parents deserted her, had not been easy. At least her mother had come round in time to make the twins pay back every penny they’d taken. Although she no longer needed the money, his wife hoped it would prove a salutary lesson for her brothers in the future.
“Impressive initiative, Selwich,” Morley commended as he joined them. He was accompanied by the Duke of Merriman and Lady Lawton. “I’ve already spotted a few I want to add to my collection.”
“I’ve told him he’ll have to wait until I get my pick first,” Tally’s grandmother said. “It’s amazing to see so many of Talia’s pieces in one place. Do I gather from the name of your gallery that you intend to display women’s art exclusively?” Lady Lawton sounded approving, as well she might. His wife’s strong independent streak had been fostered by her Great Aunt Ida and her identical twin, Lady Eva Lawton.
There were protests from the male Lawton’s who had obviously been looking forward to their chance to display their work in the center of London.
“In fact, I’ve already booked a woman artist for next month,” he winked at Milana, who was being uncharacteristically quiet.
Venetia turned on her, “You knew!”
“No! Not about Talia’s talent! And I only found out about the gallery when Selwich approached me last week to offer me the opportunity to show my paintings.” She patted her older sister’s arm consolingly. “Talia told him you haven’t been doing much painting lately because the strong smells of paint and turpentine are upsetting your stomach. Once il bambino is born, you’ll be able to work again, just like after the first two. Then you can put together your own show. Right?” She looked at Reed, wanting him to placate her sister.
“Of course. Family first.” He looked across the room and saw Monsieur Moreau and Gaston Beauclaire arriving. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go find the guest of honor.”
It took time to make it across the room because he was stopped by many who wanted to congratulate him on his new venture and his talented wife.
“Son, you must be proud of yourself tonight. Looks to be a fine success!” His father sounded jovial but there was a forced tenor to his good-humor. He was looking uncomfortable. Reed’s mother must have had to exert a lot of forceful persuasion to get the Earl here. She gave Reed a triumphant smile as she released him from her warm hug.
They were standing in front of a painting Tally had done of him, in his studio, standing in front of his easel painting. She’d captured him as he was distracted from his work and was looking at her. He loved this painting and had placed a “Not for Sale” sign on it, but he’d had to include it because it was one of her best.
“Talia’s work is remarkable, dear. I had no idea.” She sounded envious and now Reed understood why. Just this past week, when he’d told her about this new venture — the only other person he’d told about his surprise for Tally — she’d finally showed him her own portfolio of sketches and several paintings she’d done before his father had discouraged her from continuing.
“It will be your turn, next, to show yours.” His mother meant under his own name, since she well knew he had been displaying and selling his art for years under a pseudonym. She glanced sideways at his father and stared down his angry look. She’d always been supportive of her eldest’s creative outlet. Now he was returning the favor, encouraging her to begin again. She thought she was too old, but he’d insisted she wasn’t and, if it made her happy, she should do it. But she hadn’t yet divulged her renewed pastime to his father. Perhaps now would be a good time.
Reed looked pointedly at her, but she quickly shook her head. Ah, well, it might take awhile, but he knew it was only a matter of time. His father would no doubt resist at first, but in the end he’d come round. He loved her too much to want her to be unhappy.
Reed looked around the crowded room for Tally. Ah... there she was, with her mentor.
“Now, I have hosting duties to attend to.” He leaned over to drop a quick kiss on his mother’s cheek. “Make sure you come say goodbye before you leave.”
He headed straight for Tally and arrived to hear an effusive Beauclaire extolling her paintings. Monsieur, on the other hand, seemed more interested in a gallery opening expressly to display women artists’ work.
“What a marvelous idea, Selwich! Innovative! I wonder why no one has thought of doing this before!” Monsieur was effervescent with pleasure and pride that his secret protégée was finally receiving her due.
“Fantastique!” was Beauclaire’s succinct appraisal. “And Madame, may I say that your work is incredibly good for one so young. Antoine has been telling me for years, but now that I see it... merveilleux!” He kissed his fingertips and opened his hand to toss the kiss gaily up into the air, a European gesture meaning, “Wonderful!”
Reed laughed when his wife blushed. He reached for her hand and squeezed encouragingly.
“Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Beauclaire, your good opinion means more than most,” Tally said, thankful Reed had come to stand by her. She was overwhelmed by her husband’s surprise gift. He’d lured her here, saying he had heard of a new art gallery that was showing a woman artist’s paintings. He’d neglected to tell her the gallery was his and that she was the artist whose paintings were being shown!
It had been a splendid evening, but now she was ready for some quiet and, especially, to sit down and rest. Everyone wanted to talk to her... or interrogate her, in the case of her family! And she was all talked out and her feet hurt. She wanted to be alone with her husband. To thank him for his thoughtful and astonishing surprise.
“Mebbe you’d like to sit down for a bit, Missy.” Foster and Hislop were overseeing the event and her dear friend had been preening like a peacock all evening, looking prouder of Tally than anyone else here, except for Reed.
“Thank you, Foster, I think that’s a fine idea.” She kept hold of Reed’s hand as the three of them moved out the main door of the reception room to enter a smaller sitting room.
“You sit down and I’ll bring ye some tea.”
“Not champagne, Foster?” she teased him.
“Not likely, Missy, you’ve got to start taking better care of yerself.” He gave her an admonishing look before shuffling off to fetch her some refreshment.
“I thought you weren’t going to tell anyone?” Reed didn’t seem annoyed, just curious.
“I’ve told no one.” She smiled, thinking how typical it was that the old dear had guessed.
“What have I got myself into?” Reed quipped, a frequent refrain of his since their marriage.
Like her, he’d known it was only a matter of time before “the triumvirate”, as they privately called them, worked it out. Foster, Mrs. P and Hislop formed a powerful threesome. Together, there was very little that escaped their notice. At Tally’s urgings, Foster had agreed to live in the perfect cottage Reed had spoken of on his estate, and the old soldier surprised them all by inviting Mrs. P to share it with him, as his bride! Their wedding had been a small but joyous occasion. Tally had been so happy to know her dearest protector was going to have someone he cherished sharing his retirement.
Now if only he’d agree to retire! He and Mrs. P even accompanied them to London during the Season! But Tally couldn’t really complain. Foster wasn’t yet ready to give up watching over her, and she was glad of that. She’d have missed him hovering close by, making sure she was well looked after. For now, she was content to begin lessening his load. Although, knowing him, she feared his protective instincts were about to double.
With an amused smile, Reed shook his head knowingly. He grabbed a footstool and, smoothly lifting her legs with his other arm, placed it in front of her for her to rest her feet on.
She was lucky to have such an understanding husband. Another man might have been jealous of her close relationship with Foster. But, not only did Reed never attempt to separate them, he actively included the old butler in their lives. He’d even taken the triumvirate into his confidence about this surprise, before anyone else. Mrs. P was in charge of catering for it, along with the ample kitchen staff he’d hired to help her manage their kitchens.
Tally couldn’t believe how well her life was turning out, after almost ending abruptly in that Abbey. Her amazing husband sat beside her on the sofa and leaned in for a soft kiss. The door opened and, this time, he stayed with the kiss despite Foster’s voluble “ahem.” After all, they were married now. They didn’t need to skulk about and worry about her self-appointed guardian’s stomping feet.
“Humph!” They heard. “I’ll just be going to help Hislop hurry these folks on their way, so they don’t think to stay all night, shall I? You’ll be needing yer sleep.” The firm click of the door told them he’d gone. They parted, looked at each other and collapsed, laughing, into each other’s arms.
Later, after they’d bid their guests goodnight and had gone home themselves, Tally let the feelings she’d been holding in abeyance free. “I feel terrible. I gave you nothing but a painting.” Her voice trembled. “Whereas, your gift... Well, I can’t imagine a better anniversary gift!”
“I can.” His eyes spoke volumes as he bent and murmured in her ear, “and you gave it to me last nigh
t.” He ran his hand fondly over her stomach.
“Yes, but that’s a gift we gave to ourselves.” Having a little Reed to join them had become her fondest wish. “Tonight,” she gestured in the air. “inviting all of my family to see my art, that is beyond words, Reed. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll wager you do.”
“Be serious. I’m trying to thank you for being the best husband, the best partner and the best friend a woman could have.”
He drew took her into his arms and leaning his forehead against hers said, “The day you shot me was the luckiest of my life.”
“Be serious, Reed.”
“I am as serious as can be. I am forever grateful you became my counterfeit wife, but even more thankful you are now my true wife, my companion for life.”
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The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 53
