by LeFey, Liana
She didn’t buy it for a moment. “No, it’s not.” Giggling, she reached for it.
With a quiet laugh, he let her have it and watched with a pain in his heart as she disassembled it. Would that he could accept her publicly, but it would only be to her detriment if he did. That Georgina would attempt to use her as leverage to get him to the altar was a given, but though he cared for his daughter he’d never willingly tie himself to her mother. Georgina might desire him, but she didn’t love him.
As for Lillien, he’d taken the steps necessary to see her provided for through her dotage. She’d never have to marry if she didn’t desire it. Upon reaching her majority at eighteen, she would have access to the trust under the supervision of Sotheby’s solicitor. If she did wed, her husband would have none of that money upon their marriage, nor would he be able to wheedle or whip it out of her. If, God forbid, she should die before coming of age, the funds would be given in her name to a local orphanage. If she died later in life, any funds remaining would go to her daughters or granddaughters under the same conditions.
He very much doubted Lord Sotheby had made any sort of provision for his many cuckoos other than the minimal portion required by decency.
It was his hope Georgina would approve of his gift to their child and agree to forever keep the name of Lillien’s benefactor anonymous, for her own sake as well as theirs.
There could be little doubt the woman knew of his interest in Eden. Despite being cloistered by widowhood, she would’ve heard all the gossip. If all went well, she’d accept his decision and take his parting gift to Lillien as an end to what little remained of their relationship. None of them could afford for anyone to draw a firm familial line between them, as would in time surely happen if they didn’t sever their association.
The fact Georgina was sending the child to a boarding school next month would help. Once there, the girl would likely forget all about him.
A soft coo of delight sounded from beside him, and Lillien lifted up a doll gowned in frilly layers of silk and lace. “Ooooh! A friend for Louise! She’s lovely—thank you, Uncle Percy!”
He let her wrap her plump little arms around his neck, knowing it was likely the last time.
“I see you are continuing to spoil my daughter, Lord Tavistoke.”
Turning, he spied Georgina at the door. “Is it not the prerogative of an honorary uncle?”
Her wide smile belied the somber black she wore. “But of course. Honorary uncles are always permitted to spoil their honorary nieces. I’m pleased you were able to come today.”
“As am I.” Pulling out the sheaf of papers, he held them out to her. “The matters on which you sought my counsel have all been resolved, as you will see upon reviewing these. In addition, there is another document—the sealed envelope—which requires your attention.”
Georgina’s brows pinched as she lifted it from the stack.
“Lilly,” he whispered to the child sitting at his knee playing with her new dolly.
Looking up, she smiled like a tiny angel. “I have decided to call her Wendy,” she whispered back.
“That’s a lovely name,” he said with a solemn nod. “I think you should go introduce her to Louise.”
“Lillien,” said her mother absently, her eyes already scanning the document in question. “You are to go to the nursery. I must speak with Lord Tavistoke in private.”
The little girl’s eyes grew round, and her bottom lip began to tremble.
Percy reached out and patted her soft curls. “I’ll come up to say hello to everyone in a little while, I promise, but I need to speak to your mother first. Just a bit of business.”
A smile returned to the Cupid’s bow mouth, and the child rose with her new doll. “Very well.” She nodded regally, as a great queen to a lesser lord. “I shall make tea and expect you forthwith.”
He waited while Lillien left and then as Georgina read through the letter in its entirety. When she laid the document in her lap, the look on her face was one of resignation. “You are most generous,” she murmured. “I assume this is your way of resolving the matter between us?”
“There is no matter between us, Lady Sotheby.” What had happened between them was a mistake, one he’d refused to repeat despite her many attempts to do so.
The deliberate use of her married name was not missed. Her chin rose. “Of course not. I will admit I had hoped…” Her mouth tilted in a rueful smile. “I thought perhaps you might consider it after the year had passed, but I believe you’ve already set your sights on another conquest.”
“It has never been a matter of conquest,” he replied. Not for me, he added silently. He’d only taken what was freely given. “Can we agree it is done?”
She nodded slowly. “The provision you’ve made is more than adequate. I can find no fault with it.”
Relief flooded him such that it was difficult to conceal. “And you will honor the terms set forth therein?” he asked, nodding at the paper she still held.
“I will. She’ll never be told. And I’ll never tell anyone else. Regardless of what you may think of me, I love my children.”
“Madam, that has never been in question.” Silence stretched into awkwardness. He stood. “I must take my leave. May I fulfill my promise to Miss Lillien before I go?”
“You may.” Her gaze was still fixed on the document in her hands. “Shall I send you her school address so you may write her?”
He shook his head. “No. There can be no continued association without risk. For her own good, I must become a stranger to her.”
“Then this is good-bye.”
“Yes.” It was then he realized she meant more than just good-bye between him and Lillien. Though they had lain together only once, he had been much in her husband’s company over the last ten years and thus by default, hers as well. They were friends, of a sort, he supposed. “For the sake of us all, you know it must be so.”
Again she nodded. “Then…I wish you well,” she said, looking up at last. Her eyes were alarmingly moist. “I wish I had met you first,” she blurted before covering her mouth with a shaking hand.
Damn. There was nothing he could say without digging himself into a hole from which there might be no getting out. Steeling himself, he nodded shortly. “I wish you well, also, madam.”
Bowing, he turned and strode through the door before anything further could be said. Taking the steps up to the nursery, he almost wished he hadn’t promised to visit Lilly again. The sooner he left, the better.
“Uncle Percy!”
He knelt and swept her up into his arms one last time, smiling down into her laughing eyes, eyes so like his own. “I hear you’re going to school next month.”
She nodded as he put her down. “It’s very far away, but Mama says I shall love it there—even though I won’t be a princess like I am here. But there will be other girls for me to play with instead of only mean brothers.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I shall miss Mama and Sir Brushbotham, but I’m afraid I shan’t miss my brothers very much at all. Mama says it’s shameful for me to say so, but I don’t really think they shall miss me, either.”
“And what of Sir Brushbotham?” he asked, laughing. “Is he not to go along with you?”
She shook her head, making her curls bounce, and her bottom lip again quivered. “They won’t allow it. I will see him only on holidays when I come to visit. Mama says he is too fat from my tea parties and will have to earn his keep hunting mice while I am away. But I know she is only teasing because Cook already promised to feed him plenty of fish and pet him every day. I shall miss Cook, too.”
Sir Brushbotham at that moment chose to appear and rub his furry bulk against Percy’s shins, leaving behind a swath of white fuzz.
“Sir Brushbotham will become a fine mouser, I’m sure,” he lied. “I must go now, poppet.”
“Will I see you again?”
It was the question he’d dreaded. Ambiguity would leave no room for assumption—or a
broken promise. “I’m sure of it, though it may not be for some time. Until then, you must promise to do your very best in school, mind your teachers, and never forget you are a princess even if it must remain a secret.” He bent and gave her tiny hand a gentle squeeze. “You will know it in your heart, and that is what counts.”
Nodding, she put up her wobbly chin and curtsied. It was a very good curtsy for an almost-six-year-old. “I will. Good-bye, Uncle Percy.”
Bowing as if she were the queen, he smiled and took his leave—quickly. A clean, unemotional break was best. For them both.
He was amazed to feel pain at the parting. He’d not been close to the child, and nor had he any hand in raising her—at least not until today. God willing, she would never know about it, or that she was anything but the beloved and only daughter of Lord and Lady Sotheby.
Fortune smiled on him, and he managed to escape without encountering Lady Sotheby again. As he stepped into the gray rain curtain outside he paused and took a deep breath, heedless of the damp creeping in around his collar. Provided the lady kept her word and honored their agreement, this was one chapter of his life he could count closed.
…
Eden drifted through the ballroom at Percy’s Leicester Square residence, at once delighted to be in his home and annoyed his duties as host had kept him too busy to attend her. Catherine, who walked beside her in stony silence, was no doubt feeling the exact opposite on both counts.
Ravenwood was here, as Percy had predicted. The man had not yet come to greet her, which was doubtless adding to her stepmother’s agitation. Perhaps he felt it would be inappropriate to actively pursue her on his rival’s turf? Regardless of the reason, Eden was grateful.
There were a number of people here with whom she was unfamiliar and others she’d seen before but knew not. One in particular stood out to her, a man carrying a rather ragged brown leather portfolio under his arm. She remembered seeing him at the Sheffield ball, but they hadn’t been introduced.
His eyes followed her wherever she went. She knew this because he looked away every time she glanced in his direction. Every now and again, he appeared to be making notations of some sort in his book.
It was disconcerting to be under such scrutiny, and she told Percy about it as soon as he came to her. “Is he an acquaintance of yours or Ravenwood’s spy?”
“Mine,” he said, seeming a bit embarrassed. “Please pardon his rudeness—he’s a bit of an eccentric, I’m afraid.” He favored her with a warm smile. “Having said it, I cannot fault him for staring at you. You are an enchanting vision.”
“You are kind to say it.” His compliment warmed her. The effort she’d put into her appearance had not been in vain.
“I am but truthful,” he countered, a bit of mischief in his smile. “Come, I shall introduce you to the gentleman who’s been eyeing you all afternoon.” As they walked, he leaned closer to whisper, “I suppose you’ve also noticed our friend lurking in the corners?”
She nodded. “My stepmother is convinced he intends to sever ties with us simply because he greeted us with brevity. She’s in a state of near panic.”
His smile turned wolfish. “The wise man knows when he’s in enemy territory and at a disadvantage. He’ll bide his time and wait for a better opportunity. For now, he watches and observes both his opponent and his quarry.” His words brought her no comfort, and it must have shown on her face, for his manner gentled. “Eden, you’ve nothing to fear. I will speak to him and make him see reason.”
She wasn’t so sure. Before she could ask him anything further, however, they had arrived before his friend. Even now, he was scribbling away in his notebook, oblivious to all else around him.
“Will?”
The man looked up, startled. “Tavistoke. I beg your pardon—I did not even mark your approach.”
“Will, may I introduce my dear friend Miss Eden Lowther. Miss Lowther, this is Mister William Hogarth, my good friend and neighbor.”
Bowing, Mister Hogarth beamed in apparent delight. “I am your humble servant, madam. How do you do this fine day?”
“Quite well, thank you, Mister Hogarth,” she answered, curtsying to his bow. She eyed the leather folio, which he’d tucked up under his arm again.
“Will is an artist,” murmured Percy at her ear. “A very gifted one.”
His other guest pinked with pleasure. “You pay me too high a compliment, my lord.”
“Nonsense,” insisted Percy, waving away his objection. “I must bring her to your studio one day to see your work. Then we shall let her form her own opinion. Doubtless it will mirror my own.”
Curiosity pricked her. “Are you sketching, Mister Hogarth?”
Ruddy color suffused the man’s face. “I’m afraid it is a compulsion, madam,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I cannot bear to leave my house without at least carrying the barest of tools needed to preserve a moment.”
“May I see?” she asked meekly.
The red in his cheeks deepened. “These are hardly worth a glance, I’m afraid. Just scratching at this point.” When she did not withdraw her request, he peeked into the folio and dug around for a moment before pulling out a very rough sketch of the ballroom section in front of them. Several rudimentary outlines of men and women crowded the page, as well as crude lines giving the room depth and perspective.
“You have captured the scene entirely,” she murmured in awe. A few of the people depicted had faces drawn in, but most were blank. Her gaze lingered over one. “That’s me, is it not?” Beside her was a tall figure that looked a great deal like Percy. “And Lord Tavistoke, just there.”
The man looked faintly ill as he nodded. “I can erase it if you prefer.”
She looked at him, horrified. “Of course not! I’m delighted to have been a subject of your skill. To my knowledge, I have never before been drawn by anyone. Papa has never seen fit to have a portrait made of our family.” She smiled at him, infusing the gesture with as much warmth as she dared with Percy standing near. “I like to think that this will perhaps remain to preserve the memory of me when I am one day gone.”
Mister Hogarth instantly brightened. “Then I’ll be happy to see it brought to completion. When it is finished, I’ll send it to you to keep as a memento of this day.”
A painting of her with Percy was a gift her parents would ill appreciate, but she would have it nonetheless. Perhaps it would serve as further impetus for them to accept him as her choice. “I would be honored, Mister Hogarth.”
Percy looked a little less than pleased with the man’s impulsive offer, but he nodded. “Perhaps it would be better if you allowed me to present it in your stead,” he suggested to Hogarth. “I’ll say I commissioned the work—and it will be truth because as of now I’m doing just that. Three scenes from today’s party to commemorate the event, this being one of them.”
Mister Hogarth’s eyes widened. “I’m happy to oblige.” He addressed Eden again. “And a lovelier subject for this one I cannot imagine. It will be my great pleasure to paint you, Miss Lowther.”
Lips twitching with amusement, she bowed her head in acquiescence, marking Percy’s vexed sigh. Surely he was not jealous? Of a painter?
“Please excuse us, my friend,” said Percy abruptly. “I believe the lady’s guardian is looking for her.”
“Ah, yes.” The man bowed and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Of course.”
Seeing Percy’s nervous glance to the right, Eden suddenly understood. His having introduced her to an artisan might not be looked upon with parental approval. “A pleasure meeting you, Mister Hogarth,” she said, dipping a quick curtsy before turning to allow the man a dignified retreat.
Indeed, coming toward them was Catherine, a sour look on her face. “Eden, come with me. I want to introduce you to Miss Deering. She is eager to meet you.”
Not a word of greeting to their host, who took the slight with stoic equanimity.
“Yes, of course,” Eden replied, her tone
meek. As she turned, she caught a smile flickering at the corners of Percy’s mouth. She returned it briefly before being all but dragged away.
“I realize we are in his home, but that does not mean you must remain at his side the entire time,” groused her stepmother. “Leave him to attend his other guests.”
Eden repressed a snort at the weak excuse and allowed herself to be shepherded through the crowd. Her chaperone’s destination was at least, thankfully, not Ravenwood but a group of young women including her friend Genevieve.
After being introduced to Miss Deering, who seemed somewhat less eager than Catherine would have her believe, she and Genevieve managed to escape and find a quiet corner in which to converse.
“Your stepmother is all but reaching for her smelling salts every time she sees you with him,” observed her friend.
“I’m afraid she’ll be needing them a lot more, then.”
“Oh?”
Eden couldn’t help smiling. “If you think for one moment I’m going to marry Ravenwood…”
“Have you come up with a plan to prevent it?”
“Indeed we have, and I believe it is just about to be put into action.” She nodded to their left where Percy stood before Ravenwood in conversation. Her heart began to pound as the men turned and departed the room together. A noise beside her reminded her she was not alone. “I just hope it works.”
“What works?” asked Genevieve. “What is he doing?”
“I believe he is staking his claim,” Eden announced proudly.
“Then he has proposed to you?”
Damn! Turning, she faced Genevieve. “He has not made any formal offer,” she lied. “But we have an understanding. My stepmother’s objections and this business with Ravenwood have only delayed the inevitable.”
“You are in love with him, then.”
Panic. “I—”
“Miss Lowther?”
She looked up in surprise to see Ravenwood standing there. “Yes?” Her face must be as red as a beet. How much could he have heard with them whispering in this crowded room? He looked distinctly uncomfortable, but whether it was a result of his conversation with Percy or something he’d just overheard, she could not tell.
