Evading the Duke

by Jane Charles

  She breathed out a sigh of relief, though she’d never know if he showed it to anyone or not.

  “However, it will remain in my collection because I enjoy gazing upon it.”

  Jillian lowered her face into her hands and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, panic, and humiliation. Short of sailing to Barbados, there was nothing she could do.

  She lifted her chin and let her cool mask fall back into place. She’d shown him too much already and given him the power to hurt her, and she needed to take all of it back now. “Thank you.” She stood. “I will take my leave.” With that, she sailed out of the room without a backward glance. Forcing one foot in front of the other, despite how much her legs trembled and her heart beat. If it became any stronger, it would push right through her chest. She needed to get home and into the privacy of her chambers before that happened or she’d collapsed into a puddle of tears.

  Chapter 5

  Sam had just arrived at Felding’s townhouse and taken a seat when Lady Jillian was announced. He and Fielding had barely discussed the painting, only when he had purchased it, before she burst into the room. He’d never seen anyone run the gauntlet of emotions in such a short frame of time. From anger, betrayal, cold calculation, pain, embarrassment, to cool resignation, before she marched out of the room, wearing pride as if it was a cloak to be donned when necessary.

  “There is more than one painting?” he asked Felding after she was gone.

  “My sister has one in her collection.”

  “How many are there?” He thought he was lucky to have one, but after seeing how distressed Lady Jillian was, he wished to purchase them all so she’d know they were gone.

  Felding shrugged. “I’ve no idea. We thought that was the last.”

  “You thought?” Had they been discovered by others? Was that why nobody had married her? If they were out in Society, unless the ton had changed in the past five years, Lady Jillian wouldn’t be welcomed in homes. Then again, her father was a duke and maybe that made all the difference. “Who else has one?” Also, for some reason, he did not like the idea of any other gentlemen looking upon a portrait similar to his. From the moment he saw it, he’d thought of the painting and the lady as his, and his alone.

  “Nobody that we are aware of. That was why Lady Jillian was so shocked when you mentioned it.” Felding strode to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to Samuel.

  “Maybe you should explain why there are so many portraits of Lady Jillian, and if they are similar to the one I own, what possessed her to do such a thing?”

  Felding stared at him and then he frowned as he settled into the seat across from Sam. “It’s not for me to tell.”

  “Clearly, this has been an issue before,” Samuel countered and then remembered something else she’d said. “Why would the Valentines, or you, hate Lady Jillian?”

  This time Felding frowned deeper. “If you wish for those answers, you should discuss them with Lady Jillian.”

  Samuel wasn’t so certain she’d speak to him again, not that he wasn’t going to pursue her.

  “Lady Jillian is a complicated woman.” Felding sighed and took a drink. “At one time I believed her to be kind and sweet, but after a time I saw her as manipulative and cold.”

  Samuel had picked up on none of that. Yes, she had shown cool disdain toward him, but it was no more than a shield a knight wore going into battle. If she really were so cold, there would not be so much vulnerability in the depths of her blue eyes. Felding had it wrong.

  “I now believe she is more afraid and shielded than anything else, and that’s why she responds the way she does.”

  That Samuel did believe. Especially after what he overheard the evening before. “She’s not happy,” Sam finally said.

  “I doubt she ever will be.”

  Thank goodness her brother arrived as requested. Jillian tried to ask little of Henry, but when she needed to escape, he was the only one she could call upon. At the moment, she desperately needed an escape.

  After leaving Felding’s yesterday, she’d returned home, sequestered herself in her chambers, then begged off attending any functions last evening, claiming a headache. In truth, she was terrified of seeing Mr. Storm. With everyone else, she was cool and calm as she should be, but he flustered her, and knowing he had one of the paintings, made her all the more wary. If she didn’t tread lightly, he might very well change his mind and announce her scandalous error to the world.

  Oh, she wanted to trust him, but how could she? She didn’t even know him. She’d trusted the kind eyes of a man before and that had ended up in destruction.

  Tonight she’d remain at home again, not because she wished it, but because her father would be meeting with his cronies. However, tomorrow night the Earl of Bentley and his wife were holding a ball, and her father had ordered that she would attend unless she was at death’s door. As that was nearly impossible to fake, Jillian resigned herself to attending another function as her father pestered her with orders about decorum and listing those she was allowed to dance with.

  As the day wore on, a very real headache developed and Jillian knew if she did not escape the mansion, her head might very well explode.

  “What are you doing here?” Father barked when Henry walked into the room.

  “Good day to you too, Father.” He turned to Jillian. “I thought you might wish to walk in the park.”

  She stood. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”

  “Watch that she doesn’t embarrass me again,” Father ordered. “Her judgment is not to be trusted, nor am I confident yours can be either.”

  His words cut her, but Jillian was used to hearing them. One mistake when she was sixteen had relegated her to a simpleton who could no longer make decisions for herself, and for each year that passed that she didn’t marry, Father became more difficult to live with and his words crueler to hear.

  Every muscle in Jillian’s body relaxed once she was free from her father and his mansion.

  Henry chuckled. “Is he still angry over your waltzing with Storm the other evening?”

  “If only it were that simple.” She sighed and allowed him to hand her up into his phaeton.

  Her brother jumped into the driver’s seat and took hold of the reins. “I’m sorry. I should not have answered for you the other evening.” He cast a look from the corner of his eye. “I plan on calling on Felding to learn if his sister sold the painting,” Henry announced. “And then call on Mr. Storm to learn what I can. I should have before now, but it is a delicate topic and I’ve been deciding how best to approach the matter, especially if it is one of those from your past.”

  “It is.” Tears welled, but she quickly blinked them away. “He purchased it three years ago in New Orleans.”

  Henry stiffened. “When did you learn this?”

  Jillian quickly explained that she couldn’t stand the wondering and worrying and went directly to Felding, only to encounter Mr. Storm.

  Her brother relaxed and nodded. “Then there is nothing to worry about, is there?”

  “How can you even say that?” she cried. “He owns one of them. Oh, I wish they could all be gathered up and burned.”

  “That I do not doubt,” he said dryly as they pulled into Hyde Park. “I know Storm. He’s not the type of person who would do something to intentionally embarrass another. And, as there is nothing that can be done, put them from your mind.”

  It was easy for him to say. Nobody had a portrait of him barely clad in clothing lounging about. What a fool she’d been.

  “Do you care to walk or do you prefer to ride?”

  If her father was here, he’d insist on riding, especially sitting up so high where he could look down on society. It was probably his favorite activity. “I’d like to walk.”

  After securing the reins to a post Henry assisted her to the ground and offered his arm. “Try to enjoy the day, Jillian. There is no point in worrying about something you have no contro
l over.”

  “Father isn’t intent on running your life and picking your bride while another gentleman holds a scandalous portrait of you. As well-meaning as your advice, it’s not easy to accept.” She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “Why hasn’t he demanded you marry? You are responsible for the next heir.”

  He grinned. “Oh, he has, but I still have not found a woman that I could love who is also so unsuitable that Father would have an apoplexy.”

  At least he had some control in thwarting Father, whereas she had none.

  “If only I had the same options as you.” She sighed.

  “Perhaps you do.” Henry nodded, and she glanced over to find Mr. Samuel Storm approaching with two young ladies on his arms and another following in their wake.

  Chapter 6

  “Thank you for bringing us to the park,” his sister Hannah said for the fifth time since they left the townhouse.

  “Being with Mother was simply unbearable,” added Tabitha.

  “If she had it her way, we’d not leave the house at all for fear of running into Danby,” added Deborah.

  “Don’t worry about mother or our great uncle. Neither Ben, Nate, nor I will allow either of them to manipulate you into a marriage you don’t want.”

  “That’s fine and good for now,” complained Hannah. “You’ll be off to Barbados at the end of the Season, and Nate will probably leave for shores unknown, leaving only Ben to interfere.”

  “He’s only one gentleman against mother,” insisted Deborah. “We can’t count on Peter to ever be of assistance.” Peter was their twenty-four year old brother who remained scarce. Sam had barely seen him since he’d arrived in London. Not that he blamed the chap. All three of the bachelor sons avoided the household unless necessary.

  “The odds are stacked against Ben,” sighed Tabitha.

  Though Sam would like to remain and watch out for his sisters, he could not be away from his plantation for months on end. He’d already been gone four months. His estate manager could run things in his absence, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be gone for the potential years it could take to marry off his sisters, even if they should have married by now.

  Hannah was two and twenty and Tabitha was twenty, yet mother was scared to death that if they did marry, they’d move to the opposite end of England, and she wouldn’t be near enough to interfere with their lives.

  Not that Mother considered it interference, she just wanted her family close so she could care for them, which was the other reason Sam preferred Barbados over England. Only one of his sisters had married so far, and she lived only fifteen miles from the family estate, which suited their mother perfectly.

  His younger sisters would just need to learn to handle Mother on their own. He had more pressing matters, such as when he could see Lady Jillian again. He couldn’t call on her because no doubt the duke would send him away, but if he could manage to attend the same functions, he might just have another opportunity to dance and speak with her.

  Thoughts of Lady Jillian churned in his mind while he blocked out the complaining of his sisters, but then Sam saw her walking towards them on the arm of her brother.

  Her eyes met his and all color drained from her face and a flash of panic lit in her eyes.

  Despite his assurance, Lady Jillian did not trust that he would hold her confidence. “There is someone I must greet,” he said, practically pulling his sisters along in his wake.

  Lady Jillian and Broadridge stopped at their approach, and Sam was quick to make the introductions to his sisters before turning to Lady Jillian. “Might we walk for a moment?”

  Looks of surprise flashed upon his sisters’ faces, and a spark of approval lit in Broadridge’s eyes.

  Lady Jillian glanced to her brother, almost as if asking permission. He inclined his head. “I’ll keep your sisters occupied, Storm,” Broadridge said as he sent them off.

  Samuel turned down a path that led through some bushes, putting as much distance between them and the crowd as they could while still remaining in sight. Once he was assured they could not be overheard, he turned and looked down into her troubled blue eyes. “Are you going to panic every time you see me?”

  “You have something that could ruin me.” Jillian fully expected a demand for his silence. Mr. Storm assured her that he would not, but after a full day of thinking on the subject, she assumed he’d changed his mind. Anyone else wouldn’t hesitate to use blackmail in some manner.

  “Which I would never do.”

  “How can I know you wouldn’t? Your word?” She practically laughed.

  He grasped her hands in his. “What can I do to assure you?”

  She studied his face and eyes. The sincerity was there, but she was also no fool, and there was only one thing he could do to make her trust him. “After you return home, ship the painting to me so that it can be destroyed.”

  He straightened and let her hands drop. “That I will never do.”

  “Then we have nothing further to say to one another.” Jillian turned on her heel, intending to march back to her brother.

  “And you’ll spend the rest of your life tying your stomach in knots while waiting for the painting to become public.”

  She paused at his words. Simply waiting for the other shoe to drop would see her in Bedlam. There must be a way to get the painting away from him. For a moment she contemplated hiring someone to steal it, but then the thief would see the painting, and if she couldn’t trust Mr. Storm, she certainly couldn’t trust a thief.

  “Do you want to know why I purchased that painting in the first place?”

  Her face heated. If it were one of the risqué ones, she already knew.

  He took a step closer, and she glanced up at him over her shoulder.

  “I’m not going to lie and say that the goddess reclining on the fainting couch wasn’t what first drew my attention.”

  Oh dear, he had one of the last ones painted. When she’d let her guard down and trusted Nico. Blindly trusted.

  Mr. Storm stepped in front of her as he spoke. “From the long, shapely leg to the mouthwatering bodice, adorned with a small crescent mark upon the right breast.”

  She swallowed, wishing to run, but the huskiness of his tone, and darkening of those green eyes held her in place.

  “The body captivated me. Inspired lust, if I may be so bold, but that isn’t the reason I had to have it.”

  Not only was her face heating, but her entire body warmed. Shivers ran down her spine as her bodice grew tight. What was it about Samuel Storm, the low timber of his voice and intense emerald eyes that made her want to launch herself into his arms?

  “It wasn’t even the beautiful face that I have the honor of gazing upon now.”

  He really did think her beautiful?

  “I don’t know why you posed or who the artist was. It makes no difference to me because he captured something that has haunted me since.”

  “What?”

  “Your eyes.”

  She blinked at him. Her eyes were blue. No different than anyone else’s blue eyes, which were quite common in England.

  “Eyes so full of emotion, a glimpse into the soul.” He took another step toward her, yet Jillian could not move away, caught up in the intensity of his voice. “Innocence, seduction, spirit, vulnerability, rebellion, and sadness all converging.” He smiled. “I’ve spent years wondering which emotion would emerge the strongest.” He brought a hand up and cradled her cheek. “It pains me to learn that it was sadness, above all, that won.”

  Chapter 7

  She simply stared at him, eyes wide with shock and her beguiling mouth parted in surprise. If they weren’t standing in the middle of this blasted park he would kiss her so thoroughly that she’d understand why he was not about to give up that painting and just how badly he wanted her.

  He let his hand drop before he slid his palm behind her head and lowered his mouth to hers. “What functions are you attending tonight?”

&nb
sp; She blinked as her eyebrows drew together before she shook her head, as if coming out of a trance. Oh, if only he had the power to mesmerize her.

  “I’m staying in,” she finally answered.

  “Might I call on you?”

  Her eyes widened with fear and she took a step back. “Goodness, no.”

  “Is that because you don’t wish for me to court you?”

  “Court?”

  He grinned. He’d fully shocked her, which he found delightful indeed. “Yes. Court. I’d like to come to know the lady I’ve been obsessing over for the past three years.”

  “You truly wish to court me?” Her brow furrowed and she frowned, as if she didn’t believe him.

  “Surely I am not the first gentleman to wish to do so?” Why was she so surprised?

  Lady Jillian narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “To what purpose?”

  “Why can’t you believe it is simply because I wish to know you better?”

  “Because nobody ever has. I’m just a means to an end, and if you expect to gain favor with my father, he will never approve.”

  He laughed. “I am well aware that I am far beneath him and you.”

  “Him,” she corrected quickly.

  Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Not you?”

  “No.” Again she answered quickly.

  “Yet, I cannot call on you?”

  “Father would never allow it.” The sadness he wished to erase flooded her eyes again. “Thank you for assuring me of your trust. I’m glad we had this conversation.” Lady Jillian turned. “Good day, Mr. Storm.”

  She hurried away from him as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels, and Sam was fairly certain that if she wasn’t a lady in a public park, she would have run back to her brother.

  Lady Jillian was not immune to him, but she hadn’t granted him permission to call on her either.