Art of Temptation (Regency Chase Family Series, Book 3)

by Royal, Lauren

  The homely apple is always dependable. Serve at family gatherings to assure harmony.

  —Helena, Countess of Greystone, 1776

  "A LOVELY first vintage." Lamplight glinted off deep ruby as Alexandra held up her glass on Tuesday night, toasting her brother during their family dinner at his Berkeley Square town house. "You did it, Griffin."

  Her husband smiled. "A toast to England's newest wine producer."

  "I don't know that wine producer is an apt description." Griffin grinned at his brother-in-law. Tristan had helped him save Cainewood's fledgling vineyards. "The term implies producing enough to sell a quantity. We're likely to consume this year's entire production ourselves. Within a week. Perhaps tonight."

  Alexandra laughed. "You'll make more next year, and still more the year after that. Eventually there may be enough to sell."

  "Charles would be proud," Juliana said softly.

  Charles, their eldest brother, had planted the vines when he was the marquess. But he hadn't lived to see them bear fruit. Two years ago, when Charles died of consumption, Griffin had been forced to leave the cavalry. To come home to take Charles's place. To accept Charles's title. He'd also found himself saddled with their three unmarried sisters, a diverse collection of mainly unprofitable properties, and a field full of dying grapevines.

  Today the vines were thriving, the family holdings had been reduced to those that were manageable, and two of his sisters were happily wed. Not bad, Griffin thought, relishing a sip of the heady wine.

  One by one, all of his problems were being resolved. Now he had only to find a husband for Corinna and puzzle out the mystery of Rachael's parenthood. He was making good progress on the latter. Having heard from his man today, he looked forward to giving Rachael the news when he saw her at the Billingsgate ball on Saturday.

  Corinna, however, was another matter altogether.

  Paint, paint, paint…all she ever wanted to do was paint. Clearly she had little interest in finding a husband. He'd introduced her to countless fine gentlemen, and though on the surface she appeared cooperative, she always danced and smiled and moved on, never giving any of them a second thought.

  All he wanted was her happiness. And women were happier married, weren't they? But lately it seemed Corinna paid attention to just one man. He'd be decent husband material, Griffin supposed—a little old, but wealthy, single, and kind…

  If only he were expected to last out the week.

  "Corinna has been spending a lot of time with Lord Lincolnshire," he commented as Juliana served the apple puffs Alexandra had made and brought to the family dinner.

  "I'm painting Lord Lincolnshire's portrait. I hope to submit it for the Summer Exhibition."

  Juliana put a puff on a plate and moved to hand it to her husband, James. "How is the old earl doing?" she asked.

  "Well enough, considering the circumstances. He seems to be holding his own." Corinna paused for a sip of her wine. "He's very happy to have his nephew to keep him company."

  James looked puzzled. "His nephew?"

  "Yes, his nephew," Corinna said pointedly.

  "Hmm?" James frowned, but then his face cleared. "Oh, you mean Mr. Delaney."

  Confused, Griffin tilted his head. "Who is Mr. Delaney?"

  Juliana paused with the plate in her hand, apparently torn between setting it before James or bopping him on the head with it. "That was a secret."

  "Oh." He winced. "You didn't tell me."

  Glaring at Juliana, Corinna blindly jabbed a fork in her own apple puff. "Why on earth did you tell him?"

  "We don't keep secrets," Juliana explained apologetically. "We promised before our wedding."

  "Well, when you tell a secret, you could at least tell that it is a secret."

  "I'm sorry," Juliana squeaked.

  "What the devil is this about?" Griffin demanded. "Who is Mr. Delaney?"

  Corinna sighed. "The man you met at Lady Partridge's ball—the man introduced to you as John Hamilton—is actually Mr. Hamilton's brother-in-law, Sean Delaney. Mr. Hamilton asked him—"

  "Blackmailed him," Alexandra interrupted.

  "Well, yes. He blackmailed him into posing as himself. As John Hamilton, I mean. Lord Lincolnshire's nephew. But now he's having second thoughts, even though it's the right thing, and—"

  "I beg your pardon?" Griffin cut in.

  None of this made sense. The name, Sean Delaney, seemed familiar. Yet the man introduced as John Hamilton at Lady Partridge's ball hadn't seemed familiar at all. In fact, Griffin was certain he'd never set eyes on that man before in his life.

  More confused than ever, he swung toward his old friend Tristan. "Did you know about this, too?"

  "Not all of it." Looking down, Tristan speared a bite. "And only for a short while."

  "A short while," Griffin growled.

  Alexandra released a melancholy sigh. "The apple puffs don't seem to be working."

  "Come again?" Tristan asked.

  "They're supposed to assure harmonious family gatherings."

  Her husband and Juliana's both looked amused. Griffin wasn't. "Would someone please explain—"

  "Excuse me a moment," Juliana interrupted. "And don't you dare discuss anything in my absence. I'll be right back."

  While she was visiting the water closet, or wherever else she might have rushed off to—Juliana was female, which meant it was much too dangerous to inquire—Griffin shoveled apple puff into his mouth and tried to puzzle out what was going on.

  He failed. Miserably.

  "Explain," he demanded when she returned. "And don't leave anything out."

  Between them, with much mind-boggling back-and-forthness, his three sisters explained.

  And explained.

  And explained.

  A quarter hour later, when they finally finished, Corinna paused for a breath. "You won't give away Mr. Delaney's secret, will you? Not only would it imperil his sister's divorce, but it would also make Lord Lincolnshire's final days unhappy ones."

  "I don't know," Griffin grated out. While his sisters' reasoning wasn't unsound—assuming one took into consideration their female brand of logic—none of it really sat quite right with him. "I don't like tricking that kindly old man."

  "You're not tricking him," Juliana said with that same typical—illogical—logic. "You're only allowing it to happen."

  "Which isn't very honorable."

  Alexandra shook her head. "Seeing to Lord Lincolnshire's happiness is the epitome of honor."

  "It's lying," Griffin disagreed.

  Now Corinna shook her head. "It's only failing to reveal the truth."

  Semantics. It was all semantics. And it was wrong.

  Griffin was opening his mouth to say so when a footman stepped into the dining room. "A caller, my lord. A Mr. Sean Delaney."

  "What a coincidence," Griffin said. "Show him in."

  No sooner had the servant left than Corinna snorted. "It's not a coincidence."

  "I sent a message to Lincolnshire House," Juliana explained. "I told Mr. Delaney that you're aware of his true identity and there's something we need to discuss."

  "So that's what you were doing when you went off." Tristan nodded contemplatively. "I wondered."

  James spread his hands. "I thought she was visiting the water closet."

  "We should have guessed," Griffin muttered. "She always has been the family meddler."

  When Mr. Delaney walked in, Corinna motioned to a footman to fetch him a chair, then scooted over so the servant could fit it in beside her own.

  A tall man, Delaney looked like he spent all his free hours in Gentleman Jackson's boxing salon. Griffin wouldn't care to challenge him to a match. And he was even more certain they weren't acquainted. "Had we already met?" he asked him. "Before Lady Partridge's ball?"

  Delaney gave a little bow before he sat. "Not that I recall, my lord."

  The man had a distinct Irish accent, and Griffin hadn't ever met very many Irishmen. "Yet your name seems famil
iar."

  "Is it?" Although he took the glass of wine Corinna handed him, Delaney didn't drink from it as he seemed to consider. "I think I may have bought a piece of property from you. Last year, through your solicitor, which explains why we never met."

  "Ah, yes." Now Griffin remembered seeing the name on the contract. "A tumbledown boardinghouse near Lincoln's Inn Fields, if I recall aright. Cannot imagine why my father and brother held on to it for so long. I was pleased to get rid of it."

  "I take it you haven't been by there of late." A corner of Delaney's mouth twitched as though he wanted to grin. "That tumbledown boardinghouse is now a sound four-story building with sixteen tenants. Shops and offices on the ground floor, residential above." He looked to Corinna. "I received your note. What is it you feel we need to discuss?"

  "It was my note," Juliana said. "And you've been summoned in order to persuade both you and my brother that your posing as John Hamilton is the very best thing."

  Which she proceeded to do, of course, with the help of her sisters.

  Though Griffin didn't know Delaney, he judged him a man with a quick mind and sound business sense. Together they put up a good fight. In the end, however, they both reluctantly agreed to preserve Lincolnshire's happiness for his final few days.

  It was inevitable, Griffin supposed.

  Three Chase females against two hapless men was nowhere near a fair match.

  TWENTY-TWO

  "VERY HANDSOME gentleman," Juliana commented as Corinna came off the Billingsgates' dance floor Saturday night. "Who is he? Did you kiss him?"

  "I cannot remember his name. Lord Stonehurst, or maybe Lord Brickhaven. Something to do with building materials." Corinna watched the man walk away, expecting Griffin to bring another one by at any moment. "And no, I didn't kiss him," she added under her breath. "I just met him, for heaven's sake."

  "Tonight?" Juliana's smile was a tad too innocent. "Then I expect you'll make him wait a week?"

  "At least," Corinna confirmed, tilting her chin up into the air. She'd once told her sister she never let gentlemen kiss her right after meeting them; she made them wait at least a week. But the truth was that since her first kiss with Sean, she hadn't wanted to kiss anyone else.

  Unfortunately, she'd received no kisses in the last three days. Lord Lincolnshire was so anxious to see his portrait finished before he passed on that he'd been ready and waiting when she arrived each morning at nine, making it impossible to sneak a kiss. And although the earl tired easily and went up to bed every afternoon, Sean never returned before it was time for Corinna to go home.

  Lord Lincolnshire had taken his rest extra early today, because he was bringing Sean and Deirdre here tonight. He'd told Corinna he wanted to see his nephew "dance with his lovely wife." Corinna was very much looking forward to their arrival, not least because she hoped to get Sean alone for a kiss or two.

  The lack of kisses certainly hadn't made her want to kiss another man instead. It seemed she belonged to Sean in a sense, or he to her. Or both. It was a very mild relationship, and a very innocent one, but it was also wonderful, thrilling, and just illicit enough to make her feel like a true, free-spirited artist. Yet it was disconcerting, too. She felt like Pamela had when she'd bemoaned, I shall never be able to think of anybody in the world but him!

  And she couldn't marry him. Or could she? She was no longer sure. She still knew very little about him, really. But yesterday she'd casually asked Griffin what he thought of Sean—well, she'd called him Mr. Delaney, of course—and he'd said he was impressed with the man's business sense and was hoping to buttonhole him sometime soon to ask him for advice regarding property management.

  In other words, he hadn't sounded at all disapproving.

  Thinking of her brother made her realize he seemed to have abandoned the Billingsgate ballroom. For now, at least, he wasn't shoving another man at her. She relaxed a little bit. "Do you know where Griffin went off to?"

  "I don't. Who is that woman?" Juliana indicated the direction with a flick of her dark blond head. "The one who just came in with Lord Lincolnshire and Mr. Del—um…Mr. Hamilton."

  They were here! And fortunately no one was nearby to hear Juliana's slip of the tongue. Discretion was important. "That's Deirdre," Corinna whispered. "His sister. We were introduced earlier this week, but I haven't found a chance to actually talk to her. She never seems to be around in the daytimes when I'm at Lincolnshire House painting."

  "Let's talk to her now," Juliana said.

  Corinna wasn't sure how wise that would be, considering Sean feared his sister might give them away. But she had no choice. In her usual decisive manner, Juliana was already heading Lord Lincolnshire's way.

  "Lady Corinna!" he wheezed when they arrived, grinning up at her from his wheelchair. He looked to Juliana. "And Lady Stafford. Please…allow me to introduce Mrs. Hamilton, the next…Countess of Lincolnshire."

  Behind him, Sean shifted uncomfortably. But Deirdre was Mrs. Hamilton, after all. And she would be the next Countess of Lincolnshire—at least until she managed to secure the divorce she was seeking.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you," Juliana told Deirdre.

  "It's my pleasure to meet you. I've been hearing so much about your family, especially your sister."

  Corinna flushed, wondering what Sean might have told Deirdre. But then she realized it was probably Lord Lincolnshire who'd done the talking. She was painting him, after all, and he was rather pleased by that.

  "Mr. Hamilton!" Lady Ainsworth, a tall woman who looked even taller wearing a golden turban, bustled over. "What a delight to see you again! What are you painting these days, if I might ask?"

  "A landscape," Sean said.

  "A landscape!" Lady Ainsworth's loud laugh had more people coming to join them. Evidently Sean's celebrity had yet to wear off. "Have you ever painted anything that wasn't a landscape, Mr. Hamilton?"

  "I suppose I haven't."

  "You suppose?" Lady Ainsworth's laugh was really quite annoying. "What is it a landscape of?" she asked.

  "It's a meadow scene," Corinna said.

  Lady Hartshorn turned to her. She was a short, round woman who had very wide eyes at the moment. "You've seen it?"

  "I have." Corinna smiled, thinking Lady Hartshorn looked rather envious. "The trees are exquisite, their shadows most intriguing."

  "Speaking of intriguing shadows," a gentleman said, looking to Sean, "I've been wondering about Allegory of Shadow."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Allegory of Shadow. Your most famous painting?"

  "Oh, yes." Sean's own laugh sounded rather forced. "Of course. I was still thinking about my new painting, I fear. Once I finish a piece, I quite put it out of my mind."

  "May I ask what inspired you? What made you decide to focus so on the shadows?"

  "The, ah…the trees. I've always found trees very inspiring. Lush trees of the English countryside that grow from wee acorns to cast large shadows—"

  "But Mr. Hamilton," Lady Ainsworth interrupted, her turban bobbing as though it were as indignant as she. "I don't recall seeing any trees in Allegory of Shadow. Its central subject is a stone circle, isn't it? And not in England, but in Ireland, I do believe?"

  "Well, I was raised in Ireland—"

  "Exactly," Corinna cut in. "Allegories are symbolic representations, as you know. If one looks closely, one will see that the shadows cast by the standing stones resemble trees. English trees."

  "Oh," the woman said.

  "I cannot believe you didn't know that," Lady Hartshorn scoffed. "It's brilliant, Mr. Hamilton. Simply brilliant. How long did you take to paint it?"

  "Three days, my lady."

  "Three days? The thing is the size of a drawing room wall! The largest painting in the history of the Summer Exhibition, wasn't it?"

  "When one is inspired," Corinna said, "the image simply flows from the hand through the brush. I myself have completed a painting in a single day." Once. One tiny painting, no more than
eight inches square. Allegory of Shadow was eight feet by sixteen, at the very least. "Have you ever painted, Lady Hartshorn?"

  "No. No, I haven't."

  "I thought not," Corinna said in a superior tone of voice.

  Just then Lord Lincolnshire coughed. And coughed again.

  "Do you need something to drink, Uncle?" Sean took the back of his chair, looking not at all unpleased to have a plausible excuse to escape the conversation. "Let me bring you to the refreshment room."

  Without the celebrated Mr. Hamilton as a point of focus, the gathering quickly dispersed. Shifting uneasily, Deirdre watched her brother wheel the earl off.

  "Would you like to go outside, Mrs. Hamilton?" Juliana asked her kindly. "Lord Billingsgate has a lovely garden."

  "Oh, yes," Deirdre said, sounding grateful. "I would like that very much."

  "Why don't you take her?" Juliana suggested to Corinna, her gaze straying to where James stood in a circle of men engaged in a heated argument. All members of Parliament, no doubt. "I've a mind to rescue my husband by asking him for a dance."

  Corinna nodded, taking Deirdre's arm to steer her around the perimeter of the dance floor, toward French doors that opened to the terrace. "Thank you," Sean's sister breathed when they finally made it outside. "I'm thinking I don't really belong in there, do I?"

  Corinna led her down a path where twinkling lanterns hung overhead. "Whyever would you say that?"

  "I'm a simple country girl, a vicar's daughter from a village in Ireland. I've no place in London society."

  "You're married to John Hamilton."

  "In name only," Deirdre said darkly. "He hasn't paid me any mind since…well, for a long time."

  In all the time since Deirdre lost their baby, Corinna knew. Although Sean had told her little about himself, he'd spent much time explaining Deirdre's situation and how it had led to the mess they were in now. She imagined it was hard for Deirdre to speak of it. "You have every right to be here. And at least you know more about art than your brother."