"Oh, I know what happened," her grandmother said. "After my younger daughter's death, I paid a visit to Grimbald's father."
"My grandfather? I met him at the Royal Hospital. But—"
"He's lost his mind, poor man, yes. But I talked to him a long time before that." Lady Avonleigh—Grandmama—shifted on the sofa to face Rachael and took her other hand. "It wasn't all that bad, my dear. If Georgiana had known, she might have forgiven him. Although I suspect she would never have loved him. She was in love with the Earl of Greystone."
Rachael's parents—the two she'd grown up with—had been very much in love. No matter how angry she'd been with her mother, she'd never forgotten that. "What did Grimbald do?" she asked. "What did he do that wasn't so bad?"
"It was during the war against the colonies in North America, just six years after Georgiana was born. He was much older than she was, you see—probably another reason she preferred the earl. In any event, he and a fellow soldier, one William Smith, killed a British officer to keep him from murdering a number of American civilians. They managed to convince the authorities that the man was shot by a revolutionary. And all was well for twelve years, until Smith fell ill in 1792 and revealed in a deathbed confession that the two of them had killed the officer."
"But if they killed him to save innocent people," Rachael said, looking to Griffin, "the officer might have been a bad man. They might have done a good thing."
"That officer probably was a bad man," Griffin said sympathetically. "But that wouldn't matter. If Grimbald killed a superior, he'd have been arrested, court-martialed, and convicted—regardless of how bad the man had been."
"It doesn't signify," Lady A said. "Not now. Instead of being sorry for everything that happened, let's just be glad we've found each other." She squeezed Rachael's hands, and her smile reminded Rachael of her mother. "I have a granddaughter."
"You have three granddaughters," Rachael said. "Don't forget Claire and Elizabeth. They're Georgiana's daughters, too." Watching her grandmother's soft blue eyes widen, she added, "And you've a grandson as well. Our brother, Noah."
Lady A was holding Rachael's hands so tightly, her own were beginning to hurt. But she didn't care. Her mother had only wanted to protect her, and her father most likely hadn't really done wrong, and Grandmama had welcomed her with open arms.
"I cannot wait to see your sisters and brother again." Lady B's smile resembled Georgiana's, too. Rachael wondered how she'd never noticed. "I'm their aunt, you know," Lady B added. "And yours. And so is Cornelia."
Lady C, being the youngest, looked closest to her mother of all. "I never had a daughter," she said. "I'm so happy that now I'll have nieces again. And a nephew, too. Oh, my."
"My sisters are out with Noah at present," Rachael told her new family. "They're helping him choose a new desk. But they should be at home later, so we can go tell them our good news."
There were numerous murmurs of agreement to that plan.
"Maybe we'll all go shopping," Grandmama suggested. "I want to spoil my grandchildren. But first, let's have luncheon."
FORTY-SIX
CORINNA PACED the foyer, watching the clock tick toward the hour when it would be too late to submit her painting. Two hours earlier, the messenger she'd dispatched to Alexandra's house had returned with the news that her eldest sister wasn't at home. Corinna had then sent a desperate note to Juliana and another to Rachael, Claire, and Elizabeth.
Since then she'd heard nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all.
"What is taking them all so long?"
"Pardon, my lady?"
"Nothing, Adamson." She paused midpace. "No, not nothing," she revised, glancing at the tall-case clock once again. It was four o'clock, and she had to get to Somerset House by five, or she'd have to wait a whole year for another chance to submit to the Summer Exhibition. "Hail a hackney now, please. I shall have to take a footman. I cannot wait any longer."
Adamson opened his mouth to protest, but the knocker banged once again. He opened the door to reveal another messenger with a note—and Juliana out in the street, just alighting from the Stafford carriage.
"Thank God," Corinna breathed. "I won't need a hackney after all. Adamson, do please see my painting put in the Stafford carriage immediately. And carefully. The paper shouldn't be allowed to touch the paint, because it isn't dry yet."
The butler handed her the note. "It's for you, Lady Corinna. Surely you want to read it?"
"Oh, very well." She broke the seal and scanned it as Juliana joined her on the doorstep. "None of the cousins are at home, either," she reported with little surprise.
"Either?" Juliana echoed.
"Alexandra wasn't home, and neither is Griffin. And Lady A and Lady B are both busy this afternoon. And apparently Rachael, Claire, and Elizabeth are all busy, too. I'm grateful you could accompany me. Let's go."
"Everyone else was busy? Everyone? Dear heavens, what are the odds of such a coincidence?"
"I don't know, but I can't think about that now. We'll find out what everyone was doing tomorrow when we all visit Aunt Frances and the baby." She ushered her sister toward the carriage, where the painting was already tucked inside. "I must get to the Royal Academy before five o'clock."
They settled against the squabs, side by side facing forward, with the painting leaning against the other seat. As the carriage lurched into traffic, Juliana patted her sister's knee. "You aren't nervous, are you?"
"No," Corinna lied. "Just rushed. I feared no one would get here in time to accompany me. You weren't arriving, and the cousins live all the way in Lincoln's Inn—"
"Mr. Delaney is right nearby, along with his sister. Did you think to ask them?"
"I couldn't."
"Why is that?"
"Lord Lincolnshire is dying, and they have to stay with him. And besides, I couldn't let them see the painting."
"Why is that?"
Holy Hannah, Corinna thought, why had she said that? The frustrating afternoon had evidently robbed her ability to think straight.
"Why?" Juliana demanded. "You're hiding something, Corinna; I can tell."
There was nothing for it. Her sister would never give up badgering her, and if her painting was accepted, everyone was going to see it in the Summer Exhibition, anyway.
Corinna drew and held a breath. "Have a look," she finally said, reaching across to tear off the brown paper. Or rather, to tear a corner. She seemed to have trouble doing any more. "It's not varnished," she said.
Juliana shrugged. "All right."
"If it's accepted—if it's hung—I'll get a chance to make last minute changes and then varnish it right there on the wall."
"All right," Juliana repeated, and then, when Corinna failed to respond, she added, "So…?"
"Very well," Corinna said, and ripped the rest of the paper off.
Juliana's eyes widened. "Oh, my goodness."
"Is that all you have to say?"
"It's…well, it's different." She stared at the painting. "Nudes of women are fairly common, of course, but not of men."
"He's not nude," Corinna pointed out, feeling a bit queasy. "He's wearing trousers."
"Very tight ones," her sister agreed. "He's absolutely…" She blinked. "Dear heavens, don't you just want to take a bite out of him?"
Well, yes, as a matter of fact…but Corinna wasn't sure she liked her sister speaking of biting the man she loved.
And Juliana was still staring.
"He's compelling," Juliana murmured now. "I cannot seem to take my eyes off of him." But she did, finally meeting Corinna's. "It's magnificent, Corinna. You've always done good work, but this is spectacular."
Corinna's breath went out in a rush. "Do you really think so?"
"I know so. It's groundbreaking." She shifted her gaze back to the painting. "Why didn't you want Mr. Delaney to see it?"
"Does it perhaps…remind you of anyone you know?"
Juliana tilted her head. "Blond hair and brown eyes. That's an unusual
combination, isn't it? I don't think so."
Corinna had counted on no one looking past the coloring, but she must not have been completely confident, because relief sang through her veins now. "I feared Mr. Delaney would find it shocking, that's all. His father was a vicar, you know."
"Really? I know very little about him."
"I don't know much about him, either," Corinna said, averting her gaze.
FORTY-SEVEN
IN THE WEE hours, the earl died.
He slipped off peacefully, leaving the world in his sleep as Lord Stafford had said he would. One instant his breathing rattled noisily; the next he went eerily silent.
Sean and Deirdre both held their breaths for a tense moment, then turned to each other, embracing and holding tight. Deirdre's tears wet her brother's shirtfront, but they were quiet tears. Tears born of grief mixed with relief.
Sean felt exactly the same.
He sat by the earl's side the balance of the night, because it seemed like the right thing to do. And because he wasn't ready to begin what he needed to do next. Because eventually he would finish with that.
And then…
Dawn was a faint glow through the bedroom window when the household stirred to life. Mrs. Skeffington appeared on the threshold, holding an ewer of fresh water. "Is he…?"
"Gone," Sean said quietly. "With the angels."
A sound of sorrow escaped her throat, and she turned and fled, returning a few minutes later with Higginbotham.
"My lord," the steward said, "what shall we do?"
For a moment Sean was nonplussed. He wasn't a lord; he didn't belong here. But Higginbotham didn't know that, of course, and no one else at Lincolnshire House did, either. The lot of them wandered at loose ends, passing by the earl's chamber as though they were all ghosts themselves.
When Sean failed to respond, Higginbotham released a shuddering breath. "There must needs be funeral arrangements, and—"
"I'll see to everything," Sean assured him.
It would be a busy morning.
And then…
"Thank you, my lord earl." Higginbotham forced a wan half smile of gratitude. "I fear I am…numb."
Sean wished he could say the same. He wasn't numb. Pain suffused every fiber of his being. He had to force himself to move, to do what needed to be done.
And then…
Then his empty life stretched ahead.
Seemingly forever.
FORTY-EIGHT
ORANGE CUSTARD
Boil a pint of Cream with a little sack. When it be cold, take four Yolks and two whites of Eggs, a little juice of Orange and peel of Orange and Sugar to your palate. Mix them well together, and bake them in cups. Before serving, put your cups on ice.
This custard tastes lovely, and it brings love as well. My sisters and I each made this when we were looking for love, and we all found it.
—Anne, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1772
EXCITEMENT still simmered in Corinna on Tuesday when she arrived to visit Frances and the new baby. Her submission had gone even better than she'd hoped. Though she'd half expected to be asked what made her think she, Corinna Chase, was worthy of submitting to the Summer Exhibition, nothing of the like had occurred. No one had looked askance. Not only had her painting been accepted for consideration, but Henry Fuseli, who'd taken possession of it, had exclaimed loudly over its brilliance.
She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that a man who painted weird, erotic pictures might approve a portrait like hers.
She wasn't sure whether Lord Lincolnshire had died yet or not, but she knew he probably had, and that was the only thing that marred her happiness. And she was very much looking forward to this afternoon, when she would meet Sean at Hamilton's studio.
When she entered Aunt Frances's drawing room, Ladies A, B, and C were the only ones there, and they were chattering enthusiastically. Corinna wondered what could possibly have happened to make them babble like that, but when she appeared in the doorway they all fell silent. She saw the three of them exchange meaningful glances before Lady Avonleigh met her gaze.
"Oh, my dear!" she cried. "I'm so sorry I couldn't accompany you to Somerset House yesterday. Did you manage to submit your artwork?"
"Yes, I did," Corinna assured her. She was about to excitedly explain what had happened, but then Aunt Frances came slowly downstairs, supported by her maid and a footman, followed by a nurse with the baby. It took quite some time for her to get settled on her chaise longue with Belinda in her arms. Then Alexandra arrived with her baby, and Juliana showed up with a huge, flat basket filled with cups of orange custard, which she claimed would assist Corinna in finding love with a "certain someone."
"Which will make my sister's life complete," she added with a smile, handing the basket to a maid so the cups could be taken down to the basement kitchen and put on ice, "because her new portrait, which I have had the pleasure of seeing, is going to be the sensation of the Summer Exhibition."
"I cannot wait to see it," Lady A declared, which made Corinna a little nervous. She was grateful when the talk turned to Belinda's first smile—which Alexandra claimed could be caused only by indigestion—and on to Juliana's burgeoning belly. Not that Juliana's belly was actually protruding yet, but she kept rubbing it as though she could feel the baby inside, which made Corinna pine once more for a baby of her own.
She wondered how long it would be before Griffin talked to Sean, before she could broach the subject of their marriage. Her stomach fluttered at the thought, with both excitement and a touch of nerves.
Soon Rachael arrived with her sisters, the three of them chattering enthusiastically as they made their way through the foyer. Corinna wondered what could possibly have happened to make them babble like that, but at the drawing room's doorway they all fell silent. She saw the three of them exchange meaningful glances before Lady A exchanged meaningful glances with her sisters…
And even distracted by all her excited and nervous thoughts, Corinna couldn't help thinking something mysterious must be happening under her very nose.
"Good afternoon," Rachael said, breaking the silence.
"Good afternoon," Corinna returned. She watched Claire and Elizabeth make their way to two chairs and sit down, clucking over the new baby. And then she watched Rachael choose a seat on the sofa beside Lady Avonleigh.
Rachael paid no attention to the new baby. Instead she leaned close to Lady A, breathing in the kind lady's scent. She closed her eyes momentarily, and a faint smile curved her lips as she sighed a contented sigh, even though that odd mixture of camphor and gardenias couldn't possibly be pleasing.
And then something happened that was odder still: Lady A smiled a matching faint smile and sighed a matching contented sigh. And then she leaned so close to Corinna's cousin that the two of them were all but mashed together.
Lady C pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. "Oh, dear. I seem to be coming down with the sniffles."
"Me, too," Lady B said, although she looked perfectly fine. In fact, she and Lady C were both smiling. And so were Claire and Elizabeth. And they weren't faint smiles. They were smiles a mile wide.
"Would anyone care for some orange custard?" Juliana asked, rising from her seat. "Corinna, could you come with me to the kitchen to fetch it? And Claire and Elizabeth? I cannot carry ten cups all by myself, and James said that I shouldn't overexert myself in my delicate condition."
Juliana could certainly carry all ten cups in the same basket she'd brought them in, Corinna thought, and she hadn't seemed to overexert herself doing so earlier. But she rose and followed her sister anyway.
With a decided lack of regard for her delicate condition, Juliana hurried Corinna and their cousins from the drawing room and through the foyer. Halfway down the steps to the basement, she turned to them. "What in heaven's name is going on here? What on earth am I missing? Something has happened between Rachael and Lady Avonleigh. Something significant. I can tell."
A blind
and deaf woman would be able to tell, Corinna thought.
Elizabeth coughed a little sniffly cough. "Lady A is Rachael's grandmother."
"What?" Juliana and Corinna burst out together.
Claire elbowed her sister in the ribs and sighed. "Rachael is Lady Avonleigh's granddaughter. And we're her granddaughters, too. It seems our mother was Lady A's younger daughter—the one who jumped off the London Bridge. Only she didn't, not really. She married our father and moved to Greystone instead. And she never went back to London, because she was afraid someone there would recognize her, and her family would know she was alive."
This was what had happened to make the two sets of sisters babble like that, Corinna realized. And no wonder—the six of them turning out to be related was a positively astounding coincidence. Even more astounding than everyone's being too busy to accompany her to Somerset House at the same time.
"That's why everyone was busy yesterday," Juliana marveled. "You two and Rachael and Ladies A, B, and C were all together, discovering all of this."
"Brilliant deduction," Corinna muttered sarcastically before turning to her cousins. "Your mother didn't have asthma, then."
"No, she didn't. That was just an excuse." Claire pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and blew her nose—because she was overcome with emotion, not because she was coming down with the sniffles. "Please don't tell Rachael you know. She'd be mortified."
"Why?" Corinna asked. "None of this is any fault of hers. Does she think so little of us that she believes Aunt Georgiana's deception would change our feelings towards her?"
"I fear she's not thinking at all right now." Claire crossed her arms over her amethyst bodice and leveled a familiar glare at her sister. "Much like Elizabeth. Again."
Elizabeth sniffled, too. "I'm sorry."
"We promise not to tell a soul." Corinna turned to Juliana. "Don't we?"
Juliana reached to touch both her cousins' arms reassuringly. "We love Rachael, and we're thrilled that she's found more family to love. And do you realize my husband James is your first cousin? How amazing is that?"
Art of Temptation (Regency Chase Family Series, Book 3) Page 26
