“But... I don’t understand.” Wesley winced in thought, trying to make sense of it. “When did all this happen?”
“It was all very sudden,” Sophie replied, fingers primly clasped. “We met the day you left for Italy.”
Wesley fisted his hands. “I can’t believe it. He lost no time, did he.”
“Em, Wes, old man, let’s have a drink, shall we? Catch up a bit, ay?”
His mother protested, “Really, Mr. Keith. My son has just arrived home after months away. I believe we have priority—”
“I know, Mrs. O,” Keith persisted. “But just... trust me. I need a little time with him. I promise I will see him cleaned up and dressed and all yours in time for dinner.”
“Dinner?” She frowned across the hall at the long-case clock. “Good heavens. It is time I went up and changed. Oh, very well, Mr. Keith, but I expect to have Wesley’s undivided attention then. I cannot wait to hear about his latest work.”
“I’ll go up as well,” his father added, with an uncertain look from Wesley to Keith.
His parents were barely up the stairs when Wesley wheeled on Sophie.
“What in the world were you thinking?”
Keith hooked his arm through one of Wesley’s. “Come on.” He pulled him toward the billiards room. “A stiff drink is what you need. Even if I can’t join you.”
“Mr. Keith?” Sophie spoke up. “Only give him one, if you please?” Worry pinched her face.
“Ah. Right you are, Mrs. Overtree. Best to avoid loose lips. He might rant and storm in his cups.”
In the billiards room, Wesley jerked his arm from Carlton Keith’s grasp. “Thunder and turf, CK. I leave her for less than six weeks and this is what happens?”
The former officer went to the sideboard and unstopped the decanter.
“What wereyoudoing at the time?” Wesley went on. “Having a great laugh at my expense? Or were you struck mute? You might have said something to Marsh. Warned him off.”
Keith turned to him, not appearing at all sheepish or repentant as he would have guessed. “Why are you so angry? You left without word—left her to go off and find a new muse.”
“I left to paint in Italy. And I didn’t leave without a word. I left her a note.”
“A note. How touching. Any promises in that note? Any declarations?”
“I am not likely to dash off such important sentiments in a note, am I?”
“Did youevermake her any promises? Promise to return for her? Or to marry her?”
A pinch of guilt cramped Wesley’s gut. He had said plenty of warm words. He didn’t like to think of all he’d said in the flush of passion. “Not... initially. But I did send a second letter from Plymouth. Apologizing. Asking her to wait for me.”
“That’s an important message to leave to chance. Or the post.” Keith handed him a small glass.
Wesley gulped it down, hoping the burn in his throat would ease the pain in his heart. Did Keith know he’d been intimate with Miss Dupont? The man couldn’t know for sure, but they’d given him plenty of reason to suspect—the locked cottage door, his affectionate attention, her blushes. And all those paintings.... Wesley chose his words carefully. “Did Marsh know that she and I had spent a good deal of time together?”
“I believe I mentioned it. But he doesn’t exactly ask me for permission before he acts, does he?”
Wesley pounded the table. “How dare he? I’ll kill him.”
“You’ll have to get in line behind Boney’s men for that. Doubt you’ll have a chance.”
Wesley ran a hand over his face. “What do I do now?”
“Nothing, my good fellow. Not one blessed thing. Like it or not, she is Miss Dupont no longer. She is Mrs. Overtree.”
Wesley grimaced to hear her referred to by that name—especially when he was not the man who’d given it to her.
