Striding toward it, his heart beat erratically until the fully clothed figure came into view. “She painted another.” A sense of awe filled him at her industry. Lifting the painting, he set it on one of the wingback chairs before his desk.
His mother had no idea how dignified this one was compared to the one he thought Amelia had brought. He was fully clothed in his usual colors, one hand resting on the back of a chair as he stood in front of a window. The scene beyond the window was snow and he recognized it from her studio. His breath caught at the sting of hurt that shot to his chest at the memory.
Ignoring the too familiar pang, he continued his perusal, smiling wryly as he found the painting of a friar on the wall. Intrigued, he looked for more clues and discovered a cloak that looked very much like hers hanging on a hook in the background and on a table beneath the friar painting was a bowl of fruit. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself. She’d done it again, captured all of him, inside and outside with a nod to their time together.
Did she paint it before or after she decided his need for her dowry made him ineligible to be her husband? A flame of anger ignited deep inside him, and he picked up the painting, intending to smash it against the corner of his desk, but he halted. Why had she brought it to him after three weeks? Why not destroy it? And what did she do with the painting of him upon the acropolis?
He let the painting slide to the floor as he held one end. How could she think he would want it? Was it simply to fulfill their bargain? He sneered at the thought. A painting of himself was far from being his wife. He looked about for a place to put it and his gaze fell upon his father’s portrait. He hadn’t realized how much he disliked that portrait, but now that his mother had commented on it, he understood. The portrait was a fake vision of his father, just like he’d had a faulty opinion of the man.
Glancing toward the portrait of himself, he made his decision. Carrying it to the fireplace, he leaned it against a chair. “If Mother likes you so much, she can have you.” He lifted the large painting from its place above the mantle where it had hung nigh on twenty years. Setting that one aside, he placed his own portrait on the wall.
Turning back to his desk, he sat behind it and took in the view. From across the room, the subtle reminders of his time with Amelia were not obvious, and he could simply gaze upon his figure. It really was very well done and much more pleasurable than staring at his father when he happened to look up from his work. He’d have his father’s portrait added to his mother’s bedroom or sitting area.
At a knock on the door, he called his man to enter, ready to have that ice cream his mother mentioned.
When Pratt entered, he didn’t hide his surprise. His butler never served food, yet he carried in a bowl of green tea ice cream. “My lord, you just received this note from the Duke of Northwick.” He held up the sealed paper in his other hand. “He has requested a response.”
His heart started to beat harder in his chest. Had the man learned of his failed bargain with Lady Amelia? Or did he hope to warn him away from the Mabry family? That would be a waste of time as he had no intention of seeing any of them again.
Pratt handed him the note and he opened it quickly.
Dear Lord Sommerset.
I was disappointed we did not have the pleasure of your company upon arriving at Lyonsmere Hall and I hope your activities on your estate were successful. Your mother’s mention of these brought to mind that I have been remiss in my promise to you to share my strategies for managing my tenants’ current trials after this past summer’s unprecedented weather and subsequent harvest. I have taken lodgings at the Owl’s Nest Inn for an additional night on the chance that I could be of some assistance to you. If you are able, I am free for afternoon tea upon the morrow. A favor of your response is requested.
Lord James Huntington, Duke of Northwick
That was not what he’d expected, especially after his failed attempt to take Amelia as his wife. Why would the duke want to help him? Had she told the duke of his current troubles or was it simply the duke being in the area and wanting to, as he said, follow through on his offer? Part of him wanted to refuse outright. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the Mabry family and knowing that the duke, his duchess, and Amelia were traveling together meant he could risk seeingher. He wished to avoid that for a very long time. His heart still hurt at her rejection of him and as he reasoned, their entire time together.
The duke mentioned afternoon tea, specifically. That might mean it was the best time while the ladies were otherwise engaged. He doubted very much that Amelia would wish to see him any more than he wanted to see her. The fact was, he did need advice and Lord Northwick was offering. Turning away such an offer when the man was in such close proximity bordered upon rude. He shook his head. There was much to be gained by accepting the invitation.
“Is that a no, then, sir?”
“What?” He lifted his head. “No. Tell the messenger I will attend upon the duke.”
“Yes sir.” Pratt started for the door then halted. He turned. “If I may sir. I believe that portrait suits this room much better. Would you like me to find a new place for the old one?”
He looked up at his own face above the fireplace, an amused smile curling his lips in the painting. “I was just trying it out, Pratt. But I think I agree with you. Yes, please find an appropriate place for my father’s portrait, perhaps somewhere where only my mother can view it.”
Pratt gave a short bow. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
As Pratt exited with the portrait of his father in hand, he moved the bowl of ice cream closer and dug in his spoon. Now that he thought on it, he had at least a dozen questions to ask the duke, unfortunately, all of them meant admitting his current financial situation and the reason for it. If he did so, he risked thetondiscovering the truth, which would mean marrying before the season. Even at that thought, his stomach recoiled. He released the spoon, sitting back. But to not do all in his power to help his people and keep his mother from knowing the precipice they resided on was also foolhardy.
Also, if the duke had advice that he could use, he wouldn’t need a wife…forever. He did have a younger brother. Christopher could always marry and have children. He’d obviously been practicing. His brother had received his letter about curtailing his spending on his mistress with much complaint, most likely because he couldn’t bring himself to explain why.
His appetite returned with his new plan and he sat forward again, pulling out a spoonful of green tea ice cream. He closed his eyes as he savored the unique flavor. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking at his portrait. He was nothing like his father. Now he just hoped who he was would be enough to save his family.
—
Andrew walked into the private dining room at the Owl’s Nest Inn and halted. The duke rose from the small table in a space no larger than his coach. The confines of the room were not what startled him. It was the duchess sitting at the table that had him rethinking his decision to accept the invitation.
“Lord Sommerset, I’m pleased that you were able to come.”
He gave a short bow. “Your Grace, I could not refuse. It is a great boon you grant me.” He turned to Amelia’s sister. “Lady Northwick, I did not realize you would be joining us.”
She waved off his comment even as she smiled warmly. “I’m only here to pour tea and be sure my husband has the numbers right. I keep our ledger, so I want to be sure he is correct in his advice.”
The duke gave a short shake of his head. “I’m always right. Please.” He opened his hand to the chair next to his own.
