“No, Father has not agreed, but I thought you would. Any day you’ll be Tramel.”
“Never, Jane. Gladstone is worse than a toad, very undeserving of you.”
Watching the two exchange words, I had to slip away. Finally, Felton let me flee and I entered my sanctuary down the hall. My paintings lining the walls gave me comfort, except my unfinished work of father and son.
I slid the heavy thing to lean on my gilded easel. “Time to finish. I saw what it should be.”
Commotion sounded in the hall. Then Jane’s cries.
My hand slipped to my mouth. I had my own gripes against her, but they were siblings about to lose their father. There should be common ground.
Somber-faced, Felton slipped into the room.
“Sorry, my lord.”
“No. No. None of that.”
Looking away, I concentrated on my canvas. “I always loved painting here.”
“We never did finish my other portrait.” Felton stood behind me with his hand about my waist then dropping to my stomach. “Toga, no toga?”
I turned, ready to chastise him for being so glib, but his face had no smile. The baggage of me and Gladstone had come between him and his sister. I hated that. “You can tell her what Gladstone has done if that will save her. She—”
“She’s accepted a man who has proven himself unworthy. I’ll not be silent on that. Or anything else that needs to be said. I’ve done that too long.”
“I suppose it’s better than running away.”
He dropped his head on mine. “I want my family whole. I fear time has come too late for Tramel and me to reconcile. I don’t want to be like him in that regard, him or my grandfather.”
I put my arms behind me to hold him in place. “You’re not either. You’ll not be distant and regretful to Agatha and Amelia. Now that you’ve withdrawn from service, everything will be better.”
“I won’t be like him to my son. I won’t be distant or smothering. You can count on that.”
“That is nice, but let’s go down and dine with the daughters you do have. Though we’ve enjoyed each other’s company, there’s no guarantee.”
He spun me and set his gaze to me. “The babe who will join us is my son. I know all of it.”
There was no laughter in his eyes. He was serious. “The spymaster has something wrong.” I balled my fists and stepped away. “Was that why you’ve been so determined to fix us? You think I bore your son? It’s not our love but an heir that has placed my heart in jeopardy again.”
“No. You and I are meant to be. My love shall never diminish, and you shouldn’t test it.”
The doors barged opened. Jane sauntered inside. “Papa said that the decision is up to you, Felton. I can have a husband or be a derided spinster.”
“No, Jane. No.”
She grabbed his arm. “Felton, be a part of the shooting party in the morn. Let Gladstone talk with you. Let him convince you, not her.”
Felton shook his head.
“It’s this woman who left you. She may control you, but she can’t have control over my life too.”
“But that’s what you want, Lady Jane, to control everything—here, the house in London. My leaving. Felton said that my studio was locked that night. He thought me there, but you and I had words before I stormed out. You knew when I left.”
Felton’s face burned red. “Jane, she could’ve died in the snowfall. How could you?”
She put a hand to her hip, wrinkling her gown that was meant to make her look young and innocent, not the bitter harpy she’d become. “Didn’t think it would snow so badly.”
Felton stormed to the doors and opened one. “Out, Jane. Can’t look at you now.”
