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The butler disappeared, and the carriage trundled away.

“Father would never be embarrassed by your paintings,” Florence observed.

“I was feeling cross, or I wouldn’t have said it,” Torie admitted. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

Val was frowning. “I can’t imagine any reason he would ever feel embarrassed by you, other than perhaps your inability to read.”

“Which doesn’t matter,” Florence said. She pulled out Castle Rackrent. “You have me!”

Chapter 35

Dominic strode out of the main chamber of the House of Lords the moment the session was called. Around him, peers were clustering, discussing where to eat.

He blew past them, ignoring the sideways glances and the way a few pestilent cowards cringed as he strode by.

Yes, he had a temper.

And he could be . . . mean.

He couldn’t stop thinking of the crushed look in Torie’s eyes when he implied she was a fool. He didn’t mean it. All morning, the evidence of her intelligence had marched through his mind like soldiers on parade, their brass buttons glittering. The way she quoted everything from the Bible to obscure Shakespeare plays. The way she countered his arguments, often in more complex and twisty ways than anyone in Lords had ever come up with.

Even the way she painted.

He knew the house was empty the moment he drew up his curricle. The two large carriages had been standing in the street that morning, but now it was empty. His butler jerked open the door and came down the steps; obviously he’d been watching from the drawing room window.

“Flitwick,” he said grimly.

The man bowed.

“I gather that Lady Kelbourne has left for the country. Was my wife informed that I planned to return after the session?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Flitwick’s confirmation made his chest hurt, as if his heart was too stiff to beat.

“But my lady left with the Duchess of Huntington en route to Huntington Grange,” the butler said quickly. “They had to begin immediately, since they hope to reach the Bell & Parrot Inn.”

Dominic couldn’t have heard correctly. “What did you say?”

“Lady Kelbourne and the twins were invited by Her Grace to pay a visit to Huntington Grange.” Flitwick’s chest puffed out, more than a hint of pride in his voice.

“Did Lady Kelbourne indicate how long she intends to remain at Huntington Grange?”

“My lady plans to return in ten days. She says that you are aware that the duchess planned to commission a painting of a steam engine.”

Dominic frowned. Didn’t he explicitly ask the duchess to give Torie time to learn some new skills? It was a good thing he hadn’t sent Langlois off with a flea in his ear. The man would have to stop waving around pears and get Torie focused on machinery, now that she’d accepted the commission.

“I see.”

Flitwick hesitated.

“Did the viscountess leave another message?”

The butler winced and then repeated, “‘I shall try not to embarrass him, even given my inexperience in this area.’”

Stinging silence fell between them. Dominic gave him a nod and strode into the house, throwing his greatcoat and gloves at a footman. He went to his study, shutting the door behind him. Once there, he dropped into a chair and buried his head in his hands.

He loved Torie—yes, loved her more than anyone else. More than the mother he never knew, his angry, flighty sister, his horrible father. More than the twins, fond though he was of them.