Artful Deceptions (15 page)

“Mr. Griffin is in the study, my lord.”

“I’ll make my own way, Waits, thank you.”

Allowing the footman to relieve him of walking stick and hat, Galen sought the small downstairs office that Evan used for business, grateful that he would not have to come face-to-face with the family upstairs just yet. The business of acquiring a wife was becoming more complicated by the minute. He wasn’t at all certain that he wasn’t better off out of it.

Evan looked up without expression as his friend entered and casually drew up a chair without invitation. He glanced down at a paper in his hand, then back to Locke. “I have a note here from uncle Ross. He wants me to act as intermediary in the sale of one of his paintings to you. I can’t believe he is parting with one of his pets. What have you said to him?”

Galen lifted a laconic eyebrow. “What have I said to him? I thought the case was reversed. He lectured me on the error of Shelce’s ways and aired the family linen. I thought it was his way of explaining why he would not accept your hospitality.”

Evan scowled. “Why should he have told all this to you? He’s never spoken to anyone else about it before. He barely even speaks to me.”

Galen had the grace to grimace with guilt. “I may have ripped up at him a trifle. But confound it, did you see Arianne’s face when she heard about her mother? And I was the one who lost her blamed painting so she could not make the trip to Bath. I had to do something to make him see sense. I had not thought that he would rather sell the Titian than accept your offer.”

“The Titian? My word, it gets worse and worse.” Evan ran his hand through his hair in a gesture somewhat reminiscent of his uncle’s. “The Titian, I cannot believe it. I take that back, I might believe it. My father met my mother when he went to see the Titian. Everyone knew the Richardses were living on nothing, but that the family housed one of the finest collections known to the area. I don’t know the whole of it, but as I understand it, they used to be fairly wealthy but they never had much in the way of lands. I suspect they were all as eccentric as Uncle Ross and spent it all on acquiring more and more artwork.”

He leaned back in his chair and focused his thoughts. “I digress. Whatever the occasion, my father went to see the Titian, hoping they might part with it if their circumstances were as dire as he had heard. I believe he once said he meant to put it in the new room under construction at the time. There’s a large paneled wall there that would have been an ideal display for something that large. My father never did talk Ross out of the painting, but he acquired my mother instead. It’s an old story, repeated frequently throughout my childhood. Ross just might think it a slap in my grandfather’s face to sell the painting outside the family.”

“Or to his daughter’s suitor,” Galen finished quietly, feeling suddenly rather weak. The whole picture was becoming all too clear now. He could be wrong, but he would rather think of Arianne’s father as being too clever for his own good than too eccentric to behave rationally.

Evan’s head shot up. “His daughter’s suitor? You and Arianne? Locke, I know you for an idle fop, perhaps, but not a rake. You can’t come courting Melanie and have Arianne on the side; it won’t do, my friend.”

Galen grimaced, then leaned back in his chair and examined the toes of his highly polished boot. “That’s not at all what I’d intended, but it seems I have been enmiring myself deeper than I thought. Rather careless of me, I admit. Have you heard from Rhys lately? He might dig me out of this pit, but the dreadful thing is, I’m not at all certain that I want him to.”

Evan threw up his hands and jumped up, dislodging papers and pens everywhere as he restlessly shoved his chair aside and began to pace. “I’ve heard from him, yes, but he trusts me to keep his secrets. I fail to see the connection. You are talking in circles, Locke. Start at the beginning and explain yourself.”

Galen flicked an imaginary dust mote from the leather. “I’d rather not. I’d rather speak with Rhys. You’re not exactly in an unbiased position.”

Evan swung round to glare at his lordship at his worst. “Stow it, Locke. I’ve known you since we were lads. When you put on that bored demeanor, it means you’re hiding something. We are talking about my sister and my cousin here. I want to know precisely what happened to cause my uncle to offer to sell his painting to you.”

Galen gave him a thoughtful look. “Did Melanie explain why she rejected my suit?”

“Melanie never explains anything!” Evan flung himself back into his desk chair. “She said you were much too alike and would never suit, as if that made any sense at all. She’s just peeved at being thwarted in her plans. She’ll likely come around after a while. Surely you can’t be put off by her foolishness that easily? Heaven only knows, if I had taken Daphne’s rejection the first hundred times, we would never have been married now. Women are perverse by nature.”

“Hundred times?” Galen lifted a languid eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that you knew her long enough to have time for a hundred proposals.”

Evan gave a weary grin. “Well, they covered a space of a few minutes. Or hours. I don’t remember which. We were rattling the windows at the time.”

“Umph,” Galen grunted unintelligibly. He had met Evan’s wife on numerous occasions. He had a hard time imagining how a hardheaded military man like Evan had managed to win the delicate and winsome Daphne, but he had a harder time imagining the two of them yelling at each other enough to rattle the panes. The two of them were still a pair of lovebirds after nearly a year of marriage.

“But that is neither here nor there. I must demand to know your intentions toward Melanie.”

Galen thought that sounded rather formal for his informal friend. It would really be quite infamous to cry off so easily, particularly when Melanie was all that he had ever imagined a wife to be. Yet he was beginning to get this niggling feeling that fate had more of a hand in this business than he had calculated. And it wasn’t just fate that had him wondering if he hadn’t been a trifle presumptuous in assuming that he need only mention marriage to have his choice of wives. The more Galen thought about it, the more he doubted that he had made a wise rather than an opportune decision. Perhaps he had better consider duty first.

Locke sighed and returned his boot to the floor. “My intentions have not altered, but you must know it is a little more complicated than that. Melanie isn’t going to come around anytime soon, not while she has this notion about Rhys and his imminent demise in her head. And meanwhile, Mrs. Richards is languishing in her sickbed for lack of funds to see her to proper air. I rather thought Rhys had an interest in your cousin, but if he does not deem it necessary to put in an appearance, perhaps the best thing for all is for me to acquiesce to Mr. Richards’ wishes.”

Evan watched him suspiciously. Whenever Galen put on that innocuous air and began spouting airy phrases, he knew someone was in trouble. He just didn’t intend for it to be any of his family. “You’ll buy the painting?”

“I’ll offer for Arianne.”

Chapter Twelve

Arianne put a second kettle of water over the small fire in the grate. When it started steaming, she would remove the empty pot and refill it. She wasn’t at all certain that the small amount of steam generated had a beneficent effect on her mother’s breathing, but the physician said it might help.

She turned to make certain her mother was still sleeping and allowed a small sigh of relief to escape. After the long night of listening to her patient gasp for air, she thought never to rest again. Her own chest ached from the struggle. Quietly she slipped from the room.

Lucinda was keeping the boys occupied in the far end of the house, but out here in the hall Arianne could hear their impatient cries and knew they would not be silent much longer. Pushing straying strands of hair from her face, she wished desperately for a few moments to wash and change and perhaps take a brief nap, but she couldn’t allow the boys to wake their mother. They were too young to understand the need for silence, although Davie had looked grave enough earlier when he had asked if their mother was going to die.

The physician had said it was not so serious as that yet, but Mrs. Richards needed time to rid her lungs of congestion. He had been quite adamant about the need for fresh air—and not just for a few days. Whatever few pounds Arianne might have realized from the painting would never have been enough for a lengthy stay anywhere. Her father would just have to be made to see that one of his collection would have to be sacrificed.

But right now she needed to get the boys out of the house. Even as she thought it, Arianne could hear hushed whoops of excitement from down the corridor. There wasn’t time to do anything but head them off and down the stairs. Ignoring the wisps of hair falling about her face and throat and the fact that she still wore a plain morning gown with only an apron to adorn it, Arianne hurried in the direction of her energetic brothers.

She stopped short at the sight greeting her on the landing. Lucinda was donning her bonnet and talking excitedly to a tall gentleman in high-crowned hat and morning coat while the boys were eagerly striving for his attention by seeing who could whisper the loudest. Arianne’s gaze flew to amused gray eyes, and her stomach lurched unexpectedly. Why on earth was Lord Locke here?

Locke whispered something to Lucinda, who immediately shepherded the boys down the stairs while he remained behind, waiting. Arianne approached him slowly, uncertain of the proper greeting for a gentleman wandering loose in this part of the house without any semblance of decorum. One would think he was part of the family.

“How is she?” Now that they were reasonably alone, Galen lost his air of amusement.

“Sleeping.” Exhaustion was responsible for the sudden appearance of tears in her eyes at his tone of concern, and Arianne rolled her hands in her apron and looked away before he could see them. “Where are you taking them?” She nodded in the direction of the departing youngsters.

“Out. Anywhere to let them work off their energies so you may have some peace. I had hoped to take you with us, but I can see it would be better if you took this opportunity to get some rest. Your hair is lovely like that, but something tells me you would not wish to be seen in my company in a public park with it down.”

Galen smiled as her hand instantly went to the straying strands. She flushed and tried not to meet his eyes, but there was something compelling about them today. Carefully she felt her way around this unprecedented occurrence. “I can be ready in a few minutes. I would not wish the entire tribe on anyone. Is Melanie with you?”

“No, she isn’t, so until we have a chance to talk, perhaps it would be best if you stayed here. I have brought along two grooms and my tiger. Surely we will be men enough to keep three little boys on a leash. I think your sister is old enough to help and not be a hindrance. I am quite capable of returning them if they grow too unruly.”

He seemed all that was sincere, and Arianne couldn’t help but be grateful for the offer. Her mother might wake at any moment, and it really wouldn’t do if there was no one here to tend to her. She just didn’t know how to graciously accept such an unexpectedly generous offer. “You are very kind. I don’t know what to say ...” She stumbled uncertainly for the proper words.

Galen caught her hand and bowed over it. “Say nothing now. We must talk later, however. Pencil me into your card, if you will.”

She didn’t know what to say to that either. Her wits were lacking after a night’s unease. She nodded, and that seemed answer enough. Locke smiled and took his leave, and she could hear the yells of the children as they went outside to discover his landau waiting. Arianne remained standing near the landing, wondering if the world had turned upside down during the night.

She was better prepared for him when next he returned. Asking the maid to look in on their patient, Arianne had managed to wash and take a brief nap before changing into her best gown of a soft rose wool. The material was a trifle warm for this time of year, but the fine nap was brushed to a polished sheen and felt good against her skin, and she knew she looked as well in it as any other gown she owned. She didn’t stop to question why she would wish to look good for her cousin’s suitor. She had every right to respond to this distinctly feminine urge. She wasn’t entirely on the shelf yet.

Her mother was still sleeping when the carriage returned, but Arianne was prepared. She sent the children back to the kitchen for the luncheon she had already made for them and steered Lord Locke into the front parlor, where she had tea and a few extra finger sandwiches ready with her own meal.

As Locke discarded his hat and cane on the rack near the door, Arianne forced herself to the easy companionship they had enjoyed these last weeks. “Do you see now why those of your set have governesses and nannies?” She gave his tousled appearance a wry look.

Galen offered a boyishly engaging grin and shook a leaf and some bit of grass from his cuff. “I can see why my valet might insist on it. Perhaps I ought to keep an extra set of clothes here, to be used for just such occasions. It’s deuced hard to keep a valet who will remove grass stains.”

Arianne bit back a smile as she glanced at the knee of his trousers. Thank heaven he had sensibly chosen a loose, casual pair instead of the knit inexpressibles most gentlemen preferred for their trips to the park. She would hate to have seen what a tumble in the grass would have done to them. “At least they spared you Puddles. Your boots show no sign of scratches.”

Galen held out a chair for her and settled easily into the one nearest. “I had forgotten my intentions of abducting your dog. Where is she today? If I do not find a solution soon, I will bring mine over here and leave him. He bit the ankle of my man of business yesterday.”

“Puddles has been banished to the kitchen temporarily, where her barks won’t disturb my mother. And if you bring your wicked animal here, I shall never forgive you. Worse yet, I might even be tempted to take revenge. I’m certain the boys could think of something devilishly suitable.”