Artful Deceptions (18 page)

“I’ve already located the key to your heart. You don’t stand a chance, my lady. Shall we return and prepare ourselves for dinner? My noble parents have agreed to meet all of you in the first salon beforehand. It seemed simpler to wait until then, if you don’t mind.”

“As if anything I thought had aught to do with anything,” Arianne sighed, taking his offered arm. “I really do believe I am superfluous to whatever is going on, so I shall just follow your lead, if you don’t mind.”

Her mockery kept him grinning the rest of the way into the house.

Chapter Fourteen

Arianne took one last look in the mirror, stuck out her tongue at the image, and swung back to face the room. Even sporting a lovely Kasmir shawl from Melanie’s wardrobe, with her hair dressed becomingly by Melanie’s maid, Arianne could not disguise the fact that she was wearing a dinner gown whose age was revealed by its design if not by the well-worn hem. Only the puffed sleeves and the low décolletage gave evidence that the gown was any different from her others.

Melanie nodded approvingly at the result. The gown’s deep blue almost exactly matched the color of her cousin’s eyes. Never having seen Arianne in anything but high-necked muslins and wools before, she had to admire the effect of the blue against skin the hue of rich cream. Arianne’s height gave natural grace to the classic lines of the gown, and although her build was not of the fragile delicacy fashion preferred, Melanie didn’t think Galen would object. She smiled as Arianne attempted to adjust the neckline of her gown upward.

“Don’t you dare! Galen will not be able to tear his eyes away. All it requires is a small rope of pearls. Elsie, fetch my pearls, please.”

Arianne started to protest, but the militant gleam in Melanie’s eyes deterred her. Whatever was going on here, it was becoming obvious that she was to be the innocent lamb led to slaughter. She allowed the pearls to be placed around her throat and adjusted her elbow-length gloves nervously. She had never been introduced to an earl before. Even Melanie’s grandfather was some invisible spider living in the hidden depths of Somerset, never to be seen but whose edicts were always obeyed.

“There, you shall be all that you ought. Even Deward cannot complain of your noble grace. We can only hope that Uncle Ross won’t begin pricing the artwork until after dinner.”

Melanie’s casual sprinkling of the earl’s title into the conversation didn’t ease Arianne’s tension. It was all very well to gad about town with a gentleman who had nothing better to do than visit Christie’s and artists, but it was quite another to act his intended before the Earl and Countess of Deward, his parents. Closing her eyes, she swayed slightly and wondered if she ought to make her excuses. Arianne couldn’t think of any enormous enough to free her from weeks of this.

“Off we go. It won’t do to keep them waiting. Can you not imagine what the topic of conversation must be with Uncle Ross and Galen in the same room? I’m certain the earl will be thoroughly relieved to have someone sensible to talk to.”

Arianne doubted that very much, almost as much as she doubted that she would be able to produce a single intelligible word. Gathering the shawl around her as a shield, she obediently trailed in her cousin’s exuberant path.

Galen instantly came forward upon their entrance, taking Arianne’s hand and drawing it through the crook of his arm, offering his other arm to Melanie. Arianne drew strength from this contact, clenching her fingers to his coat sleeve as she was led toward the far end of the room, where the earl and countess awaited.

They were older than she had expected. Galen was not so very much older than she, but his parents were considerably older than hers. The earl’s autocratic posture as he stood behind his wife’s chair was straight and strong, but his hair was white and the lines on his face were enhanced by his stern frown. The countess was of a more petite stature, her expression slightly more welcoming despite the frosty coolness of eyes the color of Galen’s. The diamonds about her throat sparkled in the lamplight, creating a regal setting for the simple coif of her graying hair.

“Miss Richards, how pleasant to meet you at last,” she murmured after Galen’s introductions. “You must tell us all about yourself at dinner. We have despaired of our son ever settling down to his responsibilities.”

“So have I,” Arianne murmured wickedly under her breath as Galen led her away. She knew he had heard her from the quick look he bestowed upon her, but they were already in the presence of her parents, and he could not make a suitable reply.

Her mother looked immensely restored by her nap, and Arianne was forced to regret her waspish words. Whatever Galen was doing, he had her mother’s best interests at heart. She shouldn’t discount his actions.

“There you are, Arianne. I was just telling Locke that his father’s collection is in need of repair. Some of those oils must have hung there a hundred years without being touched. Won’t do at all, you know.”

Arianne sent Galen a despairing look, but it was Melanie who laughed and took her uncle’s arm. “Uncle Ross, you cannot talk business so early in the evening. We must be gay and carefree, is that not so, Lord Deward?”

The older man had relaxed his military bearing enough to pour himself another drink, but he regarded this inanity with a loud “humph” and a look of irritation for Melanie’s forwardness. “Don’t see why we should if we don’t want.”

Galen chuckled. No one had ever responded to Melanie’s cheerful forthrightness with such dampening effect. “I believe, Father, you have found the cold water that dashes Lady Melanie’s effervescence. Would you care to seek the fire that defrosts Miss Richards’ icy practicality?”

The earl gave his outrageous son a glare from beneath one bushy eyebrow as he swirled his brandy. “I daresay you’ve done that already. I prefer the lady as she is, thank you. Never was one for dithering females.”

Arianne nearly swallowed her tongue at this remark, but the countess neatly interfered before a reply was necessary. “I’m certain Miss Richards is all that she should be. I believe I hear Dodson approaching to call us for dinner. Must you drink hard liquor before your meal, dear?”

By the end of that nerve-racking dinner, Arianne felt she must either have a collapse of the nerves or a bout of hysteria. Lord Deward griped or made pointed remarks when he was not silent. Lady Deward deftly shielded his targets and turned the conversation to more general topics. Ross Richards turned general conversation to art. Anne Richards wrenched art from his grip and praised the flourishing countryside. Galen adroitly embellished whichever topic came into the open, drawing Arianne along with him. Melanie limited herself to watching with amusement and speaking only when spoken to. Arianne had a wild desire for Rhys to complete this eccentric table, and wondered at her ability to think at all.

Not until the ladies withdrew to the salon, leaving the gentlemen to their drinks and cigars, did any sense come from the meeting
at all. Lady Deward immediately set about the inquisition she had promised earlier, although with such polite delicacy that Arianne felt she was being picked apart with tiny tweezers and placed in bits of cotton to be studied at leisure.

“Galen never showed a partiality for any one lady before,” the countess announced toward the end of this interrogation. “I have wondered that he has not done so. We are well-acquainted with Lady Melanie and her brothers”—she nodded in her subject’s direction—”and thought for a time there might be some interest in that direction. But she is of much too lively a spirit for this household, I can see now, my dear.”

Melanie pulled an irreverent face. “You mean I am much too young, my lady. That is not so, but I shan’t argue over Arianne’s superior qualities. I daresay she is wholly responsible for my brothers not having hanged me yet.”

Arianne had to smile at the mild shock on the countess’s face, but her mother stepped in to alleviate her niece’s rashness.

“Melanie has a blithe spirit that lights even the dimmest of rooms. She is a pleasure to have around. But even knowing I sound immodest in praising my own daughter, Arianne is a treasure I will have difficulty doing without. It is not surprising that Lord Locke has the presence of mind to recognize her quality. I understand he is much like my husband in his appreciation for the finer things of life.”

“Indeed.” The countess would undoubtedly have said more, but the men chose that moment to return, and her attention at once turned to her irascible husband, who seemed to be berating their son for some imagined transgression.

“George, you do go on.
We will not see Galen for another year if you continue so.”

Galen made a formal bow over his mother’s hand. “Do not fret,
ma mére,
we only argue to show our affection. Would you have us otherwise?”

“Yes, I would,” she replied tartly, indicating he take the chair nearest her. “I am perfectly aware that you behave like a simpleton just to annoy your father. And he puts on his worst cross-bear pride when you are around.” She threw her frowning husband an apologetic look. “You know I am right, dear. I have watched the two of you behave like sapwits long enough, and I am grown too old to watch it silently any longer. Our son is about to take a bride and have a family of his own. Unless you wish to lose him entirely, it is time to mend the bridges.”

“Can’t lose what ain’t there,” the earl growled. “Not seen the pup since this time last year.”

“I say, my lord, is this not a Reynolds?” Ross Richards turned at the silence greeting his question. Absently noting the tight expression of his host, he shrugged. “Pardon me, but your son is quite an expert on these things. His collection is becoming well-known.”

Smiling fondly at the eccentric but effective tactics of Arianne’s father, Galen addressed his elders. “I thank you for your recommendation, sir. Mr. Richards is known for his discerning eye, Father. I know you have occasionally wondered about that landscape over the sideboard. Perhaps we should allow him to examine it.”

Since the only times the earl had wondered about the landscape were when he was cursing its deplorable existence, the countess winced, but the men drifted into a discussion of the difficulty of pricing artwork, and the argument was diverted. From the sounds of the discussion under way, a new one would undoubtedly come along. Shaking her head, Lady Deward turned to her son’s betrothed.

“I shall have it on your shoulders, Miss Richards, to see that my son spends more time here in his home. It is time he began taking responsibility for what he will someday inherit.”

Dismay merged with dread as Arianne looked from the countess’s lined and sincere face to Galen’s absorbed discussion in the far corner of the room and around to the grandeur of this enormous hall. This wasn’t real, she reminded herself, but it felt very much like a trap closing around her.

* * * *

“The Llewellyn estate is not far north of here. You must persuade Galen to take us there.” Melanie excitedly bounced upon the bed when they were alone later that night. “I found a map and the directions in the library. It would make a lovely day trip. You can tell him you have an urge to see the mountains of Wales. He won’t say no to you.”

Arianne groaned and buried her head in the pillow. “He most certainly will say no to me. He’s very good at ignoring anything I say. And what do you intend to do, waltz up to the gates and smile at the gatekeeper and ask if he knows who is the true heir to the title?”

Melanie flung a pillow at her. “I am not so simple-minded. There must be a village there. People love to gossip. Perhaps Rhys’s mother’s family lives near there. They are bound to have opinions on the subject.”

“Melanie, you are a goose! If anyone knew anything at all, they would have said so by now. And don’t you think Rhys has already questioned everyone extensively? How can you think you will do better with strangers than he does with his own family?”

“Perhaps he is overlooking the obvious,” Melanie replied stubbornly. “Sometimes someone from outside can see much more clearly than those directly involved. We have to do something.”

“If I could do anything at all, I wouldn’t be here,” Arianne muttered into the feathers of her pillow, but her cousin was busily describing how she would go about winning Rhys’s fortune and didn’t hear a word.

Surprisingly, Galen agreed to the expedition when approached the next day. “I will send for Gordon. He works too hard and deserves a day of rest. We can take Luanda too, and make a party of it. If I remember correctly, there is an excellent tearoom there, and some ruins nearby we can explore. We need only keep Melanie bound and gagged, and it should be an excellent outing.”

Arianne laughed at Melanie’s strangled look, but Galen was quite correct. With her brother along, Melanie could not be too outrageous. They might not discover anything, but it would serve to ease some of the tensions pulling at them.

Arianne didn’t dare confess she had been coerced into this betrothal, nor did she wish to refine upon Rhys’s last visit to her. Galen was being close-mouthed about his reasons for constructing this betrothal so soon after his proposal to Melanie. Melanie was saying nothing about her feelings toward either gentleman or why she was so determined to discover Rhys’s origins. Talking around these topics had a decided wearing effect.

The party set out merrily the day after Gordon, Viscount Griffin, arrived. Arianne thought Gordon the more dignified of Melanie’s twin brothers, but on this outing he had obviously abandoned the daily concerns of his estates in favor of enjoying himself. Since Arianne and Lucinda could not ride, an open landau had been provided for their convenience, and Melanie chose to ride with them. Galen and Gordon tested the mettle of each other’s mounts by racing far ahead of the carriage, then returning in a swirl of dust, to the protests of the ladies.

The spectacular countryside begged to be explored, but Melanie was insistent on not stopping until they reached their destination. Lucinda cried out in joy at the sighting of each new bird and flower, until she had the men searching the hedgerows for new forms of wildlife with which to surprise her as the carriage traveled the narrow back roads.