Courting the Countess (21 page)
Read Courting the Countess Online
Authors: Barbara Pierce
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance
They held each other in the garden, unaware that their tenderness was being observed. Ham watched them from an upper-story window. With clenched fists he fought the urge to march into the garden and tear Brook out of Claeg’s embrace. He was a generous man. Had he not offered his own sister up to Claeg for his amusement as long as it meant that he kept away from Lady A’Court? Claeg was not interested in May. The loving scene below revealed how close he and the countess had become. Something had to be done, Ham thought as he sipped Ludlow’s brandy to stop the tremors in his hands. Something violent.
“I had despaired that Mr. Claeg would ever summon me,” May Hamblin said. She gingerly touched her new bonnet in several strategic spots, fretting that it was spoiling the curls she had spent over an hour creating.
Brook had not known of Mallory’s interest in completing May’s picture until her brother had sent a messenger politely requesting that she act as chaperone for May. Feeling guilty about their argument days ago when she had abandoned him for Mallory, Brook had agreed. Besides, she did not trust May Hamblin. The ambitious young woman had her eye on Mallory Claeg. With his father so ill, the notion of becoming the new Lady Keyworth probably was an added enticement.
“He returned to London for his family. Everything else became secondary.”
“Not everything,” May countered slyly. “Mr. Claeg was at the Vining sisters’ card party two evenings past. You should have joined us. Miss Nost made such an embarrassing fuss when he entered the room.”
“Oh really.” Ham had not mentioned the Vining sisters’ card party. “What did Miss Nost do?”
Enjoying that her connections in the
ton
exceeded Brook’s, May was happy to share all the details. She shifted in the carriage seat so they were face-to-face. “Well, the poor girl has been pining, absolutely
pining,
for Mr. Claeg since her father
commissioned a portrait in honor of her twentieth birthday. According to Miss Grearson, who heard the tale from Miss Swern, who swears upon her mother’s grave that what I am about to tell you is entirely true, Mr. Claeg had expressed a desire to paint Miss Nost disrobed.”
ton
exceeded Brook’s, May was happy to share all the details. She shifted in the carriage seat so they were face-to-face. “Well, the poor girl has been pining, absolutely
pining,
for Mr. Claeg since her father
commissioned a portrait in honor of her twentieth birthday. According to Miss Grearson, who heard the tale from Miss Swern, who swears upon her mother’s grave that what I am about to tell you is entirely true, Mr. Claeg had expressed a desire to paint Miss Nost disrobed.”
Since he had expressed the same desire about her, Brook was beginning to wonder how many other women had received his generous invitation.
Duplicitous scoundrel
. “I assume Mr. Nost called him out.”
Duplicitous scoundrel
. “I assume Mr. Nost called him out.”
“Miss Nost never told him.”
She just told a few gossiping women so that everyone within a twenty-mile radius knew about it. Recalling some of the vile gossip Brook had heard about Lyon and herself, she sighed. She silently apologized for the unkind name she had called him.
“Miss Grearson went on to say that Miss Nost, although shocked by his outrageous suggestion, later relented when she recognized the course her errant heart had taken. Wanting to prove her love, she was prepared to deliver herself completely and succumb to the passions he inspired.”
Brook, catching herself pouting, bit her lip in punishment. “Pray continue. I cannot wait to hear the rest.”
Engrossed in the retelling of the scandalous tale, May leaned closer. “I was told Miss Nost had arrived in the painting room at Mr. Claeg’s town house before him. Stripped bare all the way to her toes, she presented herself like a nobleman’s succulent feast on Boxing Day.”
“Good grief,” Brook said, suddenly feeling pity for the young woman. “I am guessing this tale does not end well.”
“Indeed, it does not!” May exclaimed with malicious relish. “Mr. Claeg entered the painting room as Miss Nost had imagined he would, but he was not alone. The girl’s father had just arrived and a friend from the Royal Academy had joined them. The housekeeper was behind the trio with tea and cakes!”
“What happened next?”
“Miss Nost was so overcome with humiliation, she just stood there and screamed. It was Mr. Claeg who hastily produced some drapery so the housekeeper could respectfully cover up the poor girl. Miss Swern says the friend from the Royal Academy was so impressed with Miss Nost’s lungs that he offered Mr. Nost twice the value of the painting. Out of respect for his daughter, the man naturally refused all offers.”
Brook laughed at the ridiculousness of the tale. “So what happened at the Vinings’ card party?”
“This part of the tale I witnessed firsthand. When Mr. Claeg entered the room, Miss Nost was visibly upset by his presence. Unaware that he was the source of her agitation, Mr. Claeg innocently approached Mr. Nost and his daughter to pay his respects. Before he could speak, her face went white and she fainted. Her skull would have been bashed in by one of the tables if Mr. Claeg had not caught her up into his arms when she slumped over. The circumstances that led up to her ignoble fall were what everyone was talking about for the rest of the evening. Disgraced, Miss Nost left soon after she was revived.”
Brook could not wait until she cornered Mallory for his version of the tale. “With the exception of Lady Lumley’s dog choking to death on Mrs. Sheers’s ruby and diamond ring one evening, nothing interesting ever happened at the card parties I attended.”
As they climbed up the stairs of Mallory’s town house behind the housekeeper, Brook noticed the strong odor of linseed oil and turpentine was pervasive throughout. She glanced at May and watched her nose wrinkle in reaction.
“I suppose one grows accustomed to it,” Brook said, unconvinced. The house smelled worse than the cottage in Cornwall.
“I barely notice it myself anymore,” the housekeeper replied. “He’ll be in the painting room with Gill.”
Mallory had not mentioned Gill. It was a reminder of how little Brook knew about his life in town. She and May paused at the threshold, allowing the servant to announce them.
“Mr. Claeg, you have guests, sir. A Miss Hamblin and Lady A’Court.”
Peering around the large canvas he was working on, Mallory smiled and devoured Brook with his hungry gaze. “Ladies. Welcome.” Coatless, he had donned an apron to protect his clothing. When he lifted his arms in greeting, she noted his rolled-up sleeves were splattered with green and black paint. “Gill, come out from your hiding place and meet my friends.”
“I’m moving as fast as I’m able.” A small youthful face popped out from the doorway to the left of them. “Which one is which, Claeg?” The adolescent stepped completely into view. “Wait, I recognize this one.” Pointing at Brook, Gill said, “This is your bluebell countess.”
“That’s right. This is Lady A’Court,” Mallory said, pleased his companion was able to recognize the lady who had inspired his work. “Come closer. Mrs. Lane is promising us sweets now that my model has arrived. Gill, the other lovely lady is Miss May Hamblin.”
“A pleasure, ladies,” Gill said, tugging the worn edge of his cap.
Something about the dress May wore lured Gill closer. She shied away when the adolescent tried to stroke the fabric. “You will get it dirty,” May said, moving closer to Brook.
Not offended, Gill snickered, looking at Mallory to share in his amusement. “Not worth a farthing if it can’t be petted a little.”
May gasped. “Mr. Gill, I find your coarse manners revolting.”
Gill held his sides and collapsed onto the floor laughing. May’s puzzled frown became more pronounced when her insult was met with laughter.
Mallory’s grin widened. Brook could tell he was thinking about how much he liked petting her. He chuckled at her blush. “I cannot fault your logic, Gill. However, you have to treat some ladies like the Egyptian artifacts you prize at the museum.”
Understanding the odd explanation, the adolescent nodded. Brook wondered how the fifteen-year-old was connected to Mallory. Something about the upturned gaunt face was familiar.
“I prefer touching.” Gill let Mallory haul him up.
Winking at Brook, he said, “As do I, Gill. As do I.”
Brook’s curiosity was soon satisfied about Gill’s presence. Once Mallory had settled May into her old pose and begun to paint, Gill retrieved a sketching book from a leather satchel on the floor. As the adolescent flipped through the thick pages, even Brook’s inexperienced eye recognized talent.
“You are an artist.”
Gill’s gaze locked onto hers and narrowed. Accepting Brook’s words as a compliment, the youth shrugged. “Aye. That’s what I keep telling Claeg, here.”
“Gill is my new apprentice,” Mallory said from behind the canvas.
“His temporary apprentice,” Gill corrected. “We are still haggling the finer points of our arrangement.”
Selecting a black lead pencil, Brook watched as May Hamblin’s face was defined with a few hastily scrawled lines. Mallory’s new assistant was very good.
“Gill is demanding cakes every day. This provision has forced me into renegotiating Mrs. Lane’s wages.”
“An apprentice is akin to a servant,” May argued, unable
to move her head, so she missed Gill’s scowl and furious slash with his pencil. “An unpaid servant, I believe. What is there to bargain?”
to move her head, so she missed Gill’s scowl and furious slash with his pencil. “An unpaid servant, I believe. What is there to bargain?”
Brook gazed down at Gill’s sketch and choked on her laughter. The youth had given May three eyes and horns. Hearing Brook’s laughter, Gill stiffened his shoulders. As the child looked back, something in his expression triggered why the face seemed so familiar. When Lyon was still alive and tormenting Brook, she had glimpsed the same frightened expression in her own mirror.
“Gill is a girl,” Brook flatly stated.
Grinning up at her, Gill said, “That’s five shillings you owe me, Claeg.”
“There was some kind of wager?” May asked. As she waited a beat, Brook’s observation sank in. “That’s a girl?”
Disgusted, Mallory slapped down his brush. “Damn! It took me days to figure out the lad was a she. What gave her away?”
Everyone stared at Brook. “I am not sure.” She did not want to talk about the past in front of Gill and May. “A feeling more than anything, I suppose.”
Mallory gestured at the cheeky fifteen-year-old. “Ladies, meet Gillian, or Gill, as everyone calls her.”
Holding out a paint-smudged hand, the girl said primly, “Miss Gillian Revil.” Brook shook her hand.
“Gillian Revil.” Mallory shook his head. “Changing your last name again, are you?”
“I like it,” Gill shot back. “It suits me. A lot like the extra five shillings I will have in my pocket.”
Mallory had been pleased with how he had maneuvered Brook into visiting his home until it was obvious that getting her alone was bloody unlikely with shrewd Miss Hamblin watching over them.
“You can move about, Miss Hamblin. I need to mix up
more paint before we continue.” Mallory made a soft clicking sound with his tongue as he thought up excuses to pull the countess into the smaller workroom. So far,
Lady A’Court, would you like to help me stir?
was his best effort. Pathetic.
more paint before we continue.” Mallory made a soft clicking sound with his tongue as he thought up excuses to pull the countess into the smaller workroom. So far,
Lady A’Court, would you like to help me stir?
was his best effort. Pathetic.
“Thank goodness,” Miss Hamblin said, wincing as she stretched her arms and wiggled her fingers. “If I had held that pose a minute longer, it would have been permanent.”
“And a lovely addition to the other useless garden statues the birds make use of you would have been, too,” Gill mumbled under her breath.
“Did you say something, Miss Revil?”
“I says, Miss,” Gill said, overenunciating, much to Mallory’s merriment. “What you need is a tour.”
“Half the time, I have no idea what you are saying,” Miss Hamblin said, giving her a pitying look.
“To move about … put the blood back into your scrawny limbs.” Gill walked in a circle, waving her arms. “This is only a workroom. You haven’t seen the other rooms. The ones Claeg keeps up nice and clean for high-and-mighty patrons.”
“Gill.”
“Let me show her,” Gill pleaded to Mallory. “I won’t touch anything. I swear. Miss Hamblin will keep me honest. Come on, what have you to say?” she cajoled.
Gill, bless her, had innocently handed him the perfect excuse to separate the countess from her charge.
“If you run into Messing, tell him that you were under orders to show Miss Hamblin the drawing room.”
“Aye, Claeg. It’d be my pleasure.” Gill reached for Miss Hamblin’s hand and then thought better of it. “Come along, Miss. Something tells me that you and that fancy dress will fit nicely in this room.”
Not knowing how to refuse the enthusiastic girl without offending her host, Miss Hamblin beseeched her chaperone, “Brook, are you joining us on our tour?”
Mallory stepped between them. Smoothly he lied, “The
countess has seen the room. She can lend a hand stirring the paints.” He shrugged at Brook, who looked at him in genuine disbelief. It had sounded better in his head.
countess has seen the room. She can lend a hand stirring the paints.” He shrugged at Brook, who looked at him in genuine disbelief. It had sounded better in his head.
“Off we go, Miss.” Gill spurred Miss Hamblin along by reaching out for her dress. She shrieked and hurried out the door. The girl paused. “Showing her everything will take some time. You’ll be owing me double the amount of cakes for this favor, Claeg.” Whistling, Mallory heard Gill order Miss Hamblin to slow down.
The imp knew what he was about all along. Solving his dilemma of distracting Miss Hamblin had earned Gill extra cakes for an entire month.
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