The Duke of Shadows (22 page)

These were the paintings she had not dared send to Delphinia. The ones she had not thought her cousin could bear to see. But the Academy had requested to see them. And Lockwood had insisted.

She could not wait to get rid of the lot.

And then there was that dratted portrait of Julian, smirking at her from her elbow. She had forgotten to instruct that it be left in GemsonPark. She hauled herself to her feet and dragged it to the wardrobe. Painting was such a cumbersome art. She should have taken up the flute. Transporting it didn't make one sweat.

A knock came at the door. "A visitor, madam."

She took the card from the footman. Lady Edon. What in the world? "I will be down directly."

The Baroness rose as she entered the morning room, then resettled onto the sofa in a crunch of lace and stiffened silk. "I know we're not formally acquainted," she began, clasping her hands before her and fixing Emma with a measured look. "But I've come to believe we have reason to know each other."

Remarkable that Lady Edon's stupendous looks only improved with proximity. Her French perfume was another matter. Emma sneezed.

"Oh, dear, are you ill?" Lady Edon offered a handkerchief. "Would you like me to ring for something?"

Emma had taken the handkerchief with a polite smile, but at the rest of the offer, more fit for the hostess than the guest, she lowered it to her lap. "How kind of you. If you'd like something, Lady Edon, do not hesitate to ask for it."

A brief downward flicker of the Baroness's lashes registered the barb. "Yes, well. In fact, I hope this will be a short call. I think we have very little in common as it is, and I hope to lessen that to nothing by the end of our talk."

"Blunt of you," Emma said. The woman laughed.

"Yes! So it is. And if you'll allow me to be even more blunt, Miss Martin—I have figured out who you are."

"Indeed?" Emma leaned back into the seat. She had the advantage of the Baroness, for, when she was working, she did not wear a corset; her posture, then, could communicate indifference so much more effectively. "And who am I?"

"Fine, if you really wish me to elaborate: I know you were with Julian in India."

He had
told
her? The anger that moved through her brought her up straight again. "What of it?"

"Well, Miss Martin, forgive me if I say this happens all the time. Girls are always losing their heads over Auburn, and usually we do our best to ignore it. However, you've been plaguing him in more than the usual manner, and so I have come to warn you. You see, he tries to conduct himself honorably, but if you tease him overmuch…" Lady Edon inched to the edge of her chair, her hazel eyes widening. "He just may
bite."

"Very funny, miss. You think you're the one to save his grace from his dark past? I've seen it a thousand times—young misses guided by their overeager mamas to try to rescue the poor, misguided duke from his sinful ways. But Julian is not a boy, and you, like all the rest, will find that he has willingly chosen his path."

"What path would that be? It occurs to me to wonder if we are speaking of the same man. Yours sounds rather depraved."

"Excellent, your good sense is reasserting itself. He would hardly spare a thought on devouring you, little spinster that you are." Lady Edon's wine-colored lips stretched into a nasty smile. "And you would hardly be a cake, my dear. Perhaps a pastry puff, gone in one bite and just as easily forgotten."

"My goodness." Emma wished she had a fan; she would have snapped it open and made a show of cooling herself. "What a graphic image. I must ask, do you make it a habit to warn off each of these thousand misguided women, or am I a special case?"

"Hardly special," Lady Edon said tightly. "But you're more persistent than the rest—"

"Remarkable, seeing as I—"

"—and I won't see Julian bothered on your account."

How could Julian take up with such a dreadful woman! "Forgive me if I observe the tension in your manner. You must be unused to Julian breaking from your side to run after other women."

"You had best address him with the respect his esteemed personage decrees," Lady Edon hissed back. "No one has given you the right to use his Christian name!"

Emma smiled. "Indeed?"

After a moment, a dull flush appeared on the lady's cheeks.

"But yes," Emma continued, "that
is
what they say about the familiar address. Thank you for reminding me. May I return the favor? Calls before three o'clock are very gauche. Insulting one's hostess, even more so."

Lady Edon rose slowly, with that innate grace Emma had so admired at Lockwood's house. How deceiving it had proved. "You think you're very clever, but I'll tell you this: you would never be able to manage him. Your silly, simple country girl charms will not hold him. You will wear your heart on your sleeve, and every time you turn, you will find it bleeding and sore. His infidelities will destroy you."

Emma came to her feet as well. "I begin to wonder if you know him at all, Lady Edon. He does not strike me as the sort of man to be unfaithful."

Lady Edon rolled her eyes. "Then I change my mind; it is not Auburn who is a threat to your heart, but any red-blooded male. You'd best sequester yourself in a convent if you're not willing to face that fact." She readjusted her wrap and swept out, brushing past Delphinia on her way.

"What—" Delphinia turned to track the Baroness's departure. "What was
that
about?"

"I have no idea," Emma said. "I could not think how to stop it, once it had begun."

"Was she blaming you for her falling-out with Auburn?"

"Falling-out?" Emma's stomach contracted. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Delphinia's head tipped, her expression curious. "People are saying he broke it off with Lady Edon. Almost directly after they became engaged. Very odd. I think the man is quite unhinged, coz. Did you know, he has been thrown out of Brooks's for attacking Marcus? They're working very hard to keep it quiet, because they can't prosecute him, you know; the party needs his vote too badly, and besides, he could bring down the Bank of England if he liked. But if it were to hit the papers that he'd maimed the Avenger of Cawnpore? Why, I believe there would be rioting in the streets!"

Emma snatched up Lady Edon's discarded handkerchief. She saw now that it was monogrammed with Julian's initials. Of course. The Baroness must have regretted her failure to notice it earlier. She stuffed it into her pocket. "Have the carriage sent round. I am paying him a call."

"Oh! Are you mad? Did you not hear what I just told you?"

Emma gave her a sharp look. "You must stay out of it, coz."

She should not be thinking of his bed.

The footman finally appeared to escort her into the study. Julian was seated at a desk at the far end, beneath a mullioned window that shed cold light across the mahogany appointments. He did not rise as she approached. "Emma. Alone? What a surprise. Do come sit."

The greeting threw her off. She paused for a moment, then drew herself up and crossed the broad expanse. He was working in a ledger. Bookkeeping. She had never imagined him as a man of business. Politics and war, yes; they were complex and fierce enough to suit his temperament. But something as tedious as accounting? It did not square.

As she took her seat, she said, "You don't look like a man who's been on the tear."

He laid down his pen and raised his head. "What does such a man look like?"

She saw now that she had not been precisely correct: there were shadows beneath his eyes, as if his sleep were poor as well. The sight made her uncomfortable, and so she let her gaze wander. It seemed Marcus had not gotten in a single punch—unless that shadow at the edge of his jaw was slight bruising, and not some trick of the light or oncoming beard. He was dressed very casually, a white shirt beneath a slate waistcoat and jacket. His four-in-hand tie was loosened. He could have quickly fixed that. But evidently he felt that her presence occasioned no formalities.

Her unease increased. "You have broken off with Lady Edon."

He merely looked at her for a moment. Then he smiled a little. "Hmm. You know, I never thought to see you here. Particularly not after our little scene the other night."

"And I don't want to be here," she said. "But—"

"But here you are. Never say someone forcibly delivered you? I'll send round for the police."

Difficult not to feel foolish. "I felt it imperative that I make clear my feelings once more."

"Good God." He leaned back. "Have pity on a man's vanity, Emma. What next, an advertisement in the
Times?"

"Whyever should you think that?"

His face was too striking to effect true blandness. He would never be able to temper the vibrancy of his eyes, or the dramatic planes of his face; these were inbuilt. But he was doing a very good job of aping mildness, and she found it provoking. "I don't see the point of this. The other night, you implied I was a hypocrite. Now you're the one who's being disingenuous."

"Am I? Nevertheless, humor me. Why should it concern you?"

"The Baroness seems to think it does."

The leather armchair creaked as he settled back. His fingers tapped together in a steeple, thoughtful. "She told you so herself, did she?"

"In fact, yes. She came to see me today."

"Ah. Well, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. She misunderstood me." His voice was pleasant to the point of rudeness. It might have been anyone sitting across from him, if not for that loosened necktie, and everything … else.

She waited. He did for a moment as well; and then, with a small shrug, he retrieved the pen and bent back over the accounts. An irritating scratching noise announced his progress down the page.

"You have more faces than a pair of dice," she said.

His brows arched, but he did not look up. "Which is your favorite?"

"This one, I suppose. It is the most remote."

"Did you come especially to see it?"

"I told you why I came. I—"

He stood suddenly and came around the desk, tossing down the pen as he advanced. She made to rise but his hands closed on the arms of her chair, caging her as he leaned down to speak. "You must make up your mind, Emma. At the Ardsmores', you told me to leave you alone. Now it seems you come seeking my attention. Although you might have picked a better way to get it. Think back on India; perhaps you'll remember a few of the things I taught you. Though"—his glance flicked down her—"you are not dressed properly for it. Too many clothes."

She felt her upper lip curl. "You are crude."

"I am busy," he said, and his eyes slammed up into hers. "And you are prying into matters that are none of your concern." He straightened and withdrew.

"Excellent to hear it! I will be going, then."

"By all means." He leaned back against the desk. "Or say why you're really here."

But suddenly she no longer knew why she had come. The news that he had broken off from the Baroness had seemed very alarming at first hearing—proof that he intended to keep pursuing her. For why else the sudden break? And then there was the other news from Delphinia—and all she had been able to think during the ride here was,
You mustn't let me do this to you, you mustn't. It is all for naught;
you
are chasing
a ghost
. But now, under the weight of his cold, measuring stare, she felt the biggest idiot. Pompous, even. For he was perfectly well. Composed as a block of ice in Norway. No danger of a melt.

She made to rise.

"I can tell you this," he said suddenly. "We are no longer engaged. And I do admire your conscientious impulse; had I indeed tossed her over for you, I suppose it would be very good to know that you remain uninterested."

She hesitated, then sat back down. Despite this callous routine, she simply could not believe him. "I
do
think it unwise. You should take her back."

"What an odd conversation we're having," he said softly. "The oddest yet, I think."

She willed her face to yield not so much as a twitch as she stared at him. "I simply thought to warn you. To caution you. As a
—friend,
if you like. Not to be hasty or reckless. That is all."

"A friend." He smiled. "Charming. Are we to be friends now?"

"I—we have been friends in the past, I think."

"Oh, but the
past,"
he said. "Water under the bridge, and all that."

There was a trap here, and she had not only walked into it, she had fashioned it. "I should not have come."

"But now that you are here, you must not run away so quickly. After all, we are
friends.
Delightful!" He shoved the ledger aside to sit down on the desktop. "So tell me," he said, his eyes moving over her face, "what has my
friend
been doing today? Aside from receiving calls from Lady Edon."

He was different, she thought. Time had worn deeper grooves around his eyes; she did not think they had come from laughter. And this jaded quality—this easy talent for mockery—it had not been there in India. Had it? "I have been uncrating paintings," she said. "And thinking of starting another one."

"Excellent. Full of blood and guts and gore."

"No, in fact. As I told you, I'm done with the past. I am seeking a fresh start."

"Ah. So, flowery bowers and whatnot?"

These casual little stabs were dizzying. She could not track why she should feel so hurt by them, and as she tried to puzzle out the cause of one, she was already smarting from the next. "Something like that. If I can manage it. I'm not very good at it yet."

"Perhaps the subject matter is lacking. It is not very exciting, after all. Or…" He paused. "Perhaps what's lacking is your imagination."

She narrowed her eyes. "You are angry with me."

He shrugged.

"Very angry," she said, and rose. "I understand. As I said, I should not have come."

"No, you should not have done. But I am touched by your earnest little concern for me."

"It was not
you,
it was your connection with the Baroness—"

"Your concern for Caroline, then. How good of you to care."

Caroline.
He spoke her name so familiarly. She clenched her fists. "You are—"

"If it soothes your conscience, I can say that my connection with the Baroness had been deteriorating for some time. Long before you popped out of hiding."

That word again! "I was not in
hiding."