An Invitation to Sin (31 page)

Hogarty scratched at the door. "My lord? The Duke of Melbourne is here to see—"

"Christ. Tell him to wait in the foyer. I'll be out in a moment."

"Very good, my lord."

Caroline scrambled to her feet beside him. As he looked down at himself, he knew there was no way he could possibly be rendered presentable in the next five minutes—probably not in the next hour. "Oh, well," he grumbled and pulled on his trousers.

Sebastian had to know sooner or later. It might as well be now.

For once in his life, Sebastian wasn't entirely certain what he wanted to say or what he wanted to accomplish. But the fact that Zachary had spent most of two days back at his old residence didn't bode well for any of them.

With the drinking and aloof sadness Sebastian sensed in his brother, intervening was worth another fight, as far as he was concerned. This… sorrow would not continue. Restless and concerned, he stood rock still in his brother's foyer and refused to pace.

"What is it, Melbourne?" Zachary's voice came from the morning room doorway.

Relaxing an inch that his brother hadn't refused to see him, Sebastian turned from perusing one of the framed paintings in the hallway. Zachary had a more refined taste than he'd expected. "I wanted to talk to… What the devil is wrong with you?"

Zachary grinned, a dark blue stain running from his chin up to one ear. "Not a thing. Why?"

"But the…" Sebastian trailed off, taking in the red and blue and green smears across his brother's bare chest and arms and hands. "You're very… colorful."

"And your point is?"

Sebastian gazed at his brother for a long moment. Something was definitely going on, and it was an odd and uncomfortable feeling not to know what it might be. He was used to being in control of not only himself but also everything around him. "I'm not entirely certain what my point is," he said finally. "Are you planning on moving away from Griffin House again?"

"I think it may be time."

It took a great deal of Sebastian's famous self-control to keep from reacting to that, and to smother the sudden memory of the days after Charlotte had died, when he'd been alone in a large, empty house except for a small, crying, three-year-old girl. But this wasn't about him. It was about Zachary. "You'll still winter at Melbourne Park, I hope."

"That would be up to you, Seb."

"Up to—"

The morning room door opened again, and Caroline Witfeld emerged. The puzzle pieces fell into place. Her mouth was the same blue, her hands and arms a myriad of blue and yellow streaks. She dipped a curtsy, her blue mouth quirked in what looked very much like amusement.

"Miss Witfeld," he said, automatically sketching a return bow.

Zachary took her hand. "Caroline and I are marrying," he said, his voice cool and confident and defiant.

"Yesterday you weren't speaking," Sebastian noted.

"We've resolved our differences."

"Colorfully, apparently."

Caroline blushed. Today hadn't gone remotely as she'd expected, but she wasn't about to complain about it. My goodness. When she'd set eyes on Zachary, time had simply stopped. And then he'd said all the right things, and more importantly, she'd seen the sincerity and the loneliness in his face. The loneliness that had mirrored her own. And now she would be able to wake up to him in the morning, and to see him when she went to sleep, and to chat and banter with him about anything she wished to during the day. It was too much.

"You're giving up your painting, then?" the duke asked, his keen gaze no doubt taking in her every expression.

She squared her shoulders, secretly grateful for Zachary's hand in hers. Standing up to the Duke of Melbourne wasn't easy even for his own family members— one of which she was apparently about to become.
Good heavens
. "No, I'm not."

"She may set up a studio here. We haven't decided yet."

Melbourne nodded. "I came here to tell Zachary that I've decided to step back from this. Apparently I didn't need to make the effort."

"You could make the effort of apologizing for interfering in the first place," Zachary suggested.

"If I do so, will you spend die winter at Melbourne?"

Caroline remembered what Zachary had told her, about how badly the duke had taken his wife's death, and how important it had become to him to have his family close by. "You may be inviting my entire family, you realize," she said with a slight smile. "I think you should know all the details before you issue an invitation."

"Your entire family," the duke repeated, humor touching his voice. "Well, I suppose if the Griffins can withstand having a professional portraitist in the family, we can survive Christmas with the Witfelds." He offered his hand to Zachary. "I apologize. I shouldn't have meddled. I didn't want to see you unhappy, and being without Miss Witfeld obviously made you so."

Zachary shook his oldest brother's hand. "I accept."

"And bring Miss Witfeld along for dinner. I've met her family, and now she needs to meet the rest of yours."

With a nod, the duke left. Still holding Caroline's hand, Zachary led the way toward the stairs. "Hogarty, have a bath brought up to my bedchamber," he said over his shoulder.

"Right away, my lord."

Caroline blushed, though with all the colors on her, Zachary probably couldn't tell. "Zachary, everyone will know… you know… what we've been doing."

"And they won't if you leave the house covered in paint?"

She sighed, leaning into his shoulder. "Which rest of your family is here?"

"My sister Eleanor and her husband Valentine, and Peep. Sebastian's daughter. She's six. And don't worry, she'll be ecstatic that your joining the family will help balance the ratio of females to males." He looked at her as they topped the stairs, then leaned down to kiss her, slow and deep. "I've been thinking," he murmured, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, "that I'd like to take you to Paris for our honeymoon."

"Paris," she repeated shakily. The Louvre was in Paris. The
Mona Lisa
was in Paris.

"And then Greece. And anywhere else you'd care to see. Then maybe my family will finally realize that my interest in art is very," and he kissed her again, "very," another kiss, "serious."

"Art and cows, you mean."

He laughed. "The cows are staying in Wiltshire. And you, my living work of art, are coming with me to take a bath." Zachary lifted her in his arms and carried her, laughing, into his bedchamber.