Desires of a Baron (12 page)

“
Have a fondness for his tutor, did he?”

Lucy moved her legs to let Mr. Appleton pass with a tall stack of books. Fondness wasn’t near an accurate word to describe Seth’s feelings. Affection was better, but still not quite strong enough. “It was the worst case of calf-love I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Calf-love?”

“
Infatuation. Obsession. Undying affection.” Lucy shook her head ruefully. “I think he’d have asked her to marry him if she wasn’t already married to—” She broke off. Suddenly this memory wasn’t quite as sweet as she remembered.

“
Did you not like her husband?”

“
No, it’s not that I disliked him necessarily.” She noticed a loose thread on her purple cuff and developed an interest in fixing it.

“
Lucy?”

She sighed and let go of the little string. “My father worked in the dairy on his father’s estate and when I came of age, I was a dairymaid there.”

“Did he treat you poorly?”

“
Poorly?” She shook her head. That wasn’t a fair term to assign to Paul’s treatment of her. He’d always treated her well; it was his brother who hadn’t. Not until they were older and she had something he wanted from her, that is. “Paul was always kind. Even then.”

“
Too kind?”

Lucy flushed violently. “Heavens, no!” She reached down into the open crate at her side and removed a stack of books. “Paul wasn’t that way. His brother certainly was, but he wasn’t.” She thumbed through the stack and removed a moldy book followed by one that had no binding left. “What made it so awkward was that Paul had proposed marriage to me when we were younger and I turned him down—for his brother.” She paused. That hadn’t been so hard to confess.

“His brother didn’t return the interest?” Giles asked, his rough voice startling her.

She pressed her lips together. “No.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear it.

“
It’s of no account,” she said, waving him off. “Not all brothers are the same and neither are their intentions.” She was horrified as soon as she realized what she’d said. And even more so when Giles spoke again.

“
No, they’re not.” He hoisted a tall stack of books out of the box and set them in his lap. “You shouldn’t let his actions keep you from making another match.”

Excitement shot through Lucy and she forced her now shaking fingers to pick up another set of books. Giles had a hard time articulating things. She knew this, but was it possible that he felt the same way for her that she did for him? “Are you offering, my lord?”

“No,” he practically shouted, then blushed, presumably at calling attention to himself with his answer. “I meant with Simon.”

Disappointment crashed over her and now her hands shook for an entirely different reason: mortification and dare she admit, devastation at being rejected so coldly.
He didn’t mean to cause embarrassment or seem so cold
, she reminded herself. It was just his way. “I see…” She divided her stack of books into three little piles of like subjects and placed the unusable books back into the empty crate. “So then you’d approve such a match.”

He looked up and met her eyes. “I’m in favor.” Something was in those green orbs of his that she couldn’t place. Likely the same thing that was in his tone. It wasn’t hesitancy, though, which was a point in her favor should she accept Simon’s offer to court her, she supposed. At the same time, it only served to devastate her more. He truly wasn’t interested.

Chiding herself for wishing that he
was
even the slightest bit interested, she stood. It was better this way. At least he’d been honest with her about his lack of interest. That was more than she’d received from Sam. She choked on her bitter laughter and lifted two squat stacks of books that needed to be put away and started toward the shelves. Simon was the safer choice. She’d known that all along and now that Giles had all but given her his blessing, there was no reason she shouldn’t encourage Simon were he to be brave enough to approach her again.

Simon was brave enough, it would seem. Determined, too. With just minutes before Mrs. Appleton was to lock up and force her husband and Giles to leave with her, Simon came into the library.

“Can I talk to you for a moment alone?” he asked Lucy, the color heightening in his cheeks.

“
I don’t know if it’s proper for us to be alone—even for a moment,” she teased.

His color darkened. “Indeed. I’d just meant—”

Lucy waved him off. “I know what you meant. How about if we go over there?”

He looked to where she was pointing and nodded. When they were to where he might consider a safe distance from the others, he said, “I wanted to apologize about last week. I think I said something that was taken out of context. It would seem that I have been—” He broke off, snorted, and shook his head as if he’d thought of something humorous and perhaps inappropriate to say.

She could almost guess what it was, but had no desire to acknowledge it.

“
Nonetheless,” he continued. “I’d like to apologize and ask if you’d reconsider—or consider for the first time—allowing me to take you to see part of London tomorrow.”

Just over Simon’s left shoulder, she caught sight of Giles. He was looking at her. Or at least he had been, until she’d looked at him and caught his eye. Then he immediately turned his attention back to the final crate he was unloading. She forced her gaze back to Mr. Appleton and she considered teasing him that it wouldn’t be proper for the two of them to go anywhere without a chaperone and thought better of it. He didn’t seem the sort to have a sense of humor. Clearing her throat, she said, “Yes, Mr. Appleton, I’d be honored to accompany you tomorrow.”

“Splendid,” he said, grinning. He reached for her hand, lifted it halfway to his mouth, and then gave it a slight squeeze. “I’ll see you here tomorrow at ten o’clock?”

“
We’ll be ready,” she said.

Simon grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Chapter Sixteen

Giles couldn’t help but wonder what he’d said wrong. But something hadn’t been right for whatever it was had caused every inch of him from the top of his throat all the way to his waist to feel as if it was being crushed in an invisible vise.

This horrid sensation had begun just after telling Lucy that she had his favor to make a match with Simon and had left him unable to eat or sleep ever since. To be truthful, he didn’t care what faults she might think followed her. Nor did he care about whatever might have happened between her and the two brothers from before.

His heart squeezed yet again. He shouldn’t—no,
couldn’t
—tell her so, but it would seem she had an unnatural ability to snare the attention of brothers. She’d done the same with him and Simon. Only she’d made it seem that both of the ones from before had not been genuine and he knew without question his feelings—and Simon’s—were genuine.

Groaning, he grabbed the nearby pillow and pulled it over his face. The sun was shining in through the open curtains of his room, telling him it was past time he should be getting up.

With a snarl, he thrust the pillow aside and threw back the red velvet coverlet. He had to get up and start his day. If he were fortunate, Mr. Appleton would have finished reading through that blasted document and could help him solve the mystery that seemed to be his life.

He rolled to a sitting position and combed his fingers through his hair, yawning. He was tired; there was no doubting that he wanted to sleep. He just couldn’t. Standing, he whipped off his long, white nightshirt and pulled on the clothes Franks had laid out for him. He could just ring for the man, of course, but why bother? He was capable.

An hour later, he’d breakfasted (one bite of a biscuit), read the newspaper (what he deemed important anyway) and paced the floor for a solid forty-five minutes.

With a sigh, he left the room and went across the hall to the room he preferred to keep locked. He’d never been allowed to have many things until recently. As a boy living in the orphanage, he’d shared a room with eleven other boys and each was only allowed to keep only what could fit under his bed. When he’d traveled the continent with Sebastian, they hadn’t had a lot of money nor room to keep things. Now, he had adequate room and a little more money than before. He tried to be temperate though and didn’t decorate his house beyond what was necessary. He also preferred a clean, somewhat empty room rather than one that was crammed full of furniture and cluttered.

But this room, this room was the only such room he’d filled and he kept it locked so everything would stay contained.

The sweet smell of drying paint filled his nostrils when he opened the door. He did a slow sweep of the room, taking in all the canvases he had propped up against the walls, drying. Almost a month ago, he’d agreed to have his mother host a party in his home so Sebastian could carry out some nonsense that involved helping his estranged wife make a match. When his mother had come to see about the decorations, she’d declared this room needed to be cleared and used for entertaining that night. A card room, she’d called it. He had worked diligently since that dinner party to put everything back exactly how he wanted it.

Giles shrugged off his red coat and blue waistcoat, discarded his cravat and turned up his cuffs. He loved to paint. Or draw with pencils. Or even charcoal. He slid open the top drawer in the scratched bureau where he kept his art supplies and scoured over the bottles of paint hoping an idea of something to paint would come to him so he could get lost in his art and forget about the romance budding between Simon and Lucy.

A sudden, incessant knock on his front door put that hope to an abrupt end.

Grumbling, Giles slammed the drawer shut and stalked to the door. He waved the butler off and wrenched open the door.

“
Seth?”

Seth grinned, which did nothing to put Giles’ pounding heart at ease. “Can I come in?”

Giles stepped to the side to let the boy in. “Is everything all right?”

“
Of course.”

“
Then why are you here?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“
My mama and Simon went to some museum together and I had nothing to do.”

Giles shoved his hands into his pockets and fisted them tightly to take his mind off the jealousy that was bubbling up inside of him. “I see. They told you to come here so that I could entertain you?”

Seth shook his head vigorously. “No, my lord. It was my idea to come. I thought we should spend some time together.”

Giles raised his eyebrows. “You did?”

“Of course.”

There was no ‘of course’ to it. Something was afoot. “And why is that?”

“Well, don’t all uncles spend time with their favorite nephews?”

Giles choked. “Pardon me?”

“My mama hasn’t married Simon yet, but when she does you’ll be my uncle!” A wide grin split his face. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“
Very.”

Seth laughed at his dry tone. “So what is it you planned to do all day?”

“Paint.”

“
You paint?” Seth exclaimed, darting around Giles and going into his painting room.

Giles clenched his jaw. He’d never allowed anyone into that room. Not even his mother when she’d insisted on seeing it. He’d just said he’d have it cleared out for her. He stomped into the room, bent on scolding the boy and froze.

“You painted all of these?” he asked, standing in the middle of the room and slowly turning his head to take it all in. “I wish I could paint like that.”

“
You should try.” Giles closed his mouth with an audible snap. What the devil was he doing encouraging the boy? “At home,” he added.

Seth frowned. “And where would that be, on top of my bed or Mama’s?”

“Yours.”

Seth pressed his lips together as if he were trying to suppress a chuckle. “That’s not funny.”

“I thought it was.”

“
My mama sure won’t,” Seth said with a laugh that softened Giles’ resolve. “Now, will you teach me?

“
Teach you what?”

“
How to paint?”

“
No.”

Seth blinked. “Why not? You said you were going to paint all day anyway. Will it matter so much if I’m here, too?”

“Yes. I don’t teach.”

Shrugging, Seth walked over to the bureau and picked up one of the brushes that were soaking in a cup of water. “All right, you don’t have to teach me anything, but can I stay?”

Giles knit his brows. “And do what?”

“
Paint.”

“
But you don’t know how,” Giles pointed out.

“
That’s because you won’t teach me,” Seth argued, the corner of his mouth tipping up into the smile he usually wore. “But that’s all right. I’m sure I can paint something without any instruction.”

“
How about without making it necessary to revarnish the wood?”

“
I don’t know.” Seth frowned and lifted his shoulders. “Without anyone telling me what I’m doing right or wrong, I might make a big mess.”

The last of Giles’ resolve and unease about having Seth in the room evaporated. “Well, just see that you do it over there where the carpet runner is.”

***

“
You look fetching today,” Simon commented as they entered a crumbling white building that had the word “Museum” sloppily etched onto the side.

Lucy flushed at his compliment. He was just trying to be kind. She’d been alternating between the two same gowns ever since she’d come to London. They were both in desperate need of a scrubbing or at least a beating. “Thank you.”

Simon guided her to the right. “I hope you like statues.”

“
Of course,” Lucy lied.
Statues?
She’d seen a few when she’d lived in Bath and Shrewsbury, but hadn’t really given them a lot of thought. Especially not going to a museum to see a large number of them. Perhaps Seth got the better end of this bargain—even if he did have to spend the day cooped up at the library with a very sudden stomach affliction.

“
Good. A friend of mine owns this museum. It’s more of his private collection, actually.”

“
He has a private collection of statues?” Lucy asked around the sudden giggle that had formed in her throat.
How unusual
.

“
Yes, he’s collected more than five hundred of them.”

“
Just to display?”

“
No. He used to have a large townhouse in London where he had them in the gardens or the conservatory.”

“
Did he not think enough people were coming to see them so he decided they needed to be put into a museum?” When Simon didn’t laugh at her attempt at a jest, she sobered. “Sorry,” she murmured.

He started. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what it was you said, but I doubt it was anything to be sorry about.”

Lucy slowly cast a glance over her left shoulder to see what it was that seemed to have caught Simon’s attention, but she was too late and all she’d been able to see was the bottom of a flaring, crimson skirt just before it slipped around the corner.

Simon cleared his throat and offered her a smile. “Shall we?”

Lucy walked where he directed and stopped in front of the first statue. It was about four feet tall of a woman standing with a bowed head and her hands pressed together in front of her as if she was praying. Lucy squinted. “Is her nose chipped off?”

“
Yes,” Simon said quietly. “She was one of the Virgin Mary statues that were ordered destroyed when King Henry VIII overthrew the Catholic Church and ordered Catholicism banned and the churches along with their contents destroyed.”

“
Someone saved her?”

“
Yes. Perhaps someone who thought they could fix her. While in some places all of the statues and other decorations of the church were completely destroyed, in other places, they were merely ruthlessly taken down and damaged. To some that’d have been enough to make them worthless, but likely someone thought he had the skill to repair her.” He shrugged. “Or just didn’t care that she was incomplete.”

Lucy nodded and murmured her understanding. She didn’t intend to be cold toward something he obviously cared a great deal about, but all she saw was a statue of a noseless woman praying. She walked down to the next statue. It was another Mary. Though she appeared as if at one time she’d been identical, or very close, she had not fared nearly as well as the first Mary. This one was missing not only her nose, but her ears, too.

The next Mary was without most of her hair.

The next four Marys were missing different pieces, each one being less complete than the previous one. Lucy had to admit she was a bit unsettled that this man had collected so many broken Mary statues, but behind her, Simon took in each one as if it were the first time he’d seen it and it was some lost treasure he thought he’d never find.

Therefore, Lucy kept her lips pressed firmly together as they walked to the end of the first hall, which was made up entirely of statues of Mary. Twenty-three Marys if one wanted to be precise.

At the end of the hall they turned to the right and Lucy was slightly disappointed that she hadn’t been able to catch another glimpse of the lady who’d caught Simon’s attention earlier.

“These statues you might not find quite so interesting—”

Lucy wanted to groan. If he thought these were less interesting than the ones before, they must be terrible indeed.

“—I’m not sure where he found them, but I can certainly form a theory or two of why someone would be anxious to part with them.”

Lucy walked up to the first one and laughed. “Is that a unicorn?”

Simon scowled. “Yes. Isn’t it hideous?”

Compared to all of the praying Marys they’d seen, she didn’t think it was so bad. “I don’t know if I’d say it’s hideous. I’m sure it could be worse.”

“Ah, then you might enjoy the gargoyle.”

“
The what?”

“
Gargoyle.” He put his hand on the small of her back and just as quickly pulled it back. Clearing his throat, he pointed further down the hall. “It’s over there.”

Lucy walked to where he pointed, noting the serpents and dragons as she strolled by, then stopped when she reached this image of a half-man, half-beast standing on one hairy foot-claw with the other three raised and poised to attack with splayed fingers tipped with long, pointed nails. His mouth was open and his two dozen sharp teeth bared. His head was slightly cocked to the side with one eye opened wide and the other slightly squinting. He looked fierce. For something carved of stone, that is.

“Yes, I agree, this one is quite hideous.”

“
Then I shan’t force you to gaze upon something so ugly for a moment longer. The next hall has more mythical creatures, but they’re nymphs.”