Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke (16 page)

“I came looking for you to let you know Lady St. John is here,” Sean said.

“Oh, how nice. She did say she would call today. We were about to return to the house anyway. Lord Vincent has offered to discover the identity of the forger for us.”

Sean frowned. “You told him about that?”

Nia shrugged. “He caught me at a weak moment.”

“You can be assured of my discretion, Trafford,” Lord Vincent said as they made their way back through the trees together. “I was about to ask your sister to introduce us so that I could discuss the matter with you and make a few suggestions.”

Sean nodded his approval, appearing to overcome his objections to Lord Vincent’s interference with remarkable speed. It was already evident to Nia that once Lord Vincent set his mind upon a particular course of action, charm, authority and determination ensured that no one stood in his way.

“My sons have been talking non-stop about their visit to your stud, Lord Vincent. I must say, it was very kind of you to take an interest in them.”

“They are fine boys. You ought to be proud.”

“Oh, believe me, I am.”

When they reached the house, Frankie and Sophia were seated in the drawing room, such as it was, chatting amiably as they sipped at tea from mismatched cups. Frankie stood and hugged Nia when she entered the room. If she was surprised to see Lord Vincent it did not show in her manner and she greeted him with easy friendliness.

Nia disengaged from Frankie’s embrace and cleared her throat. “Lord Vincent, may I present Miss Sophia Ash.”

“Miss Ash.” Lord Vincent sent her an engaging smile as he took her hand and raised her from her curtsey. “It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours, my lord.”

Sophia had not forgotten how to deploy the feminine wiles that had helped her rise to the top of her profession. Her own smile was soft, sultry and just a little wicked. Lord Vincent appeared captivated by it since he held her hand for far longer than politeness dictated. Jealousy tied Nia’s insides into a vicious knot, which infuriated her. She had no reason to be jealous of Sophia. Lord Vincent was nothing to her. Besides, Sophia meant nothing by her flirtatiousness. It was just her manner.

Sophia finally resumed her seat, sending Nia an approving nod as she did so. God in heaven, what was going through that calculating brain of hers now? Hannah appeared with more tea. With a wink at Nia, she closed the door as she left them, presumably to discourage Mr. Drake or Miss Tilling from inflicting themselves upon them. Nia didn’t doubt that they were both lurking close by, keen to know what was transpiring.

“Who is with Grandpapa?” Nia asked.

“He is having a good day,
chérie,
” Sophia replied. “The most lucid he has been for weeks. The boys are up there with him and he is teaching them to play chess.”

Nia brightened. If her grandfather was clear-headed enough for chess, that was a very good sign. “That should keep them occupied for a while,” she replied.

“Sean has been telling me about his findings in London, Nia,” Frankie said. “I am so very sorry it has come to this.”

“Thank you, but it only confirms what we already suspected.”

“Who owns this latest forgery?” Lord Vincent asked.

“Sir Angus Smythe,” Sean replied.

“Brooke Street?”

“Yes. You know him, I assume.”

“He is a member of my club. Who has the other two?”

Sean gave the names but Lord Vincent shook his head. “I don’t think I am acquainted with either of them.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Sean replied. “They are wealthy nabobs who wouldn’t move in your social circles.”

“No matter.”

Lord Vincent paused to sip his tea. He was elegantly draped in an old armchair that she happened to know was excruciatingly uncomfortable, as was all the furniture in this room. It was the shabbiest room imaginable, and their sophisticated visitor ought to have looked quite out of place in it. Instead, he gave every impression of being perfectly at his ease. Nia and Hannah had done their best to brighten the space up with vases of flowers plucked from the wilderness that had once been a garden, and displaying the few decent remaining ornaments in their possession. Two of their grandfather’s paintings, favourites of Nia’s that she had so far stubbornly refused to sell, hung on the walls.

If Lord Vincent noticed the dilapidated state of his surroundings, he was far too well-mannered to comment upon them as, of course, was Frankie.

“You said just now that you had an idea how to expose the forger,” Nia said when Lord Vincent did not immediately speak again.

“Yes, about that. Is your grandfather absolutely determined not to do more portrait work?”

“He cannot, or rather he could, but we as a family are not prepared to take the risk with his reputation,” Sean answered before Nia could. “It is all he has left, and is precious to him, as it is to us all.”

“I understand that, but if he were to be commissioned to paint a portrait of someone who knows of his condition and would not speak of it—”

“A person of consequence?” Frankie caught Lord Vincent’s eye and smiled, as though she knew what or whom he was referring to. Nia did not, but she sat forward and fixed Lord Vincent with an intent look.

“Precisely so,” Lord Vincent said in reply to Frankie’s question.

“A duke, perhaps.”

Nia gasped. “Your brother…his grace…but I do not see how…” Too surprised to string an intelligible sentence together, Nia shared a glance with an equally astounded-seeming Sean and gave up trying.

“That is a remarkably generous offer,” Sean said, recovering first. “But I do not see how it would serve.”

“There is nothing generous about it. Zach’s portrait is long overdue, but he keeps finding reasons to delay sitting for it. Our mother often remarks upon his neglect in that regard. To have such an eminent artist accept the commission would be sufficient to rouse even Zach from his
ennui.”
Lord Vincent paused. “Naturally, we would pay the going rate for your grandfather’s services and consider ourselves fortunate to have secured them.”

“You are too generous,” Sophia said
sotto voce,
clearly as shocked as Nia felt.

“It
is
remarkably generous of you,” Nia agreed, “but, like Sean, I fail to see how that would help to catch the forger.”

“Nothing could be simpler,” Lord Vincent replied, placing his cup aside and leaning back in his uncomfortable chair. Nia thought she saw him wince. So he
was
human after all and the discomfort was finally getting the better of him. “Does your grandfather paint quickly?”

“Extremely,” Sean replied. “Just so long as he is mentally acute, of course, but there is no rhyme or reason as to his state of mind, unfortunately.”

“If he has his wits about him the entire time, how quickly would such a portrait be finished?”

Nia and Sean exchanged a look. “Two to three weeks should be sufficient,” Nia replied.

“Then even allowing for twice that long, we could set a date for six weeks’ time for a private preview at Winchester Park of your grandfather’s landscapes, with the portrait of my brother forming the centrepiece. The viewing, as I say, would be private but word would spread; you may rest easy on that score. And that word would tell the world that Patrick Trafford’s star is still very much in the ascendency.”

Nia was again almost lost for words. “You would do that for us?” she managed to stutter.

“With the greatest of pleasure, Miss Trafford,” he replied, sending her a searing smile that heated her cheeks, and all the rest of her. “The event would be invitation only, but it would be the most natural thing in the world for you to invite Smythe, Trafford, given that you recently viewed his forgery.”

“And you intend to invite Patrick’s students as well, the ones we think might be responsible for the forgeries, in the hope that Sir Angus will recognise the one who sold him his painting?” Sophia’s smile was radiant. “But that is inspired!”

“If the forger transacted the business with Smythe in person,” Lord Vincent warned them, raising a hand as though he did not wish to raise their hopes. “My suspicion is that he most likely would have done. He couldn’t risk including anyone else, unless he trusted them absolutely, for fear of the deceit being discovered.”

“You know,” Sean mused, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he thought the matter through. “It just might work. We had the devil’s own job getting rid of the three people we suspect. They would jump at the chance to have anything to do with Grandpapa again, and if one of them does not, then his reluctance will reveal him as the forger.”

“Who are the individuals in question?” Lord Vincent asked.

“There is a fellow called Parish,” Sean answered. “Damned good artist, but Grandpapa doubted if he would ever get to exploit his talent because he was prone to prolonged fits of depression. When in that condition, it wasn’t uncommon for him to abuse those who had commissioned portraits, or destroy perfectly good work because something about it offended his artistic eye.”

“Artists can be very temperamental,” Sophia pointed out.

“He left us because he became engaged to an heiress,” Sean said.

“Well then, I don’t suppose he’s our man,” Lord Vincent replied.

“He might well be,” Sean said. “The engagement was broken when the young lady’s father learned of it. He had not given his permission for it and did not approve of Parish. He seemed to think he could re-join our household at that point, but I set him straight on that matter.”

“In which case, he could be set upon revenge,” Lord Vincent mused.

“There is another gentleman by the name of Kenton,” Nia said, looking at her hands as she spoke his name.

“Bounder tried to take liberties with my sister,” Sean said, scowling. “I sent him packing as soon as I heard of it.”

“The devil he did!” Lord Vincent muttered.

“Actually, he proposed to me, I declined and he accepted my decision. The unpleasantness only exists in Sean’s mind,” Nia said, blushing. “We got along quite well and he mistook my friendship for something more than it was. I did not wish to marry Mr. Kenton, but I don’t think for one moment that he is responsible for the forgeries.”

“Is he capable of painting them?” Lord Vincent asked.

“All three of the men in question are,” Sean answered before she could. “But my sister is right, I suppose. Perhaps I overreacted a little.”

Nia quirked a brow. “A little?”

“Kenton remained in Belgium when we returned to England and my understanding is that he was starting to make a name for himself in his own right. Unless his fortunes took a downturn, he would have no reason to turn forger.”

“All right,” Lord Vincent said. “I accept what you say, but will bear his name in mind. Who is the third suspect?”

“A man by the name of Weale,” Sean said. “He returned to England with us but left us a few months ago because he received several commissions after exhibiting his work with Grandpapa’s last collection. However, there was some unpleasantness over one of them, we never did learn what. Word spread and the rest of the commissions were withdrawn.”

“He most likely became too attached to the sitter’s daughter, or wife, or some female beneath his care,” Sophia said. Nia widened her eyes. She had not realised Mr. Weale was a womaniser, whereas Sophia had clearly got his measure. “Anyway, he tried to re-join us when we moved here, but Sean wouldn’t allow it.”

“All three of them could easily have convinced themselves they have reasons aplenty to feel aggrieved,” Lord Vincent remarked in a considering tone.

“Yes, I imagine so,” Nia replied.

“Are they all in England? You mentioned Kenton remained in Brussels.”

“I believe he has now returned to these shores,” Sean replied.

“Do you have means of contacting them?”

Sean nodded. “Oh yes, I know where they all are, sure enough. Since we got wind of the forgeries, I have made it my business to find out.”

“Well then, what do you say to my suggestion? I hope, if your grandfather agrees, it would not inconvenience him to do the portrait at the Park. My brother is far too impatient to come here every day.”

Nia suspected it was more likely Lord Vincent didn’t think Stoneleigh Manor a fit place for a duke to spend hours of his time. He was right about that and she appreciated his tact in not actually saying so.

“Yes, I’m sure he would be agreeable, provided you have a place with plenty of natural light where he could do his work,” she replied. “I can drive him over each day and stay with him. He needs me to mix his paints, you see. Besides, he has become accustomed to either Sophia or me being with him all the time and he gets confused if he is alone for too long.”

“Indeed.” Lord Vincent shared a smile between them. “Besides, we don’t want Drake or Miss Tilling to interfere. I have not absolutely absolved either of them of blame for the theft of the drawings of you, Miss Ash.”

“You said you knew of a way to retrieve them,” Nia reminded him anxiously.

“We shall ensure word gets about that the preview is for collectors with bottomless pockets. The drawings are, if I understand you correctly, some of the most inspired work your grandfather has ever done.” Lord Vincent glanced at Sophia as he spoke and sent her a rakish grin. “Given the subject matter, I can well understand his inspiration.”

“Why, thank you, Lord Vincent,” Sophia replied, a wicked light illuminating her eyes.

“We must assume the thief will be amongst those invited, and I cannot imagine he would let the opportunity pass him by to try and attract buyers.”

“That would be rather daring,” Sean said hotly. “With all of us in the room.”

“Indeed, but I think our thief would take the chance, especially if we make it known your grandfather plans to retire after this last exhibition and return to Ireland.”

“He will want to have buyers lined up, ready to bid against one another, the moment Patrick leaves the country,” Frankie said musingly. “I dare say you are right, Lord Vincent. He sounds like an arrogant and rather desperate fellow who thinks he can get away with absolutely anything.”