Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke (21 page)

“I shall call upon you in the next few days, Portia,” Lady St. John said, a secretive smile flirting with her lips as she transferred her attention to Vince’s sister. “When I have obtained the information Annalise asked me for regarding school masters. I anticipate receiving a letter from my friend in London on the subject any day now, then we shall have a better idea how to proceed.”

“I shall pass on anything of use to Annalise when I visit her next week.” Portia canted her head. “What does Mr. Sean Trafford do with himself all day, Frankie?”

Ah, Vince thought, so that’s the way the wind blows. He had been so taken up with Nia that he had not paid much attention to Portia and her obvious interest in Trafford.

“He manages his grandfather’s affairs and has two small sons to occupy his time,” Lady St. John replied. “I shall tell you more on my next visit, if you are interested.”

“Evidently she is,” Zach said, eyeing Portia somewhat severely.

“The question arose out of idle curiosity,” Portia protested, blushing fiercely when the rest of her brothers joined Zach and concentrated suspicious glares upon her. “I am starting to understand why Annalise complained so vociferously about the four of you watching her every move.”

“Become accustomed to it,” Zach warned. “There are fortune hunters everywhere.”

“And none of them will like me for myself, I suppose, because I am not as beautiful as Annalise.”

“That is not what I meant,” Zach replied, remaining implacably calm in the face of their sister’s rare fit of pique. “And well you know it. Don’t test me, Portia. You know I only have your best interests at heart.”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Portia glanced down at her folded hands and sighed. “But credit me with a little intelligence. I am not the dim wit you appear to take me for.”

“I must not leave my horses standing around,” Lady St. John said, clearly embarrassed by the exchange. “I will bid you all
au revoir.”

Vince was again surprised when Zach chose to escort their guest to the door himself, and was absent from the drawing room for some considerable time. When he returned to it, their mother, sister and Crista had all retired.

“Do you think Trafford is still capable of portrait work?” Zach asked Vince as he helped himself to brandy. “His lucidity appears to be transitory. I should hate to sit around for all that time and have nothing to show for it.”

Vince shrugged. “Does an artist need to have his wits about him to exploit his talent?”

“Being half-mad is acceptable in artistic types,” Amos said flippantly. “Some might say it is necessary, and enhances their brilliance.”

“You can hardly expect our brother to give an honest opinion about Trafford’s abilities,” Nate said, grinning. “If he were to express doubts and you called a halt to the commission, Zach, he would be deprived of the beguiling Miss Trafford’s society.”

Vince treated his youngest brother to a withering glare. “We shall know after a couple of days, I expect.”

The conversation between the brothers became more general after that but Vince took little part in it. Nate’s comment about his attachment to Nia had struck a chord. If he had noticed, then his mother most certainly also had. Vince had not thought he was being quite so obvious, which was ridiculous since he had devoted all of his attention to Nia the entire evening. Even though the rest of his family did not know about
the kiss
, he had obviously made his partiality apparent. It was a timely reminder not do to give the lady herself the wrong impression. He enjoyed her lively company as much as he admired her determination to protect her grandfather; but there could be nothing more to their association than that.

He suspected she was sincere in her desire to remain single, return to Ireland after her grandfather’s exhibition, and care for him in his declining years. That was all to the good since the only honourable way to pursue Nia was with marriage as his goal. Nia’s enthusiastic response to his kiss told Vince that not pursuing her would be an almost impossible resolve to adhere to, since he had never desired a female more. Whether Nia realised it or not, she was equally drawn to him and it would not be difficult to persuade such a sensuous creature to do more than merely kiss him.

And yet he could not go that far. His gentlemanly instincts waged an increasingly desperate battle with his baser side. It was a battle he would probably lose, especially when Nia looked at him with such burning and unguarded curiosity reflected in her eyes. She might live beneath the same roof as a courtesan, but there the similarity between their backgrounds ended. Vince had been looking forward to her visits to the Park with her grandfather. Now he accepted that if he found himself alone with her, he might not be able to control himself. Ye gods, the chit had a lot to answer for!

“You’re quiet, Vince,” Nate said, swirling brandy around in his glass. “Can’t imagine what occupies that vacant brain of yours.”

Vince chastised his irrepressible brother with sardonic look. “Nothing could if, as you suggest, it is vacant,” he replied indolently. “Besides, you are perfectly capable of talking enough for all four of us.”

Amos laughed. “Can’t deny that one, Nate.”

Nate laughed too. “Just because I am an astute student of human nature and have much to say about my observations, that does not make me a rattletrap.”

“We noticed you observing Miss Ash a little too assiduously,” Zach said.

“I say, what a woman! No offence to Trafford, but she’s wasted on him.”

“Nate, she’s old enough to be your mother,” Vince reminded him.

“Hardly that.” Nate’s smile was irrepressible. “Besides older women have the advantage of experience on their side.”

“Leave her alone,” Zach said mildly. “We are trying to help Trafford, not create more problems for him.”

“Which is why I don’t like Portia making moon eyes at Sean Trafford,” Amos added, scowling. “I was watching them at dinner and I have never seen her half so animated before.”

“Portia compares herself to Annalise and finds herself wanting,” Vince said. “We all know she didn’t enjoy her first season, even though she received her share of attention.”

“But no offers, in spite of her substantial dowry,” Nate added. “Whereas I lost count of the number of coves who sought your permission to address Annalise, Zach. No wonder she doesn’t bother to make the best of herself.”

“Portia is attractive in a different way to Annalise,” Vince said pensively. “She prefers being at home to the whirlwind of a London season.”

“So do all the rest of us,” Amos pointed out.

“Yes, but we are not on the marriage mart, thank God,” Nate said, shuddering. “Whereas young ladies are expected to marry as soon as they come out, and are looked down upon if they do not. Besides, most females enjoy all the rigmarole.”

“Quite, but Portia is too sensible to conform to society’s expectations, which is perhaps why no offers for her hand were forthcoming. I noticed several men take an interest in her but she discouraged them so firmly that they were probably scared to approach you, Zach,” Vince said with a wry smile.

Amos curled his upper lip disdainfully. “If they are that weak, they would be no good for Portia. Our sister deserves a man with backbone.”

“Quite so. And now she has found a charismatic one here in the country who showed what she thinks is a genuine interest in her, it has completely turned her head.” Zach frowned. “But it simply won’t serve. Trafford will return to Ireland with his grandfather and sons. I don’t see Portia taking on another woman’s children
and
his demented father. I want better for her than that.”

“I want to protect our sister’s interests every bit as much as the rest of you,” Vince said pensively. “But I think we are reading too much into one evening during which she enjoyed a gentleman’s society because he had the good manners to make himself agreeable to her. She ought to be able to do that without us reading too much into it.”

“She was completely taken with him,” Zach replied. “Which you would have noticed for yourself, were you not so busy entertaining Miss Trafford.”

“You are worrying about nothing. She will have no occasion to see him again for some time. Sean Trafford will not accompany his father here at the Park while he paints your portrait, Zach,” Vince assured his brother, wondering why he felt the need to defend any man who showed too much interest in his sister. Normally his suspicions would be aroused, along with those of the rest of his brothers. But he had convinced himself Sean Trafford was no fortune hunter; merely a charming Irish rogue who enjoyed the society of women. Portia deserved to have some fun. “And Annalise expects Portia to join her in Southampton next week. By the time she returns, hopefully the portrait will be almost complete, and the Traffords will have the exhibition planned, after which they will return directly to Ireland. There, does that set your mind at rest?”

“I shall not spare the matter another moment’s concern,” Zach replied drolly.

“Do you really think the forger will show himself when the portrait is unveiled?” Amos asked after a short pause in the conversation. “He must know Trafford’s family are aware of his activities. It would be foolhardy to take the risk.”

“Yes, but someone arrogant enough to forge paintings by a living artist is unlikely to be able to resist viewing that artist’s latest efforts,” Nate said in a speculative tone. “He will assume he is above suspicion and will be interested in Trafford’s landscapes, probably in the expectation that they will be easier to forge than portraits.”

“I agree with you, for once,” Vince said, rotating his neck to dislodge the tension that had settled in his shoulders. “I think I might go up to town for a few days.”

“And pass up on the opportunity to enjoy Miss Trafford’s society while she is here at the Park?” Nate’s eyebrows shot up. “I believe our brother thinks he might be in danger, Zach.”

That was precisely what Vince did think, but his only response was a withering glare in Nate’s direction. The plain fact of the matter was that if he spent too much time with Nia, he would not be able to help encouraging her expectations; if expectations she had. Since he had shown her too much attention already, he could only suppose that she did, and couldn’t blame her for that. Seducing a lady of Nia’s class would be unthinkable, but it was all he seemed able to think about. Nothing could come of his growing obsession with her. An obsession that he had convinced himself would wither if he distanced himself from her.

“Why the sudden desire to go to town?” Zach asked. “There will be no one there worth knowing at this time of year.”

“I have a mind to set the cat amongst the pigeons,” Vince replied with a rakish grin.

“In what respect?” Zach and Amos asked together.

“I shall make myself known to Trafford’s agent, Belling, and a few other leading figures in the art world. Let them know that Trafford is painting your portrait, Zach, and see what interest that produces.”

“Thinking word will get back to the forger?” Nate suggested.

“Precisely so. I shall also mention the theft of the sketches of Sophia Ash.”

“Sophia Ash in her prime,
au natural
.” Nate sighed and dramatically clutched at his heart with both hands. “I would pay good money to see those. You have get them back, Vince, you absolutely have to.”

“It was just a few months ago when our baby brother was sighing over Martha at the Crown and Anchor.”

“Martha is an angel of mercy,” Nate answered, chuckling. “I believe she showed the three of you a range of celestial pleasures before she got round to me. The time has come to move on. I would not be so selfish as to occupy all of her attentions.”

“Believe me, little brother,” Zach said, grinning. “Martha does not believe in exclusivity.”

Vince laughed. “I shall endeavour to oblige with regard to Sophia’s sketches but I don’t suppose they are being touted on the open market.”

“There is a black market for such merchandise, presumably,” Amos remarked.

“I am hoping Belling will be able to cast some light on that angle. And while I’m at it, I shall also see if I can engineer a meeting with Smythe at Whites.”

Amos looked momentarily confused. “Smythe being the person who purchased one of the forgeries, if memory serves.”

“Yes. He probably knows more about the forger’s identity than he realises. Not that I shall indicate any interest in that particular subject. I shall simply tell him about Trafford’s activities here, he is bound to mention that he owns a Trafford original, and I will steer the conversation in the direction I wish for it to take.”

“And you will invite him personally to the unveiling of my portrait,” Zack surmised.

“Naturally.”

“Don’t worry about Miss Trafford while you are gone,” Nate said as the brothers finished their drinks and headed for the stairs together. “I shall take the very best care of her for you.”

Vince dealt Nate a chilling glare that set all his brothers chuckling as they climbed the stairs.

***

“We have to stop!” Annie clutched the forger’s lapels. “They know something is wrong. I am perfectly sure of it.”

The forger disentangled her grubby fingers from his exquisite tailoring. “Calm yourself, my dear, and tell me why you have summoned me here.”

“Mr. Trafford is going to paint the Duke of Winchester’s portrait. Everyone in the house is talking about it.”

Damnation, that was all he needed. “Then you were right to call me.”

“This will make a difference to you, won’t it?”

“I had not anticipated he would do more portraits, it is true.” He moved away from her. “Just give me a moment to think.”

“I hear tell they are going to hold a private viewing at the duke’s home in six weeks’ time, along with Mr. Trafford’s landscapes. Lots of people of consequence will be invited.”

“Is that a fact?”

The forger scratched his neck as he contemplated this disturbing development. If the new owners of the portraits he had passed off as Trafford originals happened to be there, it could be disastrous. Panic momentarily overcame rational thought. Forcing himself to calm down, the forger assessed the implications from his perspective. Even if
his
customers did happen to be there, they would not have their paintings with them. Paintings changed hands all the time, through dealers and private transactions. If they mentioned their new acquisitions, no one would think anything about it. Trafford, in his prime, had produced a prodigious number of portraits. He couldn’t possibly remember them all; especially in his current deluded state.