The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (69 page)

Then his painting had
arrived and she’d wondered if he was feeling the same.

She put her arms around
him and hugged him tight. Felt his hand in her hair softly kneading
her scalp.

“And it’s how I
want to think of you forty years from now and until the end of our
lives.” Tenderly, Reed tipped her chin up to look into her eyes.
“Will you be mine, sweet Tally, lock, stock and barrel?”

Damn!
What in blazes was he thinking?
That was absolutely the
wrong thing to say! On the drive back from rescuing Tally, she’d
slept in his arms the entire way, while Foster had made the most of
his opportunity to talk to Reed about her. He hadn’t been subtle;
nor had Reed, for that matter. He’d guzzled every bit of it up like
a thirsty sailor back on dry land. Tally’s faithful guardian warned
him about her determination never to be dependent on any man, let
alone an artist, because of her feast-to-famine childhood. It
explained a lot about her reactions. He knew he had some reassuring
to do.

“What about the
duke’s daughter?” she muttered into his chest. That woman had
caused her a lot of unhappy moments and she still wanted to hear his
explanation.

“You mean Lady
Christabel?”

“Your father told me
you were betrothed to her.” She tried to say it calmly but her
voice trembled. Despite the newspaper notice, she still had a hard
time believing it wasn’t true.

“That day he came to
see you, after my so-called fiancé’s visit?” There was a trace
of anger in his question.

“You know about
that?” She looked up into his face. Was he angry with her? “How?”

“The new butler,
Hislop.”

“I was surprised when
your father came to see me. I didn’t know who Grandma Eva’s bosom
pal was and, when I told her I was going home to Evesham, she
immediately went to see her friend, Daphne... your grandmother!” At
his complacent nod, she frowned, wondering how long he’d known. She
decided some explanations could wait until later. “Your father was
visiting his mother and overheard them talking and immediately came
to see me.”

“I’m so sorry you
had to face that,” he apologized. “I’ve had it out with him. If
it’s any comfort, after meeting you, he went to the Duke and told
him that there would probably be no betrothal. That he was almost
positive I would soon be betrothed to you.”

She lifted her head to
look at him, a question in her eyes.

“You must have
impressed him.” He nuzzled her nose. “I made him see the trouble
he had caused and he now understands he is to stay out of my life and
business permanently.” His hands slid slowly up and down her arms,
in a casual caress from shoulder to elbow. “I knew he must have
said something that made you leave.” He looked for her agreement
and she nodded. “That’s why I sent the article from the Times. I
wanted to reassure you. I hoped it and the painting would be enough
to lure you back to Town.”

“It was! It did! We
packed our bags and here I am. But why didn’t you come to find me
sooner?”

“It’s a long story,
connected to the men spying on us from across the street, which I
will delight in telling you about later.” He dropped a kiss on the
end of her nose. “Right now, we have better things to do.”

She pushed him back a
little from her. “Oh no, we don’t. I need more explanations
first.”

“About what?” There
was an edge of impatience in his voice.

“About your father
believing you need a rich wife to help the family coffers, for
instance. Do you?”

He groaned. “Is that
what he said?”

“Not in those exact
words, but it was what I understood him to mean.”

“Look, my father has
long believed he has the right to run my... all of my brothers and
sisters’ lives, which is why I spent the past six years abroad.”
He sprinkled a flurry of fairy kisses on her forehead, her cheeks,
her lips, as if he couldn’t help himself, then loosened his arms to
see her expression. “I know everyone believes my father exiled me,
but the truth is I exiled myself, I had to get away from his constant
interference in my affairs.”

“But how did you
survive without his support?” She tightened her hug, offering
comfort.

“I didn’t need his
money, I had my own, which maddened him no end. I inherited a sizable
amount from my maternal grandfather and I multiplied it several times
over on the ‘Change’.” He paused for a moment before adding,
“My esteemed sire tried to force me into this same betrothal, when
Lady Christabel was only thirteen! He and the Duke hatched it up
between them. I refused. He threatened to disinherit me.”

His father’s obduracy
still irked him, after all these years. “I told him to go ahead and
do so, packed my bags and left England, refusing to use my title. I
settled in Egypt, where I began an import-export business that has
netted me a tidy sum. I suppose one could consider me to be a
veritable nabob, were I to let it be bruited about. I’m not sorry
about it, even if Society condemns commerce. It ensures that I and my
brothers and sisters will never have to be dependent on our
controlling father for our livelihood.”

“So your father
doesn’t own this house?”

“Good god, no! What
made you think that?”

“The clerk at
Hornings and Crosbie told me that G. Marvin owned both properties. He
said they’d deduced the owner was really the Earl of Merkvale,
after his personal assistant inquired about the properties.”

“I’ll have that
fool’s job!” Reed was outraged. “Anyone who works in a law
office should know better than to gossip about a clients’ business.
And then to get it wrong!” The very thought infuriated him. “I am
G. Marvin. “G” for Gorden and “Marvin” for my uncle who left
me Chemsley House, my official home, and a goodly sum for its upkeep.
My brothers have been staying there while I’ve been away, much to
my father’s dismay.

I bought these two
townhouses nine years ago. I needed a place where I could paint and
where my father would have no say about it.” His eyebrow lifted in
an ironic smile. “You can just imagine what he thinks about one of
his sons painting!”

She grimaced, thinking
that, in his own way, Reed had had to overcome obstacles for his art
just like she had. He also used a pseudonym, she’d learned from
Foster, who’d heard it from Hislop. He was a well-known painter
whose works were hanging in the Royal Academy (
They
may even have viewed some of them together that day!!
) and
other prestigious art galleries. In his case, he used another name to
avoid embarrassing his family. Artists were not the thing for
gentlemen to be known as, in elite families.

He continued, “I had
both houses renovated in the same style, turning the top floors into
studios to obtain the most light possible. I was going to rent the
one next door to other artists who needed somewhere to paint in
London.”

“You said ‘was’,
have you changed your mind?”

“Come, I’ll show
you.” Releasing her from his embrace, he took her hand and led her
upstairs to the studio where she’d worked last month. He ushered
her in ahead of him and stood back to watch her take in the
renovations he’d had done.

“You’ve torn down
the wall between the studios! Between the two houses!” Stunned, she
went over to look at the space between the two studios. “You’ve
made it into a sitting room! It’s beautiful. And so restful
looking.”

“Exactly what I
wanted,” he said from behind her.

From the doorway of the
new room, she took in the large divan, the comfortable-looking
armchairs framing the fireplace, and small side tables to hold
refreshments. “But why?”

“We’re going to
need a bigger house once we have children...” He was startled and a
little worried by her gasp and the tears that sprang to her eyes.
“You don’t want–?”

“No!” At his
stricken look, she realized he’d misunderstood. “I mean, of
course, I want children! Especially...” Look where her impulsive
tongue had taken her! “...yours,” she finished timidly.

A happy smile on his
face, he took her hands in his. “Combining the houses makes sense,
especially since we’re going to be two artists in the family. We’ll
each need our own studio.”

He sounded so sincere,
so loving, more tears welled up and threatened to spill over.

“I thought it would
be nice for us to have somewhere, a quiet place away from everyone
else, where we could spend time together when we aren’t busy.” A
gentle finger wiped away the moisture on her cheek.

“You did this for
me?”

“For us.” He turned
her to face the room and, putting his arms around her from behind,
pulled her back to lean against him. “I picture us spending many
happy hours here together. I wanted you to see that I valued your
work and I’d never think of stopping you, or anyone with your
talent, from pursuing it.” He spun her back into his arms and
leaned his forehead against hers. “For me to be happy, you have to
be happy.”

“Oh, Reed.”
Marveling at all he’d done to prove his love for her, she pulled
him closer, no longer afraid to show it, to feel it, to let it fill
her heart. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”
He assured her.

“I thought we’d
never be together,” she said. “There seemed to be so many
obstacles.”

“But sweetheart,
didn’t you know that all is possible in love?” He said in his
customary, confident way.

“I’ve never much
believed in that romantic twaddle, as Foster calls it.”

“Luckily, I believe
enough for both of us.” He planted another flurry of soft little
pecks all around her face, making her laugh. “I love your smile and
I adore hearing you laugh. We’re going to do a lot of that, my
darling, I promise you.” His voice roughened and this time when his
mouth covered hers, it was insistent, demanding a response, requiring
her full participation, pleading for her surrender.

Her heart overflowing
with joy and love, she gave him what he wanted and more.

Even held close in his
arms, she couldn’t believe this was happening. She was going to be
married!

For so long she’d
thought it impossible, something that others did, but never her.
She’d been afraid, she saw that now. Afraid she’d be taken for
granted and ignored, just like her family had done. Afraid that, if
she married, her spouse would waste her money, neglect her and their
children and allow them to go hungry. And not allow her to paint. She
couldn’t face a lifetime of that.

She’d been a coward!

Sensing she wasn’t
fully with him, Reed slid his lips from her mouth to her ear and
whispered huskily, “I can almost hear the gears in your head
spinning.” Pulling back a little, he asked, “What are you
thinking?”

“It’s all so
overwhelming. I’m having a hard time believing...” her words
tapered off. She’d spotted an easel set in front of the window,
just where hers had been when this has been her studio. Curiosity
wriggled inside her. She’d seen his sketches, but the only painting
of his she’d viewed was the one he sent her. She shot him a quick
glance. She knew better than to look at another artist’s work
without their permission.

“Go ahead.”
Flashing a wicked smile, he opened his arms to free her and, with an
expansive wave, invited her to look.

Would he always be able
to read her like this? Obviously, she was no good at hiding her
thoughts. But her curiosity was such that she felt little
embarrassment when she went to get a glimpse of his work.

Oh
my god!
Now she was embarrassed! A full body flush swept
through her. She tried to say something. Nothing came. She was too
stunned.

“You don’t like
it?” She heard the laughter in his voice.

Then, she recognized
the background. “You saw my painting of you!”

Madre
di Dio!
Tally was certain she couldn’t feel more
mortified if she were walking naked in Hyde Park!

He nodded with a
knowing smile.

“When? How?” She
squirmed with shame. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to look
him in the face again.

“Twice, actually.”
He continued without her having to ask. “The night after I first
came to the studio and you warned me never to come again.”

He laughed aloud at the
exasperated look she threw him, before she turned back to gape at his
painting.

“And again the night
you went to your sisters’ rout.” He came over to stand beside her
in front of the portrait. “It gave me hope that, despite the
prickly distance you kept between us, you did care for me. I saw the
artist’s respect for her subject; her belief in his integrity.”

“You saw that? I
wasn’t aware I had put all that into it. I was still worried you
might be part of the group who was trying to kill me.”

“Seeing it was also
extremely stimulating. To know that when you looked at me, you saw
the man... in all his naked glory!” He couldn’t contain a laugh
at the carmine flush that increased the blush already spread across
her face. “It made me want to make love to you on the spot.”

He put his arms around
her from behind and said, “What does my painting tell you?”

“I don’t…” at
his remonstrating
tsk
,
she focused harder. “I see attraction...

“No joke,” he
quipped.

She smiled but didn’t
let his teasing distract her. “Shyness. And respect too?” She
looked up at him. He hugged her to him and nodded.

“There’s more you
haven’t noticed. There’s humor here in the corner of your mouth.”
Over her shoulder, he pointed to her lips that were turned up in a
little smile. “There is intelligence here in those big, velvet
brown eyes. And, my darling, there is love painted into every inch of
this canvas.”

She gave a soft cry of
joy and turned around into his arms around him, clasping him tightly
around the neck. “I love you... so much.”