‘‘We do not.’’ The last thing Corinna wanted was her meddlesome sister interfering. ‘‘He’s not from our world, Juliana. Griffin would never agree.’’
‘‘Griffin has nothing against the man. In fact, he said he admires him. I asked him what he thought of Mr. Delaney earlier this evening, before he left and came back with Rachael.’’
Rachael and Griffin were dancing together even now. Unsurprisingly, Corinna’s sister was looking rather smug about how
that
relationship was progressing. And Corinna wasn’t at all surprised to hear Juliana had questioned Griffin about Sean, either. ‘‘Mr. Delaney is color-blind. He cannot even appreciate my paintings.’’
‘‘There’s something between the two of you,’’ Juliana insisted.
‘‘A mutual desire to see Lord Lincolnshire happily through his last days, that’s all.’’
Her sister shrugged. ‘‘If you say so,’’ she said agreeably, not sounding like she really agreed at all.
‘‘Holy Hannah,’’ Corinna muttered. ‘‘Go dance with your husband, will you? And don’t forget to ask him to have a look at Lord Lincolnshire.’’
Chapter Twenty-four
Sean had decided that the day he’d brought Lincolnshire to Hamilton’s studio hadn’t been the longest one of his life, after all.
This damn ball felt at least a week longer.
Escorting Deirdre off the dance floor, he noticed Corinna standing by the open French doors. She caught his eye, motioning her head toward the Billingsgates’ garden before slipping outside.
Sean brought Deirdre in the same direction, walking her back to Lincolnshire. ‘‘Are you enjoying the fresh air, Uncle?’’
‘‘Very much. And . . . I enjoyed . . . seeing you dance.’’
‘‘We enjoyed the dance, too.’’ For the dear gent’s benefit, Sean smiled at his sister and kissed her on the cheek. ‘‘I’m feeling a wee bit overheated after that, though, I’m afraid. Would you mind keeping my wife company while I step outdoors for a moment?’’
‘‘Not at all,’’ Lincolnshire said, reaching for Deirdre’s hand.
Leaving the two of them, Sean entered the garden, knowing he probably shouldn’t, and immediately spotted Corinna on a path lit with twinkling lanterns. Beckoning for him to follow, she disappeared.
He briefly thought of turning back, but having come this far, he didn’t feel it fair to leave her waiting. Following the sound of her light, running footsteps, he found her quite a distance down the path and off to the side, in the darkness of a small stand of trees. Though the area was shadowed, he could see the outline of her lovely form, not at all hidden by her slim, high-waisted dress. He walked closer, telling himself he shouldn’t touch her, knowing he would.
Her scent wafted to him through the starlit night, flowery and sweet, underlaid with that astringent hint that reminded him she was an artist, a talented woman who went her own way. But she was aristocratic, too. Beneath her facade of originality and forwardness, she was sheltered and unspoiled, a woman who had never wanted for anything. Like a bright, newly minted coin, nothing had tarnished her. She was shiny and pretty, and that perfection drew him. Tempted him toward a world where he didn’t belong.
He knew that, and he’d tried to stay away the past few days because of it. He’d kissed her three times already—four if he counted the occasion he hadn’t resisted pressing his lips to the nape of her neck—and he knew that was three or four times too many.
He knew also that she hadn’t the same reservations. She was impulsive and eager and ardent. He drew close, and when she raised her fingers to brush along his jaw he wasn’t the least bit surprised. A moment later they were in each other’s arms, their lips locked together.
It was frightening, this mad passion. He felt swamped. But the fear didn’t stop him from taking what he wanted, from feasting on her mouth and running his hands down her back. From tasting her and finding that taste intoxicating. From pressing her against his body and reveling in the feel of her and enjoying her small sounds of delight.
When he drew back, they were both breathless. She moved closer again, close enough to lay her head against his chest. ‘‘I missed you the past three days,’’ she said softly.
‘‘ ’Tis sorry I am for that,’’ he said, because he
was
sorry, for disappointing her but also that he’d let things get to the point where she would be disappointed. And that he wasn’t doing anything to stop that progression. ‘‘I’ve had things I’ve had to do.’’
‘‘What things?’’ She pulled away a little and gazed up at him, her blue eyes looking black in the darkness. ‘‘What do you do, Sean, exactly?’’
‘‘Unfortunately, very little for myself since this all began. Now Lincolnshire has asked me to find new positions for all of his servants. Well, actually he asked me to
keep
all his servants after he passed, but I told him I’d find positions for them instead. So that’s what I’ve been doing. Finding placements for them.’’ He smiled down at her, and because he couldn’t help himself, he gave her another kiss. A short, gentle one this time. ‘‘Thank you for making that possible.’’
‘‘It sounds like a horrible imposition. You’ll be glad when this is all over, won’t you?’’
‘‘Very glad.’’ Although he wondered if he would ever see her again. How he possibly could. And whether he’d find himself content again if he couldn’t. ‘‘I’ll miss seeing you, though, when it’s over.’’
‘‘I think we’ll see each other again. My brother wants to talk to you. He wants to ask your advice about property management.’’
‘‘Does he now?’’
‘‘He likes you. He’s impressed with your business sense.’’
‘‘I didn’t think marquesses were interested in business.’’
‘‘They’re not, mostly, but Griffin’s a little different. He never wanted to be the marquess. He likes being in the center of things. He was in the cavalry, you know, before our older brother died. An officer. He led campaigns in the Peninsular War. Although he complains of too many responsibilities, I think in his heart he feels a little useless now. He’d like to find something of his own, something more challenging, more involving.’’
‘‘Managing property can be very involving.’’ Her brother sounded like a man he might admire. And if the man admired him as well, then . . .
There was no sense thinking in that direction. But he held Corinna a wee bit closer and pressed another kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the warm, floral scent of her hair. ‘‘We’d best get back,’’ he said regretfully, taking her hand and easing them both out of the trees. ‘‘Or people will come looking for us.’’
‘‘That wouldn’t be good,’’ she agreed, moving with him. ‘‘Juliana would come looking for us first, and then who knows what would happen.’’ While he was wondering what
could
happen, they turned onto the path. ‘‘I liked what you said in there,’’ she said. ‘‘In the picture gallery.’’
‘‘In the picture gallery. Saints preserve us. I don’t think I said anything that wasn’t a disaster.’’
‘‘But you did. You said that an artist’s work should stand on its own, that his identity—or hers, I’m hoping everyone who was listening would agree—should not influence the viewer’s opinion of any specific picture.’’ Her hand warm in his larger one, she looked over and up at him and smiled. ‘‘Wherever did you come up with that?’’
‘‘Hamilton,’’ he admitted with no small measure of disgust. ‘‘Hamilton said something very like that, and I remembered it. In my desperation to sound artistic, it just came flying out of my mouth.’’
‘‘I know you despise him, and for good reason, but I’m so glad to hear he thinks that way. It makes it so much more likely that he’ll vote for my painting.’’
Sean didn’t think so. She didn’t know the rest of what Hamilton had said—the part about females never painting anything good. But he wasn’t going to tell her that, not now. He wasn’t going to ruin the last of these few stolen moments together.
‘‘He should be back by now,’’ he told her instead, pulling his hand from hers as the house came into sight. Faint snatches of music floated to them from the open French doors. ‘‘He said he’d be gone two weeks, and it was two weeks on Thursday. But instead of coming home to deal with everything, he sent a letter.’’
She clasped her hands before her, like maybe she was missing holding his. He hoped so. But he knew he shouldn’t. ‘‘That’s just as well,’’ she said. ‘‘If he came home now, he might ruin his uncle’s last days. What did the letter say?’’
‘‘He’s painting the Lady of the Waterfall, and he doesn’t want to leave. But I’m suspecting the lady he doesn’t want to leave is the one in his bed.’’ The rotter. ‘‘He told me not to worry; he’ll be home well before the Summer Exhibition vote.’’
‘‘I don’t expect you were worrying,’’ Corinna said. ‘‘You obviously cannot do that for him. Just like you cannot come to Lady Avonleigh’s reception next week in his place. Ten days,’’ she added with a sigh as they approached the open French doors, instinctively moving farther apart so it wouldn’t appear they’d done anything but talk. ‘‘In ten days my painting will be turned in and Hamilton will come home.’’
‘‘He should return before that. He said he’d be here well before the vote.’’
‘‘Then in less than ten days, you’ll be free.’’
Sean wouldn’t be free until Lincolnshire passed on, unless Hamilton stirred everything up.
But he didn’t want to say that.
Much as he wanted his life back, much as he knew he and Corinna were growing too close, ten days in her company didn’t seem nearly long enough.
Chapter Twenty-five
‘‘How does Lord Lincolnshire fare today?’’ Sean asked as he stepped into the man’s house late Monday afternoon.
Quincy sighed, a maudlin sound that spoke volumes. ‘‘Perhaps you should ask his new physician.’’
‘‘New physician?’’
‘‘He’s with him now. Second doctor to visit today.’’
Alarmed, Sean headed for the crystal staircase. Glimpsing Corinna inside the salon as he passed, he was tempted to stop. But her back was to him, and she looked absorbed, humming tunelessly while dabbing vigorously at her painting.
And Lincolnshire took precedence now, regardless.
Sean took the steps two at a time, wincing at the sound of Lincolnshire’s cough. Apparently hearing her brother’s footsteps, Deirdre hurried out into the corridor. ‘‘You’re back early today,’’ she whispered.
‘‘He wasn’t doing well this morning.’’
‘‘That’s why I decided to stay home with him. He was sitting for Lady Corinna when he started coughing blood. Just a wee bit, but . . .’’
‘‘A wee bit is too much.’’
She nodded. ‘‘Lady Corinna sent him upstairs. Nurse Skeffington summoned his doctor, and then Lord Stafford arrived, too. Dr. Dalton was livid.’’ Her eyes were wide. ‘‘He packed up his leeches and left.’’
‘‘His leeches?’’ Sean pulled a face before registering the rest of Deirdre’s words. ‘‘Lord Stafford? Corinna’s brother-in-law?’’
She nodded again. ‘‘Lady Corinna sent him a note. He’s in with Lord Lincolnshire now.’’ She motioned to the door, and they headed toward it.
‘‘My recommendation is that the leeches and bleeding and blistering be stopped,’’ Lord Stafford was telling the earl as they walked in. ‘‘Your choice, of course, but I don’t believe those treatments will accomplish anything, unless you’re aiming to hasten the end.’’
Lincolnshire shook his head wildly and coughed again.
‘‘There now.’’ Lifting a cup off the earl’s bedside table, Lord Stafford leaned closer and held it to his lips. ‘‘Have a little sip for me, will you? It will soothe your throat, and the warmth will ease your lungs.’’ He straightened and looked to Sean. ‘‘Good evening, Mr. Hamilton.’’
Considering the man knew he wasn’t Hamilton, he’d said that smoothly, Sean thought. ‘‘Thank you for attending him. I thought you ran a smallpox facility.’’
‘‘I spend most days vaccinating, yes. But I also see a few very special patients.’’ He aimed a gentle smile at Lord Lincolnshire. ‘‘Another sip for me, as a favor?’’
The earl took a very tiny one.
‘‘He doesn’t have but a wee appetite,’’ Deirdre said.
‘‘He’s doubtless nauseous,’’ Stafford explained. ‘‘Although we cannot see it, of course, his internal organs will be swelling along with those parts we can see. He’ll not be wanting to eat much, but you should encourage him to take what he can. Especially the tea.’’
‘‘We will,’’ Sean said. ‘‘And we shouldn’t allow Dr. Dalton to apply more leeches, then, yes?’’
‘‘It’s my belief such treatments will only make Lord Lincolnshire more uncomfortable. Better to let things progress naturally, as I see it. But I don’t expect Dr. Dalton will be returning in any case.’’ Stafford set an affectionate hand on the earl’s shoulder. ‘‘I’ll be attending Lord Lincolnshire now.’’
Lincolnshire gave him a weak smile. ‘‘Thank you,’’ he whispered, closing his eyes.
‘‘Think nothing of it. I’d do anything for you—just like everyone else who’s had the good fortune to be part of your life.’’
Not Hamilton, Sean thought darkly, watching the earl’s breathing even out. His head lolled against the pillows. No matter his cheerful front, Lincolnshire was weakening. He wouldn’t last much longer. Though Sean regretted spending the day out of the house, he’d needed to talk to his people, figure out where more of Lincolnshire’s servants could be placed. He wanted to assure the earl’s peace of mind before he passed.