The Portrait (17 page)

"I see that I am no longer required here," he said with an air
of superiority. "I remained merely to ensure that Jennifer would
be well received by your sister. I've matters to attend to in
Buxton. However, be assured, I do not relinquish my claim. I
have every intention of pursuing my cause, and we will see the
outcome of this little dispute when I return to London"

"Then we will not keep you longer from your home," replied
the earl. "I can assure you, there's no further need for your concern. Be assured that she is quite well received and no longer
requires your company. Indeed, the hour is not so far advanced that you need delay your departure. I believe you may
attain a good thirty miles before you are required to put up for
the night."

Rutledge colored profusely. He was not used to being the
recipient of such forthright animosity, but he was no fool. "I
believe, as you suggest, I will make my departure immediately. I've no wish to be de trop." He made a move toward the
door but halted, briefly turning to face his companion. Making a short bow, he said tersely, "I would be obliged if you
would thank our hostess for her hospitality and inform her of
my departure."

"I can assure you, we are devastated by your loss," mocked
the earl, watching his retreat with distinct satisfaction.

The candles burned low in their sconces, but still sleep
would not come. Finally Jennifer rose from her bed and,
wrapping her silk robe about her, went to sit in the chair by
the hearth.

She had been relieved to hear of Phillip's departure but saw
it as only prolonging the situation, for she knew he would return to attempt to coerce her into accepting his proposal. She had no doubt that his affection for her was genuine, but, meeting him again after an absence of more than three years, she
realized that her memories of him had been somewhat distorted. She'd remembered him as an affable friend, liking not
the arrogant being he'd now become, and she realized that his
manner contrasted most unfavorably to that of the earl.

Even now, as she sat alone in her chamber, she wasn't prepared to admit the turmoil into which Sinclair's arrival at
Ravensby had pitched her emotions, indeed had done since
his return from war. She'd been so certain of her decision to
end the betrothal before his arrival, but now ...

"I hate you, Edward Thurston," she confided to the dying
embers in the hearth before retreating to her bed once more.

No sooner had her head rested on the pillow than she heard
a cry from one of the adjoining bedchambers, quickly followed by yet another, and immediately she was on her feet,
drawing on her wrap, for she'd recognized that voice.

Running into the corridor, she was met by Perry holding
aloft a candle as he, too, ran to the earl's door, and, thrusting it
wide, they entered. Sinclair lay in the vast bed, mumbling incoherently in his sleep, appearing much agitated. He wore no
nightshirt, and they saw that his brow and powerful chest were
soaked in sweat.

"Close the door," commanded Perry quietly, placing the
candle on the bedside table. "Ned sometimes has these dreams.
They are less frequent now than at the beginning but no less
violent."

The candle cast flickering shadows over Sinclair's face,
revealing that his eyes were wide, but he obviously still slept.
Suddenly his words became audible, as, raising himself up, he
issued battlefield commands in an urgent voice.

"What can we do?" cried Jenny, as Perry attempted to press
his brother back onto the pillows. Sinclair only became more
agitated in the attempt, issuing oaths and gripping Perry's arm
in a viselike hold. "Shall I call Flora?" she asked, making for
the door.

"Leave Flora be," replied a much-concerned Perry. "She only goes into a flap and is no use in these situations. We must
ride it out. He would become confused and disorientated
should we attempt to wake him."

Quickly looking about the room, Jennifer spied the ewer left
on the dresser for the earl's refreshment and, taking up one of
the fine linen towels, soaked it in the cool water. Returning to
the bed, she attempted to place it on his fevered brow, but again
he became more violent and pushed her away.

"Go back to bed," said Perry. "I will sit with him. We can
do nothing more."

"I believe if we could just cool him, he would fare much better," stated Jenny. "Here, take the cloth and sponge his chest"

Perry did as he was bid, talking to his brother all the while,
attempting to soothe him while Jenny took his hand in a reassuring clasp, not so much as flinching when his fingers tightened unbearably on hers.

Eventually he fell back onto the pillows, his ranting reduced
to an agitated mumbling. Among the confusion of words, Jennifer frequently distinguished the word portrait.

"What is this portrait he appears so concerned about?" she
asked Perry when she was able. "It seems uppermost in his
mind."

"He carries a miniature with him, though I've never seen it.
Indeed, he doesn't know I'm aware of its existence, but I
came across him examining it in his bedchamber one evening,
and he quickly hid it."

"Does he have it with him now? Do you think it would calm
him?"

Perry searched the drawers and closet, but no portrait could
be found.

Suddenly Jenny became aware that the mumbling had ceased
and that the earl's eyes had taken on a look of recognition.

"Jen?" he whispered, as if scarcely believing her presence.
"Is that you, Jen?" Releasing his hand from her clasp, he raised
himself once more to a sitting position and rubbed his fingers
across his forehead in a bemused way. "I've been dreaming
again," he offered in explanation. "Have I woken you? Is that Perry skulking in the shadows? Have I woken the whole
house?"

"No, only Perry and me," assured Jenny, pushing him once
more back against the pillows.

"You must think me feeble-brained." He grimaced.

"Certainly not, though we were greatly concerned for you"

"Then you need not be," he continued. "I suffer from night
terrors, nothing more. They're not as violent as they once
were and are far less frequent, but I don't know when to expect them or what activates them"

"You appeared troubled about a portrait," said Jenny, taking
up the cloth, at last being able to bathe his brow. "Tell us
where it can be found, and we will bring it to you. Perry was
looking for it when you awoke...."

"No!" he almost shouted, and she feared he was becoming
agitated again. "There is no portrait. Let it be"

Perry came to stand at the foot of the bed. "Can I get you
anything, Ned? A brandy perhaps?"

"Thank you. I would welcome a glass of brandy," said Sinclair wearily.

As Perry left the room, Jennifer rose to leave, but the earl
caught her hand. "Will you not stay for a moment, Jen?" he
asked. "Sit with me a little." She resumed her seat at the side
of the bed.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked quietly. "For you must know
that I'm not aware of what I say when the terror overtakes me,
and I would not wish to alarm or offend you"

"You have certainly not offended me in any way, but I was
concerned for you. The battles have left you with very vivid
recollections, and the horrors of war are firmly imprinted on
your memory. Who should blame you for your terrors?"

He smiled with an effort and took her hand in a warm clasp,
his eyelids suddenly appearing heavy. "You are very understanding, my dear," he mumbled as he drifted into sleep.

Watching his features soften in repose, Jenny, for the first
time, allowed her gaze to study the paling scars that criss crossed his side, and tears blurred her vision. Tentatively she
traced their course with one gentle finger. "Oh, how they have
hurt you, my love," she breathed, resisting the urge to press
her lips to the hard ridges where the flesh had healed. Before
she could explore her emotions further, Perry entered with the
glass of brandy, and she raised a finger to her lips and indicated that they should leave.

It was not until she herself had retired to bed that the thought
struck her that the earl had shown no discomfiture at her seeing his scarring as he had done at The Sow's Ear, proving he
felt more at ease with her. The thought pleased her enormously. However, when she thought of it, she admitted she
was curious to know of the portrait and why it was so important to him.

66 Why didn't you wake me?" complained Flora over
breakfast the following morning.

"There was no need. Jenny was with me," replied Perry, attacking the sirloin placed before him with some vigor.

"The poor girl must have wondered what was happening.
No wonder she wishes to breakfast in her apartment this
morning."

"Jenny was more than equal to the task," scoffed Perry.
"She doesn't indulge in histrionics,"

"Am I to take it, then, that you are inferring that I do?"
asked Flora waspishly. "For I tell you ..

"I only state the truth." Perry grinned.

"Then 'tis excessively unkind of you to infer that I resort to
dramatics. I would have been equally as able to attend to dear
Edward"

"Oh, take a damper, Flo," Perry teased, scarcely pausing in
the consumption of his meal.

Flora turned an indignant shade of pink. "Don't call me
that. You know I can't abide it, you wretched boy."

"Bickering again, Perry?" remonstrated the earl, entering
the room and coming to sit at the table. "Must you always find
it necessary to torment our hostess, you ungrateful cub, especially when she has been gracious enough to take us all under
her wing and offer her hospitality? There are few who would
be so willing to open their doors to all and sundry."

"But then, my dear Ned, you are not all and sundry," replied
a much mollified Flora. "My door is ever open to you,"

"But will not be to this young wretch" The earl chuckled.
"Especially if he doesn't mind his manners. Apologize to
your sister, you ungrateful pup."

An unrepentant Perry grudgingly issued a mumbled apology but was saved from further recriminations by the appearance of his friend at the door. Freddie Lynton, who'd
breakfasted some while earlier, appeared in the doorway and
with beckoning hand urged his friend to join him in the search
for sport.

Alone in her apartment, Jenny sat pensively over her meal.
Her curiosity had been whetted, and she desired nothing more
than to know of this portrait that seemed so imperative to the
earl. Had it been her imagination, or did he appear to become
defensive when it was mentioned the previous night? Yet
how could she broach the subject to him without incurring his
wrath?

She'd heard him leave his apartment a short while earlier,
and the thought came to her that she could go to his room
while he was at his morning meal. Perhaps she might succeed
where Perry had failed in locating it, but she pushed the
thought away as soon as it had arisen. She would not serve him
in such a cavalier manner. However, curiosity was a strange
thing, raising all manner of possibilities in the mind, and she
knew she would not be easy until she knew whose portrait it
was that he so fiercely protected.

All of a sudden she remembered their meeting as he'd left
the frame-maker's shop and she'd taken him up into her
phaeton. When she thought back to that day, she was convinced that it was no portrait of his grandsire that had required reframing. However, the alternative proved too painful to contemplate. The thought that it was the face of a paramour that
he studied refused to be dismissed, and she pushed away her
cup so forcefully that its contents spilled upon the cloth.

Dabbing at the stain with her napkin, she felt an inexplicable
vexation start to rise, and, leaving the table, she went to the
window.

There she sat with her chin resting in her hand, watching
the daily workings of the stable yard below, until a movement
in the farthest corner caught her eye and she watched with
some fascination as the earl mounted a large blood-chestnut.
It was not the effortless grace with which he sat the spirited
mount that drew her attention but his ability to appear as one
with the horse, and for a moment she watched him with an irresistible fascination as he calmed the lively animal and encouraged it to walk more steadily from the yard. As the maid
arrived, on a thought, she quickly rose from her seat and asked
her to lay out her riding habit.

Once settled in the saddle of a pretty gray mare, Jenny
inquired of the earl's direction.

"I believe my lord to have ridden over to The Folly," informed the groom who'd assisted her to mount. "Do you require me to accompany you on your ride, my lady?"

"There's no need. I am to join with his lordship," she
replied, and, turning her mare, she, too, headed out of the yard.

Ravensby's grounds were extensive, but she knew the path
that would take her to The Folly, and she urged the mare to a
canter, soon leaving the formal gardens behind.