The Cursed Canvases, page 3
“Did you get anything?”
“Not really. We were too far away. It’s interesting that she felt me, though.”
“I know. I was thinking the same thing.” Annabel leaned against the wall and began to write in her notebook.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing a description of them for the others to look out for when I’m not here. That pair may not have anything to do with this, but we need to make certain of that.”
Emily nodded. “If they do have something to do with this, they’ll probably be back.”
“Precisely. And one of us will be watching for them if they do.”
The following morning dawned bright and sunny and promised fair all day. Annabel carefully chose a hat with a generous brim to wear and carried a parasol with her for the trip to Hampton Court when Lord Glenrick came for her.
“You come prepared,” he commented as he handed her into his curricle, then swung up beside her, tossing a coin to the boy who held the horses’ heads.
Annabel settled her skirts and raised her parasol. “My mother always says that an ounce of prevention is worth a quart of sunburn lotion. I’m quite convinced she has the right of it.”
He laughed. “May I say that you are one of the cleverest women of my acquaintance?”
“Or the one least willing to spend good money on doubtful sunburn cures.”
“Ah, but frugality is a time-honored Scottish virtue. I am doubly charmed. Are we ready?” he called over her head.
She turned. Lord Quinceton’s curricle was behind them, with Frances happily ensconced in it. For a brief moment, Annabel felt unaccountably cross at the sight. Then she recalled herself—what foolishness! Why should she care who sat in Lord Quinceton’s curricle?—and smiled and waved. “Good morning, Frances!”
“Annabel!” Frances waved back. “Won’t this be diverting?”
“That was the intention,” Lord Quinceton said. He barely nodded to Annabel, a short, cool greeting which she returned in both degree and temperature…and unusually, he barely met her eyes. Hmmph. Emily was imagining things if she truly thought he had any kind of interest in her.
Annabel was delighted to see on their arrival that the palace’s gardens were at their late spring peak. After they had settled the horses in the shade of a tree, she set out on Lord Glenrick’s arm to inspect the formal beds.
“There’s not enough color in London, outside of silk warehouses,” she said, eagerly drinking in the purples and golds of alliums and late tulips.
“Do you prefer the country to the city, then? A Lady Patroness of Almack’s, the very center of fashionable London?”
Annabel smiled. “I shan’t tell them if you won’t.”
“My lips are sealed, madam,” he said, all mock solemnity.
“Good; that means I can shamelessly indulge myself in gardens and flowers without fear. Isn’t there a bluebell wood in the Wilderness here?”
“I believe there is. Shall we find it?”
“Yes, please! The bluebells ought to still be in bloom. At least they would be at home.”
“Oh, the Wilderness!” Frances exclaimed. “Isn’t that where the maze is? We must see that!”
Annabel jumped. She hadn’t realized Frances and Lord Quinceton were so close behind as to be able to overhear their conversation.
“Then the Wilderness it is,” Lord Glenrick declared. He hailed a passing gardener to ask for directions, and they turned their steps in the direction the man indicated.
“Thank you,” Annabel spoke quietly. “If it’s shady enough there, I might even venture to lower my parasol and avoid the danger of putting out one of your eyes.”
“I thank you for that. Being a Cyclops is not on my list of life ambitions.” He made a wry face.
“No, I would imagine not. What is on your list, then?”
He hesitated, then returned her smile. “Oh, many things. You would be surprised at some of them, I think.”
Annabel wondered if his reticence was due to the audience of two not far behind them and tried to hurry their steps a little. “You must tell me some of them some day.”
“I intend to.” His voice was almost caressing. “Tell me, did you enjoy The Lady of the Lake? Or no—you cannot have had time to read it so soon.”
“Oh, but I have. I was going to thank you again for it. It kept me up far too late last night. In fact, I think I liked it even better than Marmion. The setting was almost a character unto itself. It’s made me quite eager to visit Scotland.”
He drew her arm a little closer. “I would count it an honor to show you my country someday. The King James in The Lady was one of my ancestors, you know. There’s more—quite a bit more—than a drop of royal Stuart blood in the Carrick line. It was only because my great-grandfather was such a—shall we say, convincing fellow—that my family held onto our lands and titles after the Forty-Five…but that’s a story for another day. Though sometimes, in idle moments, I can’t help wondering what might have been.” He sighed. “It is a fool’s game, thinking about might-have-beens. I hope it isn’t one you play very often, my dear.”
This was not the path she’d expected their conversation to take. Of course, she often thought about what might have been if the limb on that wretched tree Freddy had climbed had not broken: might she have had another child by now, as she’d longed to? And beyond that was the might-have-been she only rarely allowed herself to contemplate: what if someone other than Freddy had offered for her first—someone who had wanted her for more than her dowry and expected ability to produce an heir?
“I—I try not to, but it isn’t always easy, in my circumstances,” she said, hoping she’d achieved the unconcerned tone she’d tried for.
“Maybe there are might-soon-bes that you could think about instead. That is what I do when regrets over the might-have-beens raise their ugly heads.” His voice dropped. “I have an idea for a might-soon-be that I very much wish to discuss with you.”
Annabel met his eyes and a little thrill of uncertain pleasure fluttered through her at the warmth in his expression…and then she couldn’t help glancing self-consciously behind them. Frances was chatting happily away to Lord Quinceton…who was staring directly at her.
She looked away hastily. Had he been listening to their conversation? Could he even hear it, above Frances’s prattle? Then she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. What if he had? Lord Glenrick had said nothing he—or she—must blush for…or that was any of Lord Quinceton’s business. But nudging the conversation onto a slightly different tack might be more comfortable.
“I cannot help being intrigued by your might-have-beens,” she said. “Do you think the nation would have been better off with one of your relations on the throne?”
“Instead of His Royal Highness the Prince of Whales?” Lord Glenrick enunciated the ‘h’ with dry precision. “Or any of his estimable brothers?”
They came across a copse of bluebells then, and the conversation was subsumed in cries of admiration from Frances. Annabel admired them more quietly; there was nothing more serene and soothing than a bluebell wood, the hazy purple-blue veil that covered the sun-dappled greenery under the shade of the trees. Lord Glenrick seemed to have caught her mood; he too was silent as they wandered the mown path through the flowers. She could have lingered there for much longer, but Frances, despite her initial pleasure in the bluebells, soon grew bored.
“Can’t we go to the maze now? I’m aching to see it! Aren’t you, Annabel?” she asked plaintively.
Annabel smiled to herself. For a woman in her thirties, Frances could be very young sometimes. “I think it would be great fun,” she said. Lord Glenrick raised an eyebrow at her, but obediently turned to follow Frances and Lord Quinceton toward Hampton Court’s famous hedge maze.
“Oh, this is so exciting!” Frances said as they came to its entrance. “You won’t get us lost, will you, Quin?”
“I’ll endeavor not to,” he replied. “Except that I thought that doing so was the point of the exercise.”
She giggled. “Well, yes, but no one’s supposed to admit it. And anyway, the man up there can direct us out if you can’t.” She waved at a bored-looking groundskeeper, ensconced on a tall platform above the maze to help direct the hopelessly lost to the exit.
“That sounded like a challenge, Quinceton!” Lord Glenrick called after them. “Do you indeed think mazes are ‘great fun?’” he added more quietly to Annabel as they waited for Frances and the marquis to get a head-start down the green passage.
She had thought that attempting the maze might indeed be amusing. But now, in the moment, the idea of trailing through it behind Frances and Lord Quinceton had lost its appeal. “Not particularly, but I don’t want to disappoint Frances,” she murmured back. “She was so looking forward to coming here.”
“You are a darling, you know,” he said, abruptly turning and leading her away from the maze’s entrance. “But if you’re not as eager to get lost in there as she is, then we shall leave it to her and Quin. She won’t miss us. Not with her present company,” he added.
So Lord Glenrick was aware of Frances’s obsession with Lord Quinceton, then. There was probably no way he could not be, after all these years. Yes, Frances would be quite happy to wander the maze without them…but how did Lord Quinceton feel about this arrangement?
And why, for heaven’s sake, was she even thinking about them?
Lord Glenrick steered them down a quiet path shaded by trees, and they ambled along for some time in solitary peace. For such a pleasant day, the gardens were remarkably thin of visitors, which suited her quite well after all the crowds she’d been among whilst on watch at the Exhibition. Sally and Maria and Dorothea and Emily were all taking turns today to watch there; would any of them see the handsome young couple that she and Emily had observed behaving so oddly yesterday? It was a pity that Clementina could not help—she would have the best chance of hearing just what they were whispering about—
“A penny for your thoughts, Annabel?”
She glanced up at him, startled at his use of her given name. He smiled back. “I beg your pardon, my dear. Perhaps I should not have done that. But it’s how I think of you, you know. And I think of you a great deal.”
Oh. Annabel fought to ignore the fluttery sensation that rose once again in her midsection. “I doubt my thoughts are worth as much as that. I’m just enjoying the day.”
“So am I.” Their steps had slowed; now he halted them completely in the shade of a great holly tree. He gazed at her for the space of a breath or two, then with great deliberation raised his hand to her cheek, allowing his fingertips to trail lightly across it before bending his head and touching his lips to hers.
She closed her eyes as a jumble of thoughts and reactions tumbled through her: gratification and excitement (wouldn’t Emily be pleased to know she’d been right?) followed by nervous disapproval (wouldn’t Grandmother Shellingham be appalled?) and finally…just a whiff of disappointment.
She’d wondered how it would feel to be kissed by a man who sincerely wanted to kiss her, unlike Freddy and his good-natured but perfunctory salutes. But Lord Glenrick’s obvious desire—it was plain in his quickened breath and the increasing eagerness of his mouth—had called forth no answering physical response in her. Was she, after all, one of those chilly women incapable of passion? Perhaps if she tried to enjoy it, just as she’d dutifully tried to enjoy Freddy’s occasional conjugal visits—
“Annabel,” he whispered, his other hand reaching up to grip her shoulder. “Oh, Annabel, I could just devour you—”
That send a bit of a shiver through her. She made herself unstiffen under his hands and tried to kiss him back, but couldn’t help feeling relieved when he finally drew back to look at her.
“You’ve completely bewitched me, you know.” He traced the outline of her mouth with one finger.
“Oh, no, Lord Glen—”
He pressed the finger over her lips. “You must call me Alec, my dear.”
She took a breath. “Alec, I—”
“Ssh. There’s nothing to discuss. Only tell me that you did not find that repugnant.”
“No, of course I didn’t.” She hadn’t, really. Not repugnant—
His hand tightened on her shoulder. “Then might I do it again sometime soon?”
But before she could decide what to answer, a voice called, “There you are! Why didn’t you follow us?”
Lord Glenrick—could she make herself start calling him Alec?—quickly dropped his hands and turned. “What, through the maze already?”
Frances and Lord Quinceton were coming down the path toward them, Frances still clinging to his arm. “Quin marched us directly to the center and out again in no time at all. He’s so clever!” she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
Lord Quinceton did not rise to Frances’s compliment. He was once again looking fixedly at her, Annabel realized with some discomfort, his expression unreadable. What had he and Frances seen as they rounded the corner and come upon her and Lord Glenrick? Had it been obvious that he’d been kissing her? She raised a hand involuntarily to her mouth, and he looked away.
Frances was still happily chattering away. “I’m so glad we found you. I need to borrow Annabel and sit down for a moment.”
Lord Glenrick’s brow furrowed. “Are you well, Frances? You haven’t overexerted yourself, have you?”
Frances waved a careless hand at him. “Quite well. Go away, you two. We’ll go sit on that garden seat for a few minutes.” She indicated a bench set a little bit further down the path overlooking a pretty little copse of bluebells and the last of the primroses.
Her brother looked at her with concern but took Lord Quinceton’s arm and continued past them.
“How kind your brother is!” Annabel said when they were out of earshot. “Are you quite well?”
“Alec’s always been a most considerate brother,” Frances agreed. “And I’m perfectly well—it’s just that I’ve torn a ribbon off my slipper. Do you think you could fix it for me? Our nanny never permitted me to properly learn to do anything but embroider because she didn’t think a duke’s daughter ought to know how to sew. I just about died when I felt it come loose while Quin and I were in the maze.”
Annabel strove to keep her countenance. Evidently it was permitted to a lowly marquis’s daughter to do something as menial as wield a needle. “Certainly, Frances.”
“Oh, thank you! You’re such a dear! I’ve a needle and thread in my reticule—isn’t it the silliest thing? Nanny wouldn’t permit me to sew, but always insisted I carry them.”
She kept up a stream of talk as they went to the bench, in a very good mood indeed. Annabel wondered if Lord Quinceton was in an equally exalted frame of mind after their walk through the maze and glanced after him and Lord Glenrick, strolling slowly down the path. Lord Glenrick still held Lord Quinceton’s arm; Lord Quinceton held himself stiffly, and Annabel remembered that they’d stood the same way in front of the picture at the Exhibition. There was definitely something odd between the pair of them—
Frances plonked down on the bench, fumbled with one of her shoes, and handed it to Annabel. “See? I was right—one of the ribbons is off.” She rummaged in her reticule and pulled out a tiny cork with a needle stuck in it, wrapped in thread. “Did you have a nice time with Alec on your walk?”
Annabel took the needle, knotted the thread, and began to tack the end of the ribbon into the kid slipper with quick stitches, her face bent over her work to hide her blushes. If Frances hadn’t seen them kissing, she’d eat her hat, feathers and all. “He is a charming companion,” she said.
“That’s what he says about you.” Frances touched her arm. “He cares for you a great deal, Annabel. I do hope he and you—well, I think it’s high time he married, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have for a sister—oh! What tiny stitches you make!”
Annabel had drawn in her breath, but Frances was busily peering down at her handiwork, still exclaiming over her small stitches, so a response seemed unnecessary—which was a good thing, as her head was awhirl. Was Frances exaggerating, or did she truly think that her brother’s thoughts were drifting toward a proposal? What would she say if he did make her an offer? It would be tremendously flattering, of course—after all, he was a future duke. But she’d promised herself that if she married again, it would be for love. And she wasn’t at all convinced that she was ready to fall in love with Lord Glenrick, even though Freddy had been gone for over two years…which reminded her—
“Frances, pray forgive me—I forgot to ask you.” She took a final backstitch and knotted the thread. “You haven’t had a bereavement, have you?”
Frances’s head snapped up. “What?” she asked sharply.
“I was just wondering—Emily saw you in Thomas’s buying black gloves the other day.”
For some reason, she paled. “Oh. N-no, no one’s died…that is, I received a letter from my cousin—my great-aunt Mary is not in the best of health, it seems, and I—I thought it wise to be prepared.”
“Oh dear, how sad. Is she very elderly?”
“Quite. You know, I think I must learn to do practical sewing—what if you had not been here today?” she said, accepting the needle back from Annabel and sticking it back into the cork in her purse.
The two men returned not long after. The drive home was a quiet one, aside from Frances’s chatter in the carriage behind them.
“Will I see you at Almack’s this evening?” Annabel asked as Lord Glenrick escorted her to her door.
He hesitated. “Alas, no—I have a previous engagement. I wish I did not. But I trust I shall see you very soon.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, meeting her eyes as he did.
Annabel blushed and smiled…but couldn’t keep from glancing back at Lord Quinceton’s curricle. Frances was, amazingly, still talking; but once again, Lord Quinceton was watching her, his expression unreadable.
Annabel arrived at Almack’s that evening bubbling over with good spirits. A letter from Soames, her farm bailiff at the Abbey, was awaiting her when she came home from the afternoon’s expedition with Lord Glenrick. It contained the very welcome news that not only did the season’s corn crop appear very forward in the recent sunny weather, but also that he’d already arranged the sale of their fleeces barely a week after the sheep had been shorn…and for a very good price. Now she’d be able to afford a few additional improvements she hadn’t budgeted for this year, and if the autumn’s crop was as good as it bid fair to be, she’d be able to re-roof several tenants’ cottages this year rather than next. She felt as if she could breathe more deeply, all of a sudden, from sheer relief.
