An Artful Seduction (15 page)

A panicked expression crossed her face before it was replaced with a polite smile. “You needn’t trouble yourself, my lord. I’m sure you have much more important duties than to attend a fitting.”

He did. Surely he did. But he couldn’t think of a single one at the moment.

Chapter Eighteen

“I don’t believe it! More customers are coming,” Chloe said, as she hurried to clear the counter of invoices.

Amelia thrust a copy of the
Times
at Eliza
.
“This newspaper article is wonderful,” she said, before rushing off to help another customer who just walked into the shop.

Eliza couldn’t help herself. She unfolded the paper and read the article for the third time that morning.

There was quite a stir at the Royal Academy this weekend. The influential art critic, Lord Huntingdon, asked an anonymous woman for her opinion on a new artist’s work. Surprising to everyone, he agreed with her flattering description of the painting, and Huntingdon even offered the lucky artist a patronage. Turns out the mystery woman is Mrs. Somerton, owner of the Peacock Print Shop on Bruton Street. One can only assume Lord Huntingdon is a loyal customer of the establishment.

Eliza glanced up and pasted a smile on her face as the shop bells chimed once again.

“We told you he would help us,” Chloe whispered before she too walked off to assist their new patrons.

Her sisters were right. Business was thriving and at no better time. The winter had been harsh and Eliza was exhausted from spending evenings reviewing the books and worrying if they would make it to spring. The
Times
article, accompanied by a break in the snowfall, had led to a surge in customers. Prints and paintings were selling as were bric-a-brac décor. Eliza had no doubt the sales were a result of Grayson’s comments to the newspaperman.

She owed him in more ways than she could admit.

Amelia stifled a yawn as she assisted a customer choosing a print. Eliza stopped short in dismay. Her sister also seemed tired this morning. Could it be because the shop had been so busy or was she coming down with Chloe’s illness?

Or was there something else?

Amelia turned and caught Eliza’s gaze, then quickly looked away. Eliza waited until the customer paid for his purchase and departed before pulling Amelia aside. “I know I’ve been preoccupied lately, but is there something wrong?” Eliza asked.

Amelia shrugged. “I was up late painting. The truth is I was considering selling one of my forgeries to help with the rent.”

Eliza’s mind floundered. “You know I’m against it.”

“I’m aware how you feel.”

“Then why?”

“For you. For us. For the household. Because you worry all the time.”

Eliza blinked. Was it true? Did they perceive her as worrying all the time?

“You must understand why I want to help,” Amelia said, reaching out to clutch Eliza’s hand. “You’re always the solid, responsible one.”

“I am the eldest. It’s my duty,” Eliza pointed out.

Amelia shook her head. “That’s nonsense. I’m a full-grown woman. You always shoulder our burdens and are the logical sister who exhibits control of her impulses.”

In control of her impulses? Had they any idea how close she had come to giving herself to Grayson on the way home from the Royal Academy? He had been right about her. Viewing great works of art unleashed her passionate nature—a passion he alone understood and shared. She had been caught up in the excitement of her surroundings and with the handsome man who’d accompanied her. She had easily forgotten about her worries, thinking only of her base desires.

She had never been in
less
control.

“I don’t fault you for wanting to help the household, but I also don’t want you to go to such extremes as to sell forged artwork without my knowledge. My attempts to gain the false Jan Wildens painting are what got us into trouble with Lord Huntingdon in the first place.”

“Involving the earl has helped us more than harmed us,” Amelia argued.

“Perhaps, but promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

Amelia hesitated, then hugged her. “All right. Business has picked up, and there doesn’t seem a need for me to step in now. But please understand that I want to help. You shouldn’t be the only one to worry. You used to smile, be light-hearted…laugh.”

Eliza frowned. When was the last time she laughed with her sisters? Had it been that long? Eliza’s arms tightened around Amelia. “I shall, I promise. Now I need to leave for my fitting at the dressmaker’s shop. Will you and Chloe be able to handle the shop?”

“Of course. Please go. You must take advantage of the luxury no matter how it came about. You should seize happiness when it crosses your path.”

…

Eliza returned to the dress shop with mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation. She couldn’t wait to see how the dressmaker had turned the luxurious sapphire silk into a ball gown. But at the same time, she was fearful of running into Lady Kinsdale. She couldn’t say what upset her more—the idea that the lady had been Grayson’s lover or that the thought made Eliza maddeningly jealous.

Mrs. Gardner ushered her into the back room of the dress shop, swept aside a curtain of one of the partitions, and hung the gown on a wall hook. “Is it to your liking?”

Eliza’s heart skipped with joy as she gazed at the shimmering sapphire gown. It was stunning with a beaded bodice, full sleeves, and hem trimmed with silver ribbon. Her long-buried female vanity surfaced as she touched the soft fabric. “It’s absolutely lovely.”

The dressmaker eyed Eliza from head to toe. “It will look exquisite on you. Please wait while I fetch my measuring tape and pin cushion,” she said before departing from the room.

As soon as Mrs. Gardner left the fitting room, Eliza peeked beneath the curtained partitions and was relieved to find the adjoining room vacant. But her relief was short-lived when she heard footsteps and female voices in the hall.

“It’s a riding gown, not a ball gown. I’m tired of all the frilly pink dresses in my wardrobe. I prefer something violet or burgundy. Something a grown lady would wear,” a young female voice said.

“His lordship likes pink,” remarked an older woman’s disapproving voice.

“I doubt my brother would even notice,” added the young voice.

“I have just the color and material in mind. If the young lady would please wait in the back room,” said Mrs. Gardner.

Eliza whirled to the doorway just as Mrs. Gardner entered, followed by a young girl with curly, dark hair. Eliza recognized her as Grayson’s sister, Sara.

“I shall return shortly with sketches and fabric samples,” the dressmaker said on her way out a second time.

The girl’s brown eyes widened when she spotted Eliza. “Mrs. Somerton! What a wonderful surprise.”

“Hello, Lady Sara. Are you alone?”

Sara shook her head. “My maid accompanied me.” A sudden mischievous glint lit her eyes. “If you’re inquiring about my brother, he is not present. Huntingdon wouldn’t set foot in a lady’s dress shop,” Sara said, giggling.

Eliza smiled. She wouldn’t contradict the girl and ruin her opinion of her brother.

Sara skipped over to clasp Eliza’s hand. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“I’d hoped you would visit again. My maid is dozens and dozens of years older, and it can be lonesome in a big house.”

Eliza’s eyebrow arched at Sara’s description of someone so much older than her thirteen years. “You are a charming young lady. You must have many friends,” she said.

“I suppose. But I’m anxiously waiting to turn eighteen for my coming out so I can attend all the exciting balls and parties.”

“Ah, I see. You want to dance with the gentlemen,” Eliza said.

Sara shook her head, causing her curls to bounce. “Only one interests me.”

“You have a favorite? Lord Huntingdon will want to meet the fellow,” Eliza pointed out.

Sara dropped Eliza’s hand and began to pick imaginary lint from her skirt. “My brother would never approve of him.”

“How do you know? You must give your brother a chance.”

“You don’t understand. Mr. Samuel Neal is the most handsome gentleman I have ever seen, and his family is quite well off.”

“Then—”

“They are not aristocracy, but in trade. Samuel’s father owns a shipping fleet, and Samuel is being groomed to take over the family business. My brother wants me to marry a duke’s son,” Sara said.

Poor Samuel is just like me
. Eliza was no longer the daughter of a baron, but the offspring of a criminal. A woman in trade.

“I take it you don’t like the duke’s son?” Eliza asked.

Sara’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “He’s pompous, arrogant, and talks only of himself. He has no interest in my opinions. I could never be happy with him.”

“You must explain your concerns to your brother.”

Sara let forth an unladylike snort. “An impossible task. All that concerns him is the title and family line. Grayson used to be fun. We used to talk. Ever since mamma and papa died, I’ve become his responsibility rather than his sister.”

Eliza froze. Hadn’t Amelia said something similar about her? Could she have much more in common with Grayson than she’d thought? Both had lost their parents and had accepted responsibility for their younger siblings. Granted, her father wasn’t dead, but he’d been long gone and of no help to Eliza when it came to her sisters. Amelia had said she should enjoy life and seize moments of happiness.

When had she stopped?

“That’s why I was hoping you’d visit,” Sara said. “My brother has been uptight and short-tempered lately. He’s quite unpleasant to live with. A visit from you would undoubtedly help.”

Eliza wasn’t sure about that. “What about his lady friend?” she found herself asking.

Sara’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“The one you mentioned when you climbed into my carriage. Lady Kinsdale.”

Sara wrinkled her nose. “Leticia hasn’t visited in months, thank goodness. My brother has much more sense than to keep her company.”

He told the truth.
Eliza’s heart sang. Grayson had said he’d ended the liaison months ago. She’d been unsure whether to believe him. She shouldn’t care, but she did.

Was there harm in their flirtation? She’d been so worried about their survival for so long that she’d become a creature of habit. She already agreed to help Grayson, so why not enjoy herself at the same time? Why not seize the moment?

The Royal Academy had been a lifelong dream. Attending the viscountess’s birthday ball would also be a once in a lifetime experience. She’d get to dress like a wealthy woman, mingle with the
beau monde,
and dance with Grayson. She eyed the waiting silk dress, hanging in the curtained partition. Sunlight from a nearby window made the sapphire silk shimmer. It would look like a rippling waterfall on her body.

She turned back to Sara and found the girl studying her. A sudden impulse struck Eliza and she smiled.

“Sara,” Eliza said. “Have you been to Gunter’s for ices?”

Sara’s eyes lit. “Grayson used to take me. He never has time anymore.”

“I shall take you.”

“When?”

“How about today?”

“Truly?”

When Eliza nodded, Sara threw herself into her arms. “I knew I was right about you.”

Mrs. Gardner returned, and Eliza’s gown was efficiently measured, pinned, and fitted. Sara picked fabric for a riding outfit, and selected a style from several sketches the dressmaker offered.

Sara’s maid trailed behind as they emerged from the dress shop. Out of the corner of her eye, Eliza spotted a fine carriage with the Huntingdon crest waiting for Sara. A footman hopped down to open the door.

Sara tugged on Eliza’s sleeve. “You must promise not to repeat anything I’ve told you in confidence about Mr. Samuel Neal to my brother,” she whispered, drawing her attention away from the coach.

Eliza’s brow furrowed. “You will have to tell your brother your feelings for Mr. Neal and your dislike of the duke’s son. You must trust him.”

“Not yet. Will you keep my secret?” Sara whispered more urgently this time.

Eliza patted Sara’s arm. “No need to get upset. I’ll agree for now.”

“Agree to what?”

Eliza started at the sound of an all-too familiar masculine voice. She whirled to see Grayson leaning against the side of the coach, and her hand flew to her chest. “Goodness! You startled me.”

“Pardon. I came to fetch my sister and I’m pleasantly surprised to find you with her.” Dressed in a striped waistcoat and navy jacket, his shoulders appeared a mile wide.

Her heart beat rapidly. She hadn’t seen him since their passionate embrace in the carriage. She’d thought of him often enough, and counted the days with anticipation and trepidation until the Pickens’s ball.

One week left.

His lips curved in a lazy smile. “My carriage is parked openly by the curb. I wasn’t hiding.”

“Mrs. Somerton has invited me to Gunter’s for ices,” Sara told Grayson.

Grayson’s dark eyes looked at Eliza inquiringly. “May I accompany you?”

Sara looked at him questioningly. “I thought you were busy today. A curator—lord something or other—to visit.”

Grayson waved a dismissive hand. “He can wait. What could be more important than accompanying two beautiful ladies to a confectioner’s shop on this lovely afternoon?”

Sara’s face beamed as she turned to Eliza. “I told you that you would put him in a good mood.”

Eliza kept quiet. The girl was quite innocent and she didn’t want to ruin her perception. What would she think if she knew the true reason that had brought her together with her brother?

A short carriage ride later, they arrived at 7 Berkley Square in the West End of London. A charming storefront with a sign with a pineapple read
Gunter’s.
Grayson held the door as they entered the confectioner’s shop.

Sara gasped in delight at the array of treats on display in the open cases—Italian wet and dry sweetmeats, chocolates, creams, sugar plums, pastries, ices and numerous ice cream flavors including orange, lemon, pistachio, jasmine, even burnt filbert and Parmesan.

Sara and Eliza both ordered lemon ices and Grayson the pistachio ice cream. They sat in the corner of the shop on dainty chairs at a table with clawed feet. Eliza tasted a spoonful of the ice, and the sugary sourness of the lemon melted on her tongue in a burst of flavor.