Anne Barbour (31 page)

"You see," he concluded miserably. "You had come to mean ... a great deal to me. I could not deliver your sister to my father's ambitions, and I certainly could not see you wed to Bel."

"I see," said Eden woodenly. "I perceive I am to blush prettily and say thank you. Do you really think that makes all well?"

Seth swallowed. "No, of course not." Although this, of course, was precisely what he had hoped. He felt empty suddenly, and cold. How could he make her understand the motives that had led to his blind obedience to his father's wishes? He sank down on the chair opposite her.

"Eden, I have no excuses to offer. I wish I could say that I was somehow coerced into this infamous scheme, but I entered into it more or less willingly. You see"—he shifted in his chair—"as distasteful as I found the whole project—I've explained to you before, I made a vow—"

"Yes, I know all about your vow," snapped Eden, "and the motives that prompted it. Are you telling me that once you decided that Zoë would not suit, and having found a dull, submissive spinster to fill the bill"—Seth flushed a dull red—"that you completely abandoned the whole scheme because you had formed an affection for me?"

Seth drew a deep breath. "No," he said slowly and deliberately. "By that time I had realized that I am in love with you."

Eden gasped, feeling the blood drain from her face. How could he say such a thing to her? Only a few days ago, she had longed to hear those words on his lips, and had even thought they might be forthcoming in the not too distant future. Then he had given ample evidence that whatever feelings he might have nourished in his bosom had withered to a careless disregard.

"How
dare
you?" she whispered brokenly.

She watched as Seth sagged in his chair. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "I had thought perhaps—I know someone of my status could never aspire to your hand, but I wanted you to know what was in my heart." He rose. "I have done you a grievous harm, and I wish I could undo the damage I did."

"What are you talking about?" murmured Eden through stiff lips. "What is this idiocy about your status?"

He stared at her blankly, as though she had asked why the sky is blue. "Why, I am lowborn, of course," he replied with a hint of impatience.

In one of those increasingly inconvenient moments of identification with Seth, she felt his pain as though it were a shaft through her own spirit. It was as if his anguish were a reflection of her own. Good Lord, he was serious! Could it be that he really loved her? For a moment, she was almost overcome with a dizzying sense of happiness, which was smothered almost immediately at the recollection of his most recent betrayal. How could a man love a woman and still destroy her happiness so completely and so carelessly?

"For heavens' sake," she said angrily, "for a man of such vaunted sense and perspicacity, you are speaking perfect nonsense. You are a gentleman, Seth. That is apparent in every fibre of your being. No, it is not your status that I find unacceptable. And I do understand the importance you attach to that ridiculous vow. No, it is that other. I do not understand how you can stand before me, mouthing words of love, when—"

"What other?" asked Seth blankly

Eden felt she simply could not go through all this with him. "Please, Seth. I can't—"

She was interrupted as the library door flew open to admit her father.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you. Come along, we're going back to London."

"W-what?" Eden stammered in bewilderment. "But I thought you were going to dinner with—"

"That was before I remembered I want to get to that bank! If we leave now, we can still get there before closing, otherwise we shall have to wait until Monday morning."

"Bank?" interposed Seth, perplexed.

"Yes," snapped Lord Beckett. "Do not think I have forgotten, Eden, what I said to you yesterday. No daughter of mine is going to live on her own, eking out an independence by peddling paint daubs."

For a moment, Seth stared at Lord Beckett, then at Eden. "He knows?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course, he knows." Eden's reply was caustic. "Since you were so obliging as to tell him."

"But I didn't'"

"What? But Papa said—"

Both turned to gape at Lord Beckett, who had paled suddenly.

"Oh," he said, beginning to back out of the room. "Demme, I forgot—

"But how could he have known if you didn't tell him?" The words burst from Eden. The dizziness she had experienced earlier returned, increased in magnitude and intensity. What was happening? Could it be? A sudden suspicion rose in her mind, and she whirled on her father.

"Papa, what have you done?"

Stung by the harshness in his daughter's voice. Lord Beckett resorted to bluster. "I didn't do anything!"

"You told me that Seth had related to you—"

"Yes ... well, that wasn't precisely how it was."

Eden knew a wholly unfilial urge to hit her father over the head with a blunt instrument. "Just how was it—precisely?" she asked, spitting out the question word by word.

"There's no need to take me up so, Eden." Lord Beckett took refuge in the disappearing shreds of his dignity. "I am your father, after all."

"What have you done?" Eden asked again, this time her voice resounding like that of an avenging goddess.

"Well, it wasn't me at all. It was the duke. We were conversing—as I told you—in his library. I'd just discovered your painting hanging there—" He paused as Seth gave a startled exclamation. "I asked where he'd got it, and he said Mr. Lindow had purchased it. When I asked where, he took me to a little office in the back of the house and began looking through the papers stacked on the desk."

"Good God!" said Seth explosively. "You and Father were rummaging through my papers?"

"Well, I didn't know they was yours. And, anyway, as the duke said, since you're his man of business, and since we were in his house, everything there was rightly his to begin with."

    "Indeed," growled Seth.

     "We found the bill of sale for the daisy picture and another besides." He halted again, this time at the small sound uttered by Eden. "They all bore the name of that Rellihan feller and his address. And I tell you, Eden," continued Lord Beckett, the picture of paternal disapproval, "His Grace was more than somewhat taken aback at the thought that such a gently bred lady was going behind her papa's back to earn her own money."

Eden thought she might simply explode in an unbecoming burst of blood, bone, and emotion! Seth had not betrayed her! Her father had managed that feat all on his own! She cast Seth a look of such jumbled emotions that he almost smiled.

"Anyway," concluded Lord Beckett, the bluster returning to his voice, "we'll be going now. If we stand here nattering much longer, closing time will be on us again, and I don't intend to wait another needless day for what is rightly mine."

"I see," said Seth, and Eden was startled to note that he spoke, apparently, in the best of good humor. "You will, my lord, of course do as you see fit, but I must tell you it will present a very odd picture indeed to the rest of the world."

"Eh?" Lord Beckett glared suspiciously at Seth.

"It is not uncommon in this day and age for perfectly respectable ladies to pursue careers in the arts. Look at Miss Austen—a clergyman's daughter. She had sold, I think, five or six novels before her death a couple of years ago. And look at Lady Caro Lamb—although the word 'respectability' can hardly be uttered in the same breath with her name, she is a peeress. She published
Glenarvon
to enormous success, and I understand she's working on a second novel."

"Yes, but they didn't go haring off on their own with their money."

"No, of course not. However, there is nothing in it for a lady of mature years to set up her own establishment with a suitable companion."

"Mm, I still say it won't do. I--''

"In any event," Seth went on, an odd note in his voice, "even if you do elect to empty your daughter's present account, you will be unable to do so in the future."

"Eh?" barked Lord Bartlett again. "What are you talking about?"

Seth paused a moment. He exchanged a swift, unreadable glance with Eden before he continued speaking. "Because very soon she will be a married woman, and as such no longer under your control."

Eden could only stare at him. Her knees gave way, and she plumped down into the chair behind her. Her gasp of astonishment was no less heartfelt than that of her father.

"Married!" they both exclaimed in the same breath.

"Yes," said Seth firmly. 'To me."

"But, you ... you are a soldier's son!" spluttered Lord Beckett.

"But, a very wealthy one. And, I have been told, I'm a gentleman."

"Nevertheless, I won't have it."

"I can understand," Seth returned mildly, "your reluctance to lose such a treasure." He smiled warmly at Eden, who continued to gape at him, feeling that she must look as mindless as she felt. "No man is worthy of her, of course. However, I must remind you that she does not need your consent."

What Eden recognized as his acquisitive expression began to creep over Lord Beckett's face. "Wealthy, you say? How wealthy?"

Eden's toes curled in distaste. "Really, Papa!"

"I do not think we want to discuss this before a lady, but I believe you will be pleasantly surprised," replied Seth, nothing but the blandest courtesy in his voice.

Lord Beckett stood uncertainly. It was obvious that he was not happy at this turn of events, but he did not want to offend a son-in-law who might turn out to be a boon. And then, reflected Eden cynically, it looked as though the spinster daughter he had despaired of some years ago might finally be taken off his hands.

"I suppose you mean to let her make a fool of herself over this painting business?" he asked, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

"I do not propose to
let
her do anything. She is an adult, perfectly capable of making her own decisions. However it is my intent that she should paint until her fingers fall off if she so desires, and she may sell her work on the steps of St. Paul's if she likes."

Lord Beckett made no response, but stared at Seth as though he had just entered the room stark naked.

Eden thought it time she intervened. She rose from the chair into which she had sunk, boneless and trembling, a few minutes before. She was not, she conceded, in much better straits now. "Papa," she began, but Seth moved quickly to stand at her side.

"Actually, I had just finished proposing when you came in. Although your daughter has given me reason to believe my suit will prosper, I still await her answer. I wonder if I might beg your indulgence to leave us alone for a few minutes."

Eden inhaled sharply in indignation, but the prospect of getting rid of her father, even temporarily, was so appealing that she remained silent Lord Beckett, his mind still apparently on Seth's utterance about wealth, remained for some length, shuffling uncertainly from one foot to the other like a dog hopeful that the roast on the table will be his eventually, but not at all sure this will come to pass. At last, with a pontifical "I'll talk to you later, missy," he stamped from the room.

Eden whirled on Seth. "What do you mean by this?" she exclaimed. Sizzles of happiness still shot through her at the knowledge that it was not Seth who had revealed her efforts to establish herself as a successful artist. But to blurt out a proposal of marriage, merely, she was sure, to silence her father, if only for a moment. How could he? After professing that he loved her. For surely he could not have been speaking the truth on that matter, either—could he? He had not disclosed her secret, but he had used her shamefully—as he had Zoë. He had admitted as much. He'd apologized and proffered his reasons for behaving so abominably, but—no, she could never trust him again.

These chaotic thoughts and more tumbled through her mind in the few seconds in which she stood gazing into his eyes— eyes in whose depths two flames seemed to leap.

"I'm sorry to have been so precipitate," he said softly, his hands on her shoulders. "On the drive here, I had an opportunity to think at some length, and by the time we arrived, I had come to the conclusion that I've been a fool. For all my adult life I have pandered to the duke's interests, completely submerging my own inclinations merely to ensure that he became even more obscenely wealthy and powerful than he already is."

He began a slow stroking motion on her neck, which she found so distracting she could hardly attend to his words.

"I have you to thank for that, for it was you who made me realize that whatever debt I owed to the duke, I paid in full a long time ago. It is time, I realized, that I look to my own interests. It was weeks ago that those interests became irrevocably bound to a beautiful, gifted artist of my acquaintance, and on the two occasions when I allowed my growing passion for her to spill over into what was not quite proper, I came to believe that she—you—had come to look on me first as a friend, and then, I hoped, as something more."

He had moved closer to her, and the fingers on one hand cupped the back of her head, while the other brushed tendrils of hair from her cheek. She knew she should have stepped back with an appropriate exclamation of outrage, but she could not have moved at that moment if so ordered by the Prince Regent.

"Long ago I had drummed into me the impossibility of one with my background aspiring to the hand of a lady, but a few minutes ago, you destroyed that fallacy in one sentence. I hope you meant what you said, my dearest love, because—oh, Eden—" He bent to brush his lips along her cheek. "I do love you so, and I cannot envision the rest of my life without you."

Eden lifted her face to receive his kiss. When his mouth came down on hers, urgent and seeking, she felt her defenses crumble and melt like the last of winter's ice in the heat of a spring sun. She arched into him, joy surging through her so fiercely she thought he must hear it in the beat of her pulse beneath his fingers.

When he withdrew his mouth a moment later to trail kisses that burned along her jaw and onto the line of her throat, she whispered brokenly, "Oh, Seth, my darling Seth, I love you, too. I have been such an idiot."