Artful Deceptions (10 page)

“Lord Locke to see you, sir.” Lord Evan Griffin’s footman bowed at the study door and stood aside to allow Galen to pass.

Despite the impeccable elegance of his clothes, the visitor was more a force of nature than the idle gentleman he purported to be, and the footman hid a smile as Galen’s hat went flying across the room to the couch as his host rose to greet him.

“It’s about time you got home, Griffin.” Banishing formality, Galen dropped on the couch to join his hat.

Evan smiled wryly. “Why don’t you take a seat, Locke? What have you been about, that my presence was required? I cannot seem to remember my existence being of great pertinence to yours.”

“You’re beginning to sound like one of those damn awful politicians already. Do you have any idea where your sister is this minute?”

Evan appeared suitably startled. “Melanie? Melanie is the reason you’re here?”

That hadn’t been what he had intended, but it was time he declared himself anyway. Galen opened his mouth, but the appropriate words didn’t come out. “Somebody’s got to look after the tyke. You certainly aren’t. I suppose I’d better address Gordon, but there’s not time to go to Somerset. Meanwhile, she’s over at Lady Jersey’s trying to pry ancient gossip out of the old biddy.” Surprised at the way that sounded, Galen shut up quickly.

Married less than a year, Evan Griffin sat back in his chair with a wicked gleam of laughter in his eye. Shorter and more slender than his friend, he still had the robust good health of a man who spent much time out-of-doors. His hair was of a darker hue than Galen’s, his features were more weather-worn, and his clothes, while of expensive cut, were lacking the fashionable elegance of the wealthier man. Despite their differences, they had been friends for some years, and Evan thought he understood what bothered the other man now.

“Tyke? That doesn’t sound the proper terminology for a suitor. If you’ve set your cap for Melanie, you’d best take another look. She’s a flighty little brat who ought to have her neck wrung, but she’s far from being a tyke any longer. Even I have noticed that much.”

“That’s because you were away in the war and missed watching her grow up. It doesn’t seem yesterday that I was pulling her on a sled and she was pelting me with snowballs. But young ladies don’t go haring off after mysteries. You’re going to have to put a stop to it, Griffin. ‘Silence’ Jersey is quite likely to disclose every tidbit of gossip about Rhys Llewellyn, should Melanie loose her devilish wiles on her.”

Evan frowned over this information and pulled his pen idly through his fingers as he watched his friend. He was receiving conflicting messages here. He wished Daphne were listening so she could turn her very perceptive instincts to this conversation, but she was in all likelihood with Melanie at the gossip session Galen was reviling. Why on earth should his old friend be so averse to Melanie hearing a little gossip about Llewellyn? Was it Llewellyn he was objecting to, or gossip?

“I can’t think that Llewellyn is a subject for a ladies’ conversation, but I suppose she must hear it sometime. My wife has always been curious about Rhys too. They’ll pry the news loose one way or another.”

Galen glared at him. “And you don’t care? Rhys is a damned good fellow and I wouldn’t have his name maligned by anyone, but you know as well as I that his parents never married. He has no name and not a feather to fly on. Melanie will be conjuring up romantic dreams of saving his reputation and returning him to society or some other such damn-fool notion, and embarrass Rhys as well as herself if you allow her to go on.”

Evan sighed and swung his feet up on the desk, adding more marks to the finish for his wife to bemoan. “I’ll be the last one to stop her, Locke. I owe Llewellyn too much to deny him anything. For twenty years we went hand in hand, and then out of the clear blue sky his family declares him illegitimate and he’s suddenly a nonentity. I can’t accept that. He’s still the same fellow who raced Melanie over the moors and danced at our balls, even if he’s missing a foot after the war.”

Gloomily Galen tossed his hat back and forth. “Women don’t need to hear that sordid story. I never listened to it myself. I was just talking to his uncle last night. He doesn’t have to live like he does. His uncle is willing to give him some sort of allowance.”

Evan made a rude noise. “Owen Llewellyn waited until Rhys’s father was dead before telling him that there were no marriage papers and that he could not legally inherit the title or estate. Now, don’t you find that just a bit odd? Rhys was raised to be the next baron and to take over his father’s estates. Why in hell would a man do that if he knew his son had no legal right to them? Perhaps his father went a little crazy after his mother’s death, as they say, but no man is quite that crazy. There is something havey-cavey about Owen Llewellyn, but Rhys won’t fight the man, nor will he take his handouts. He has nothing left but his pride, and he’s too stiff-necked to let it go.”

“Well, once Melanie hears the story, don’t be surprised if she launches a campaign to name Owen a fraud or some such folderol. I give you fair warning. You don’t happen to know where Rhys is, do you? He disappeared over a week ago and no one’s heard from him since.”

“Daphne told me about that. You don’t really think he stole the fool painting, do you? He knows good and well I’d buy it for him if he wanted it. From what I understand, Arianne would have willingly withheld it from sale. I don’t know what the connection is, but I can’t believe Rhys stole it.”

“Neither do I, but I suspect he knows something. I feel guilty about the loss, since Miss Richards placed it with Christie’s at my suggestion, but she won’t accept any recompense from me. I don’t know how else to make it up to her except to try to locate the missing piece.”

Evan grinned and returned his feet to the floor. “I wouldn’t argue with Arianne anymore if I were you, my friend. I offered to bring her out with Melanie this Season, and she all but bit my head off. Like Rhys, she has her very own notions of what is proper, and she has more pride than what is good for her. Now, if you told me
Arianne
was going after Rhys, I’d be worried. Once she takes an idea in her head, she doesn’t let it go. When she was little and wore that awful braid, I used to tease her and pull it—until she took to lacing it with hat pins. Stay clear of Arianne, Galen. Find the painting if you must, but don’t intrude in my cousin’s sheltered world. You might get more than you bargained for.”

Galen scowled. “You have been of absolutely no help. Could you not at least invent some flummery to persuade the Richards family to stay at your estate for the summer? Mrs. Richards is not well, and Miss Richards is convinced her health would improve in the country.”

Evan leaned back in his chair and tilted his head thoughtfully as he studied his large friend. “For a man who has come courting my sister, you seem to have an inordinate interest in my cousin. If you are attempting to please Melanie by making Arianne happy, you might succeed, but she won’t be exceedingly grateful, all the same. Melanie is rather attached to Arianne and would hate to see her gone before the Season is ended.”

Defeated, Galen rose to his feet. “Unlike you, I possess no ulterior motives for my actions. I merely meant to help a young lady in distress. Give Gordon my regards and tell him I would speak to him when he has time. If I must, I shall even traipse out to Somerset for an interview. Speaking to you is obviously of little use.”

Evan stood and clapped him on the back. “Speaking to either of us will be of little use. Melanie is the one you will have to convince. But I wish you the best of luck. She’s an expensive little brat. I’ll be glad to have her out of my pockets.” He grinned wider at his friend’s annoyance.

Visibly donning his normal affable demeanor, Galen shook Evan’s hand in parting. “Then I expect no complaints when Melanie introduces me as your new brother-in-law. My pockets can afford her.”

For a moment Evan looked serious as he regarded his friend. Then, seeing the determination in Galen’s eyes, he nodded. “The two of you would suit. I’d be happy to welcome you to the family.”

Satisfied, Galen left the Griffin household and turned toward the home of Lord Llewellyn. Swinging his walking stick in the brisk air, he decided if he were going to become a boring, meddlesome old fool with age, he might as well practice it now. Perhaps after a visit to the baron, he might see if the younger Richardses would enjoy a drive in the park. Now that he had set his sights on one woman, there was no need to impress any other today or any other day. He was quite a free man again.

* * * *

“Daphne says it is wrong to gossip,” Melanie complained, “but you have a right to know as well as I. I don’t believe for a minute that Rhys’s father didn’t marry his mother. I know that painting is of Lady Llewellyn. It has to be. And there was something in it that proves she was married.”

Arianne ran the duster over the porcelain figurines on the mantel. She had not expected company today and wore one of her oldest gowns covered by a cumbersome apron. It was only because she couldn’t find a cap that she didn’t look the lowest of servants.

At the same time, her cousin appeared the most feminine of angels in her frail white gown with the puff sleeves and gauzy skirts trimmed with the daintiest of embroidery. A totally useless shawl in matching yards of embroidered cotton wrapped gracefully around her arms and waist in adornment, making Arianne wish for the kind of idle life that allowed one to be decorated like a window frame. Laughing inwardly at the idea, she answered Melanie’s question without its being asked.

“The wedding ring. The woman in the painting wore a wedding ring. Rhys noticed it at once. For once in your life, cousin, you may well be right.”

Gratified at this approval from her older and more sensible cousin, Melanie folded her hands in her lap and waited for the obvious to be stated. When Arianne didn’t say more, she demanded, “What are we going to do about it?”

Arianne turned and lifted her dark eyebrows questioningly. “Do about it? What can we do? The painting is gone and so is Rhys. I daresay he knows what he is about.”

Melanie’s slender fingers clutched in fists of frustration as she glared at Arianne. “Don’t you see? If Lady Jersey is correct, Lord Llewellyn has defrauded Rhys of his title and lands. And the only evidence he possesses has been stolen and probably destroyed. We must help him, Rainy. What can we do to help Rhys?”

Arianne stood still, feather duster poised in flight as she contemplated this preposterous assessment. If Rhys were truly the rightful baron, then there was no hope that he would return for her. She might as well expect Lord Locke to come courting as to think that. But her own very tentative emotions had no place in this. It was hard to believe that a man would deliberately deprive a young relative of his rightful place in society, but she knew little about Melanie’s world. She supposed if a great amount of wealth were involved, one might be tempted. But what they could do about it, she could not fathom.

“I cannot imagine that badgering the current baron would help his cause to any great effect,” Arianne said wryly, lowering her duster and twirling it between her fingers.
“It seems if there were anyone to come forward in Mr. Llewellyn’s favor he would have done so by now.”

Melanie brightened. “That is just it! Lady Jersey says that the present Lord Llewellyn’s wife left him right about the time that he came into the title. The disagreement was never made public, but that would explain it. His wife knew he wasn’t the rightful baron. She must have known Rhys’s parents were married. If only we could find her ...”

Alarmed at the intensity of her usually carefree cousin’s planning, Arianne attempted to return sense to this conversation. “Rhys Llewellyn is no fool. He was of an age to question something of such great magnitude to his well-being. If his aunt knew anything and meant to reveal it, she would have done so then. There must be any number of other friends and relatives who could have done the same. It is no use trying to change something in which we have no knowledge.”

“That sounds just like something Galen would say,” Melanie replied huffily. “I thought of all people, you would understand best. But if you have no interest in seeing an old wrong righted, I shall do it myself.” Standing, she indignantly retrieved her parasol and started for the door, just as the knocker sounded.

As the only room safe from the disturbance of brothers and sisters was the guest parlor just off the foyer, Arianne and Melanie had chosen it for their conversation. Now Melanie was trapped into greeting the new arrival as Arianne hurried to answer the door before the noisy horde above could descend to investigate the caller. When Lord Locke entered, Melanie’s eyes widened with surprise, but she picked up her skirts and prepared to depart again.

“I thought that might be your carriage. Don’t let me interrupt if you are having a private coze.” Galen lazily twirled his walking stick and held on to his hat as he observed the guilty expressions on the faces of both ladies. They were obviously up to something, but neither appeared very happy about it.

Struck dumb by his return after being certain that he would never wish to see her again, Arianne recovered enough to see that Melanie was her only protection from what promised to be another embarrassing encounter. She refused to allow Locke’s polished elegance to overwhelm her, although the golden blond of his hair in the sunlight put the gloomy parlor to shame.

Not meeting his inquiring gaze as it fastened on her, Arianne hastened to end the impasse. “Melanie has just arrived, my lord, but you are welcome to join us in tea, if you wish.
Or if you have come to see Father, he is out at the moment, but I will be happy to give him a message.”

Both Melanie and Galen regarded her with suspicion, but Arianne was beyond caring. Her only desire was to escape further embarrassment at the hands of this careless lord. Just as she thought she had succeeded, screams of delight echoed from above, and closing her eyes, Arianne cursed her brothers and their sharp eyes and waited for the avalanche to descend.