Artful Deceptions (14 page)

Before any confrontations could occur over the direction of the carriages, a dust-coated rider galloped into the inn yard as the ladies departed the inn. Arianne hesitated on the doorstep, finding something familiar in the rider’s form, but Melanie was more intent on having her way and ignored the new arrival in favor of commandeering her own vehicle.

Not having any idea why she felt so irritated with her cousin and Lord Locke, Arianne remained where she was until she had identified the rider, then gave an exclamation of surprise and hurried in his direction as he pulled his mount to a halt and swung down.

“Evan! What is it? Has something happened to bring you here at this hour?” Although she spoke low and only as she approached Melanie’s brother, the others noted her direction and finally gave up their war to discover the new arrival.

Galen caught Melanie’s arm and they arrived together just in time to hear Evan’s greeting. “Everything will be fine once we get you back to town. I’m glad you found her, Locke”—Evan turned to the couple and gave his sister a look that spoke of a lesson to follow—”but I thought you might need some support when it came time to persuade her back to town.”

“I’m not a child, Evan. I see no reason why I cannot go visiting without all this pother. Now that Arianne’s here, she can accompany me.
We will have a lovely time of it.”

Evan pulled off his gloves and wiped his gritty brow with the back of his hand while glaring at his sister. “You’ve become spoiled, brat. Arianne cannot go with you, and that’s an end of it. I’ve come to make certain she goes directly home. Uncle Ross is pacing the floors. Aunt Anne is ill, and Arianne is needed at home. I do hope you’re happy with what your rashness has created.”

Melanie paled more at the sight of Arianne’s stricken face than at her brother’s words. Grabbing her cousin’s hand, she urged her toward the waiting carriage. “We will go at once. Evan, you’ve sent for a physician, have you not?” she asked over her shoulder as they started toward the coach yard.

At her brother’s curt nod, she lifted her heavy traveling skirt and hurried after Arianne.

Locke glanced after the two women, then back to Evan. “I should never have brought Miss Richards with me, but she was insistent on saving Melanie’s reputation. With reason, apparently, but I am sorry it turned out this way for her.
Is there aught I can do?”

“From what I understand, very little, unless you have the power to persuade Richards to send his family to the country. My home is always open to them, but he has already called me an arrogant young pup and informed me in no uncertain terms that he didn’t have to take charity from Shelce’s get. My uncle holds a grudge well.”

Not wanting to inquire into the family argument that had created this division, Locke nodded toward his waiting phaeton. “I will follow them into town and make certain Miss Richards is returned home promptly. You look as if you could use a bit of a rest first.”

Evan caught Locke’s arm before he could make his escape. “As far as anyone is aware, Arianne has been with Melanie all along. I take it you have not come off on the best of terms with my sister.”

“She has refused me. I can only be grateful for Melanie’s sake that Miss Richards insisted on lending propriety to our encounter.” With a wry grin, Galen placed his hat on his head. “Next time, I think I shall consult your cousin before making a proposal. She seems to see far more clearly than I.”

The carriage pulled away with only one farewell wave from the window. Evan lifted his own hand in acknowledgment, then turned toward the inn as the phaeton rattled off after the coach.

Melanie was obviously still angry with him for ending her adventure, but even in adversity, their cousin had the presence of mind to recognize his effort on her part. Although she had said not a word, as was her way, that single waving hand spoke for her. She had not forgotten him, as might have been expected under the pressure of the news he had brought; she merely had nothing to say that would make matters better.

A woman like that was worth a diamond mine. Evan sincerely hoped that Rhys appreciated that fact.

Chapter Eleven

“There you are! Thank goodness. Your mother has been asking for you. I don’t know what made you go gallivanting off like that. It’s not like you, Arianne. Hurry on upstairs, now. I’m certain everything will be fine now that you are here. I will see Lord Locke off and thank him for bringing you promptly home.”

Ross Richards’ dark eyes lacked their natural sparkle as he sent his daughter to the upper regions of the house. He ran a tired hand over the few sparse hairs of his head and turned his gangly frame in the direction of the elegantly tailored young lord waiting in the doorway, hat in hand. Closer inspection revealed the young man seemed somewhat travel-stained and weary, but his expression was only one of concern as he watched Arianne make a hasty curtsy and rush off for the stairs.

“I’ve heard young Griffin’s explanation of this, and I don’t believe a word of it. He may think me a doddering fool, but I’ve not yet reached my dotage. If you have a moment, perhaps you would be so kind as to explain why my daughter was gone all night when she has never done such a thing before.”

Galen turned his attention back to the man who had publicly declared his highly prized Rubens a fraud, but again, he saw nothing of the malicious in the man. His appearance was no more than of a doting father worried for his family, and Galen was incapable of holding a grudge, even if Evan was right and Arianne’s father held one exceedingly well.

“I believe Miss Richards may explain better than I. It is a family affair, I believe, but she was only acting in Lady Melanie’s best interests.” Galen hedged his explanation as well as he was able, unwilling to immerse Arianne in more trouble than there already was. “I understand the two of them are very close.”

Richards glared at his guest. “You are the one who came for her and you are the one who brought her back. My daughter is a good girl. Just because she does not travel in your exalted circles does not mean she is to be treated like a lightskirt. You will have to do better than that.”

Mildly annoyed by his host’s belligerence, Galen retained his cool aplomb. “I am acting on Evan Griffin’s behest. You may take the matter up with him. I have all due respect for your daughter, but I question your concern when the one thing you might do to alleviate her fears and repair her mother’s health is to accept Griffin’s hospitality.”

Galen knew he was being rude and it was completely out of character for him, but for Arianne’s sake he could not hold his tongue. By the time they had returned to London, she had been tense and white-faced, and some of her anguish had rubbed off on him.

“Damme if you aren’t as insolent as he is!” Far from appearing angry, the older man turned away, his face gray with worry as he approached the spectacular mythological landscape gracing the place of honor over the rather simple mantel. “You’re a collector. What would you give me for this Titian? My grandfather brought it home from his Grand Tour. The theme isn’t appreciated much these days, but there is no denying its greatness.”

Shocked, Galen stared at the brilliantly colored painting of chariots and gods and briefly wondered if his own poor attempts at collecting would ever contain works of such greatness. The piece belonged in a museum, but no museum could afford its price, even on the current market. But the shock came from Richards’ question. Did he truly mean to sell one of the jewels of his collection?

“I would give whatever it takes to own such a piece, sir,” Locke answered evenly, although he was still shaken by the offer. He knew how the question hurt the man, but he also knew what it would mean to Arianne and her family. He could almost feel Richards’ pain, and he had no desire to be the cause of such anguish.

Of course, he wasn’t certain how Miss Richards would feel if she knew it was his money that sent them to Bath. Knowing something of Arianne’s pride, Locke didn’t expect the gesture to be appreciated.

As if the question had never been asked or answered, Ross stood staring at the painting. “My sister was the twins’ and Melanie’s mother, you know. It broke her heart that the Earl of Shelce never accepted her as a satisfactory wife for his heir. The estrangement between father and son was no doubt caused as much by other factors as by her marriage, but she took it personally.

“George was a dreamer, much like Melanie, as a matter of fact. The twins take after their grandfather, hard-headed young devils. But George loved my sister, I’ll give him that, and they were happy while they lived. I don’t know why Shelce couldn’t understand that. It’s not as if Richards’ blood was tainted. We can trace our ancestors back as far as he; there just aren’t many titles attached to the name. We’re not the type to aspire to power, I suppose.”

Galen listened patiently to the rambling monologue. He had vaguely understood the relationship between the two families, but it became clearer now, and the family feud was more obvious. Richards might not aspire to power, but he had all the pride of the Earl of Shelce. Shelce might not consider a Richards good enough to marry into the Griffin family, but Ross obviously thought his sister too good to live with such snobbery. Perhaps the bad feelings might ultimately have been resolved had the two main characters lived to heal the breach, but the death of Melanie’s mother at an early age had sealed the argument forever.

As if following the trail of Locke’s thoughts, Richards continued, “Shelce still blames my sister for George’s death, as if she, dead and in her grave, would have wished her husband to fall into such a decline that he ended up killing himself with drink. Shelce’s an ass. His son would never have been a copy of him; dreamers never are.

“It’s too late to let bygones be bygones,” the older man said with a sigh. “Shelce has his heir in his grandson now, but the past will never be forgotten. My nephews are too much like him to understand, but Melanie, now, Melanie needs someone to look after her, just as George did. My sister ain’t there to do it, and I can’t, but Arianne does her best. But sometimes a man has to look out for his own first. I’ll not have my daughter hurt at the expense of her cousin.”

Astounded by this tack, Galen floundered against the prevailing current, then righted himself with effort. “I beg your pardon, sir, but your nephew has your daughter’s protection in mind as well as Melanie’s. I do not know the earl well, but I know Evan and Gordon are gentlemen you can trust. If you wish to call me to account for Miss Richards’ whereabouts last evening, I wish you would consult with your nephews first.”

Ross’s expression was bleak as he turned to regard Locke. “I need only consult Arianne. She will tell me the truth. As much as I love my wife, I don’t mean to sell my daughter in her behalf. Consult your men of business and make me an offer on the painting. I think perhaps the entire family would benefit from country air.”

Thus dismissed, Galen made a polite bow and escaped. Richards was even more eccentric than he had been led to believe. Or else far more intelligent than the usual run of men. The man could not possibly know all that had transpired these last hours. Perhaps he had just been baiting a hook to see what came after it. It very much seemed as if he had been hoping for an offer for Arianne.

The more he thought about it, the more certain Galen became of it. Richards had emphasized the family lineage, made it known that they were firmly connected with the Earl of Shelce—however estranged—and indicated that he knew Arianne might protect Melanie to the extent of harming her own reputation. But he had backed off at the point of forcing the issue. Perhaps Richards had thought there was an attachment between Arianne and himself. Had his calling with Melanie these last few weeks given that impression? Or had Arianne said something to that effect? Surely not. It was deuced odd.

But it made him recognize his behavior as it appeared in the eyes of others. Galen cursed as he reached his chambers and flung off his clothing, much to his valet’s dismay. He had called on Arianne more than once in these past weeks. His carriage would be noticeable for its frequency in a neighborhood like that. Even though Melanie was almost always with them, he had been seen in public places with Arianne alone at his side.

When Rhys had been along, the matter would not have been much remarked upon, but this past week Rhys had not been there, and still he had called. That would have been sufficient to set tongues to wagging. The fact that Galen was wealthy and titled and Arianne lived modestly, outside of the
ton,
would put the worst possible construction on the matter.

He would have to speak to Evan. He wished Gordon were here. Evan was inclined to act without thinking, and his military training had little patience with the delicacy of social innuendos. Gordon would better understand the situation. But Gordon preferred the country to London, and was more enamored with his position of running his grandfather’s estate than the social whirl of the
ton.
Galen envied him his position in the earl’s trust, but that did not make it any easier to decide what to do.

Bathed and freshly attired, Galen set out for the Griffin town house. Had his own father seen fit to release some of his duties to his son, perhaps he could have found more challenging things to do than chase after missing portraits and flighty maidens. But the Earl of Deward considered his son to be as useless an ornament as his wife, and Galen did his best to live up to that opinion. Shining his beaver hat on his coat sleeve, he arrived at the Griffins’ in his more formal landau rather than the rakish phaeton. It wouldn’t do to give the appearance of frivolity on this occasion. Idle he might be, but fool he was not.

He twirled his walking stick as he sauntered up the steps, knowing the door would open without knocking should he take his time. As expected, a footman swung the lofty panels back just as he reached the top, and Locke nodded his gratitude. He had been in and out of this house enough to have lavished more than a generous share of the servants’ wages in gratuities, and they showed their appreciation with regularity.