Artful Deceptions (3 page)

Still, he displayed no sign of distaste as he handed Arianne down from the carriage in front of the unprepossessing house that she called home. The fishmonger gawked at sight of the phaeton, and she could hear sashes being thrown open in windows all up and down the street, but there was naught to be done about it now. Taking a breath and throwing back her shoulders, she advanced upon the front door.

Inside could be heard cries of “Rainy’s back! Rainy’s back!” echoing in various keys from the top floor to the bottom, but that was only to be expected. Galen Locke was well aware she was not an only child. What he probably wasn’t aware of was the explosive energy about to be unleashed upon him. Undoubtedly Lord Locke would come of a household where children were kept behind closed doors or on tight reins with governesses to mind them. Arianne smiled slightly to herself as the door flew open without any need to touch it.

“Rainy! Can I ride in the gig? Can I? Please?” Without further hesitation the pleader pushed past the couple on the doorstep and flew down to offer carrots to the mettlesome thoroughbreds in the street.

As Lord Locke turned to put a halt to this danger from the freckled schoolgirl, another figure flew out the door on her heels without so much as a plea or a by-your-leave. Fortunately, Arianne was fast enough to catch this culprit by the collar and drag him back while calling over her shoulder to the other. “Lucinda, you come back here right this instant and apologize to Lord Locke. Such behavior is inexcusable.”

The girl offered up the last carrot and patted the nose of the nearest horse before throwing back her braid and glancing over her shoulder. Seeing that her sister meant what she said, she resignedly dragged her feet back to the entrance. “I never get to go anywhere, Rainy. Can’t I just pet them?”

By the time Arianne coaxed Lucinda into the house and unloosed David with an admonition to take his younger brothers back up the stairs where they belonged, the downstairs hall had taken on the appearance of a crowded street. A mobcapped maid clattered out of the back to shoo the children away, a low-slung dog with long black hair dangling in its eyes came over to sniff the intruder, and her mother appeared on the stairs to ascertain the cause of the commotion.

Upon being introduced to Lord Locke, Mrs. Richards smiled tentatively, whisked a ginger cat from the stairs before it could follow the dog, murmured an apology for the manners of her children, and disappeared into the nether regions of the house after the cries of the little urchins deprived of their treat.

Before Arianne could even suggest that they make a hasty retreat to the parlor, where she might bring him the painting, a door to the rear of the hall opened and she groaned in dismay. With a quick, beseeching look, she took Lord Locke’s hand and shook it firmly. “So kind of you to see me home, my lord. I will not impose on your time any longer. Convey my gratitude to Melanie, if you will.”

Dazed by their lavish reception and the equally abrupt departure of the small creatures inhabiting the household, Galen tried to maintain the calm equilibrium of a well-bred English gentleman. He had not forgotten his reason for being here, but Miss Richards’ rather direct hint indicated his curiosity was not to be satisfied immediately. Still, he didn’t intend to fall apart under attack like Boney’s armies at Waterloo. He, too, had seen the far door open, and Locke waited with the expectancy of a man about to meet his nemesis.

Fate had not assigned him a particularly imposing nemesis. The man emerging from the far room was tall, but in a stoop-shouldered manner that disguised his height. His hair had receded to a circle around the back of his head and above his ears, and what there was of it was disheveled and improperly cut. The spectacles perched on the end of his nose threatened to fall off when he straightened at the sight of the stranger in the hall, but it was apparently an expected occurrence, for he reached to catch the wire rim and tuck it into the pocket of a supremely disreputable and rumpled coat.

“Arianne, you’re home. I needed you to make a minor purchase for me today. Are the shops still open? No, of course they’re not. Excuse me, sir, have I had the pleasure of your acquaintance?” His tone did not change with any of his various comments or questions, but his open expression reflected curiosity and approval while it was focused on the visitor. But distracted by Arianne’s reply, he began hunting for something in his pockets and Lord Locke was momentarily forgotten.

“Father, this is Lord Locke, a friend of the Griffins. Lord Locke, my father. I apologize for your wild welcome, but the children are not accustomed to my being gone for any length of time. I’m sorry you had to come so far out of your way to bring me home. Perhaps we may meet again someday.”

The steely hint remained in her voice, but Galen was too intrigued to depart immediately. For years he had harbored a grudge against the critic who had dared to declare his Rubens a fraud, but he had never met the man. Now, meeting Ross Richards like this, with his anxious daughter at his side, he could find nothing of the coldly intellectual cynic he had expected to find.

Richards turned an engagingly conspiratorial smile to the silent young man. “She’s a tartar, no doubt, but I can’t do without her. Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord. Don’t let her throw you out if you’re not ready to go. I understand you have an eye for art. Would you be interested in seeing my collection?”

Arianne’s eyes rolled heavenward as she removed her bonnet, but far from being dismayed by her reaction, Galen merely admired the sight uncovered and decided Rubens’ ideal woman was not his. He rather enjoyed the combination of shadowed cheekbones and high-set brow. Somehow, they were extremely appropriate to this setting, although certainly not fashionable anywhere else.

“I would be delighted and honored, sir. Miss Richards?”

“I’ve heard Father’s lecture before. You’re on your own. It’s been a pleasure meeting you again.” Arianne dipped a curtsy that emphasized the hypocrisy of her words and took herself off toward the stairway whence the remainder of the household had disappeared, leaving Locke to his own defenses.

Richards was already wandering back down the hallway by the time Galen lost sight of Arianne’s slim figure in the dim recesses above. He hastened after his host in time to catch the last of his words.

“... good girl, but headstrong. That’s what comes of teaching them to use their minds, I suppose. Couldn’t do without her, mind you, but I do recollect a time when women were dainty young things who spoke only when spoken to. Not certain at all that we weren’t better off then.”

Never having given the subject a thought before, Galen wasn’t certain he was inclined to agree. Wit had its advantages, the least of which was to drive away boredom. Fencing with Miss Arianne Richards could turn out to be a delightful pastime.

* * * *

Rolling up the canvas and tucking it beneath her practical cloak, Arianne cursed the weather, cursed the arrogant man who was her reason for going out in this damp, and cursed her cousin for introducing him into her life again. Then, taking Puddles on his leash, she escaped the house, where the children were still droning over their lessons, and made her way out into the still-wet streets.

Melanie should have known when she summoned her that Arianne had no maid to accompany her along these city streets. Although St. James’s was the site of all the fashionable men’s clubs and Almack’s was only just around the corner, a lady risked life and reputation by venturing alone into this very male territory. Arianne knew the back streets that kept her away from the clubs and their nosy occupants, but Puddles was scarcely any protection should she be accosted along the way.

But surrounded by brothers and servants who cushioned her every step, Melanie would not realize that her cousin had no means of reaching Green Park without walking unaccompanied. It was no distance from where Arianne lived, and she had no difficulty traversing it, but she would appear the poor luckless cousin when she arrived at this fashionable gathering place on foot and with no maid in sight. Resolutely ignoring her sudden concern with appearance, Arianne turned to enter the elegant gates to the park.

The rain had stopped but the moisture-laden leaves still dripped continuously as she approached the assigned meeting place. Undoubtedly Melanie thought it highly dramatic to meet in secret for this uncovering of the hidden painting. Of course, Melanie would be arriving in a covered carriage with Galen to hold her parasol to keep her from the damp once she stepped out onto the paths. Arianne gritted her teeth and tried not to let her mood reduce her to the jealous smallness she felt at this moment. Life was what one made of it, not what one was given.

She gasped in surprise as a large male figure came around the shrubberies and nearly collided with her. A strong hand caught her elbow and balanced her, and she found herself staring up into Galen’s smiling face.

“I suppose one might say the disadvantage of my size is that I am forever bumping into things, but then, I am very good at catching them before they fall. My apologies, Miss Richards. Are you all right?”

The little dog on the leash barked once, sniffed Galen’s cuffs, then jumped excitedly to paw at his knee. Arianne winced as the once-immaculate buff breeches became marred with mud, but Lord Locke merely crouched to pat the dog and scratch behind its ears. Puddles wiggled in ecstasy and Galen glanced up quizzically at the dog’s frozen owner. “You know, I have a dog just like this, but he’s the most obnoxious piece of hound I ever hope to come across.”

“You have a dog like Puddles?” Since the animal in question was little more than a hank of hair and a bit of bone, Arianne found it exceedingly hard to believe that this large and impressive man would possess any such creature, or be willing to admit it.

Galen grinned and straightened. “Belonged to my mother, but he kept biting my father’s ankle and chewing his boots, so they banished the beast to London and my tender care. The animal does nothing but tear around the house barking his fool head off at every sight and sound until the servants would gladly pitch him out the door. Don’t know what’s the matter with the fellow.”

By this time Melanie and her maid had joined them, and she was listening with great interest to this exchange. Arianne did her best to ignore the elegance of her cousin’s silk pelisse and matching parasol as she hovered at Locke’s elbow, but she did not seem able to control her tongue. With a sharpness she never intended, she replied, “A male dog? If you don’t know what’s the matter with him, then I’m not the one to tell you.” With a slight nod, Arianne turned to greet her cousin.

Locke’s look of astonishment and sudden roar of laughter brought a puzzled frown to Melanie’s pretty features, but at the sight of the smile tugging at Arianne’s mouth, she decided to smile too. “I am very glad to know that you and Galen are getting along so well, although I do wish you would explain to me what was so funny.”

Locke choked, threw a pleading look to Arianne, and lifted his hands in abstention. In that moment Arianne almost liked him, and for her cousin’s sake she vowed to do so. Pulling Puddles on a tighter leash so he could do no more damage to his lordship’s trousers, she deftly avoided explanations. “We were merely discussing the habits of pets. I’m afraid Puddles has made rather a nuisance of herself.”

“On the contrary, I might rather borrow Puddles for a while, if it means peace in the household. What are your feelings on the matter of puppies, Miss Richards?”

He was being scandalous, but since his talk went well above Melanie’s head, Arianne could only hide the twitch of her lips and appear to frown disapprovingly. Locke’s grin grew wider, and she knew she had hidden nothing. “My view of puppies has nothing to say on the matter. Puddles returns with me. You must do your own procuring. Did you wish to see the painting or did we come here merely to exchange pleasantries?”

Galen was choking on laughter again, but Melanie eagerly stepped in to fill the gap. “Oh, yes, where is it? I’m dying to see what you’ve found.”

Melanie glanced around for some sign of the maid or servant who must be carrying the portrait, then realized the enormity of her error as Arianne removed a slender roll from beneath her cloak. Flushing in the sudden realization that she had forced her cousin to walk out unattended, Melanie grew quiet and took Puddles’ leash without comment as Arianne unrolled the canvas.

Galen removed the unwieldy canvas from her hands to study it more closely, his gray eyes growing suddenly serious and intent as he absorbed the subject, the quality of the work and found the telltale signs that made it unmistakably a Lawrence. He held it out for Melanie’s perusal, and after her enthralled exclamations, gently rolled the canvas again.

“You’re quite right, Miss Richards. The work is undoubtedly an early Lawrence, but I cannot tell you how much it might be worth. I should think the subject of the painting would be most likely to pay the best price. Do you have any idea who it might be?”

Arianne shook her head. “It must have been done before my mother’s, and that was done in Bristol. I very much suspect the setting is Wales, the woman has that sort of coloring. She and the child appear well-dressed, but it is doubtful that anyone from that background would be found here in London, and I have no means of going west to find them. I am well aware that the market for art is not great, particularly for contemporary art, but I do not need a great deal. My mother and I are very good at managing money. We can make a small amount go a long way.”

Locke could tell from the braid on the let-down hem of her cloak how they managed their money, but he hid his frown. It was no business of his that Richards sat on a fortune in artwork while his family went clothed in the next best thing to rags. The market for art had only grown in these last years since Boney’s war had emptied the coffers of Europe. Very few people as yet had an appreciation for the treasures on their walls. Richards’ collection might someday provide a valuable inheritance for his young children, but in today’s world it would merely put food on the table. He turned his attention to the problem at hand.