Chapter 17
YOURE FINALLY BACK, Julia said, walking into Fitzs dressing room without knocking shortly after seven. I need you to change your plans, darling. Kemal has deserted me.
You
could
knock, Mother, Fitz drawled, taking his shirt from Darby and waving him out.
Pshaw! As if I havent seen you half-naked before. Dropping into a chair in a swish of green silk skirts, the duchess smiled at her son, dressed only in trousers. I wont require your escort for long, darling. An hour or so early in the evening. Kemal had promised to take me to the Turner exhibit, but then some tiresome diplomatic crisis came up. She waved her hand dismissively. In any case, Im off to Bunnys dinner afterwarddont scowl . . . Im not asking you to accompany me to that event. So you see its nothing more than a little slice of your time this evening. That wont be so bad, will it? she cheerfully finished.
It wont be bad at all, Fitz said, sliding one arm into a shirtsleeve. Im going anyway.
With whom? Do I know her? Julia rightly assumed he was escorting a woman.
No. Shes one of Leightons models. Slipping the shirt over his head, he began fastening the studs on the shirtfront.
Well, I shant ruin her evening for long.
Fitz smiled. You wont ruin her evening at all, Mother. Shell be thrilled to be seen in your company.
How sweet. The duchess raised her brows. Does she speak the Queens English?
Yes, Mother. She speaks very well and has excellent manners. Her father is a notable surgeon.
And yet she takes her clothes off for Leighton.
For art, Mother. Theres a difference, Im told, he drolly added.
Come to think of it, Constance Radford has taken her clothes off in public for much less reason.
On more than one occasion, Fitz sardonically noted.
Indeed, Julia agreed. And you neednt worry, I shall be ever so polite to your little model.
I wasnt worried. He began tucking his shirt into his trousers.
Because Im always cordial to your lady friends, Julia said with a twinkle in her eye.
He looked up. As I am to Kemal, Mother.
She came to her feet, not about to rehash a discussion they had agreed to disagree on long ago. What time is the carriage coming round?
Half past seven. Flora wanted to see the watercolors in natural light.
Then I must hurry, Julia declared, moving toward the door.
If you like, we could come back for you.
No, no, I can dress in a flash. She opened the door. Ill be downstairs at half past.
Darby reentered the room as the duchess exited and took Fitzs coat from the armoire. I expect well see you in the mornin, he said, waiting while Fitz slid his white, embroidered suspenders over his shoulders.
I assume so.
Some of your Turners are on display tonight as I recall.
Three or four. The Swiss landscapes.
It looks to be a right fine evenin to be out. Positively balmy it is.
A perfect night for a carriage ride with the top down.
Would you be wantin some champagne to take along?
Flora has friends coming over to her place in Chelsea. I think she already ordered what she needed.
Lady Buckley rung up this afternoon, Stanley said. Did you hear?
He told me. After which Fitz had given Stanley instructions to have a note and a small gift delivered, with his regrets, to Miss Baldwin at the Savoy.
Darby didnt inquire further; hed done his duty. From Fitzs reply it appeared he wasnt planning on responding to Clarissas call. During the remaining time it took for Fitz to dress for the evening, the men spoke instead of their upcoming hunting trip.
At seven twenty-five Fitz descended the main staircase. He was waiting in the entrance hall when his mother arrived breathless and flushed fifteen minutes later.
Sorry, darling. Clara had trouble with my hair.
Its not a problem. He smiled as he held out his arm for his mother. We havent gone out together for months. Im looking forward to the evening.
She patted his arm. Youre such a sweet boy.
It must be because I take after you, he said with a grin.
She chuckled. Im sure thats the case.
ROSALIND WAS HARRIED as well in her dressing, but not because her maid was having trouble with her hair. First, she didnt have a maid, and second, her hair was piled on top of her head in its usual casual disarray. What
had
disrupted her schedule was a customer arriving as the store was closing.
Mrs. Greening was an excellent client so Rosalind couldnt simply shoo her away much as she would have liked to. Instead, shed been obliged to cater to the dithering womans many whims until shed finally selected the books she wanted for her trip to the seashore.
Then when shed arrived upstairs, shed been faced with a bedroom awash in soiled towels, not to mention the tie and underwear Fitz had left behind. The towels had gone in the laundry basket, the tie and underwear in the trash, although she hadnt had time to change the sheets on the bed. Now shed have to look at the scene of her trist on her return when she would have much preferred forgetting everything that had happened last night.
Fortunately, Rosalinds saffron silk was a Grecian-style silk muslin that was simple to don. She had but to drape it around her body, fasten the shoulders with the pretty little enameled brooches Glynis had made, tie the sumptuous purple silk sash around her waist, and her toilette was complete.
But she kept one eye on the time as she dressed, fretting at the fast-moving minute hand. Sofia and Arthur were coming to fetch her at seven and she didnt want to be tardy.
The clock was striking seven when she heard Sofias hallo drift up the stairs.
Im ready! she cried out, slipping her feet into gold leather Grecian sandals Glynnis had sent over along with the gown. Glynnis was both a friend and an artist who displayed her handmade designs in Rosalinds gallery; the gown and slippers had been a thank-you gift.
Catching sight of her flushed face in a mirror as she dashed through the parlor, Rosalind vowed to sit quietly in the hansom cab on the way to the exhibit and hopefully appear less like a day laborer in from the fields by the time they reached the National Gallery.
Chapter 18
FITZ WAS FACING away from the door so he didnt see Rosalind when she walked into the exhibit. Julia did, but knowing Fitz wouldnt appreciate her interference, she turned her attention back to her companions. Inspired by Turners glowing watercolors of Venice, Flora had been going on at some length on the topic of her familys recent visit there.
The Turner exhibit was mounted in the West Room of the National Gallery where many of Turners paintings were permanently on display. It was a modest-size space, and crowded. In fact, it was a crush.
Under the circumstances, there was every possibility that Fitz and Rosalind wouldnt encounter each other. Had not some young actress swoonedwhether genuinely or for publicity
and
had not the throng opened up around her, their eyes would not have met across the room.
Rosalind immediately turned away.
Fitzs nostrils flared.
Infuriating woman
. But as Rosalind disappeared into the crowd, he smoothly replied to a query Flora had just posed. The first time I saw Turners work was in Bristol. Remember, Mother, Paget was selling his uncles estate? That small Thames River scene was my first major purchase as a youth.
As if youre old now, darling, Flora purred, smiling up at him. Youre in your absolute prime . . .
Indeed, Fitz, darling, his mother agreed, looking amused. You cant be old because then Id be old.
And you arent at all, Your Grace, Flora gushed. You dont look a day over forty.
Julia repressed a smile. Thank you, my dear. How very sweet of you. Isnt Miss Nesbit the dearest girl? She shot Fitz a look of complete innocence.
She certainly is, he agreed, hoping his mother would behave.
Having been praised for her beauty from the cradle, Flora accepted the compliments not only as accurate and credible but also as her due. And youre the most
wonderful
man I know, she said, fawning and fulsome, squeezing Fitzs arm. Turning to Julia, she added with a sugary smile, Fitz is a credit to your motherly gifts, Your Grace.
Would anyone like a glass of sherry? Fitz interposed, hoping to curtail the unctuous flattery. I know I would.
Julia met her sons gaze. I dont suppose they have brandy.
Im sure they do. He dipped his head to Flora. And you, Miss Nesbit?
A sherry would be excellent.
Fitz! Fitz! Over here! Over
here
!
Fitz inwardly groaned, the voice familiar. Glancing in the direction of the cry, he spotted Clarissa pushing her way through the crowd.
Flora scowled.
The duchess smiled faintly. Two aggressive females in pursuit of one man
along with
a curious audience. It should be an interesting evening.
Moments later Clarissa arrived, flushed and smiling. Ignoring the women, she smiled at Fitz and breathlessly exclaimed, How absolutely
delicious
to find you, darling, because Im quite
alone
tonight! Her emphasis on the word
alone
was accompanied by a flirtatious wink. Lord Buckley is off again on some dreadful hunting trip. I declare, men are never content unless theyre shooting something. Having made her availability abundantly clear, she uttered a soft little sigh and added fervently, Dont you just
adore
Turners work? I wouldnt have missed this exhibit for the world.
Such gross insincerity elicited a moment of stunned silence.
Flora was looking daggers at her rival.
Fitz was wondering how best to negotiate the dangerous waters.
Knowing full well her duty as a mother, Julia stepped into the breach. Fitz, darling, why dont you get us those sherries? Ill entertain the ladies while youre gone.
Fitz shot his mother a grateful look.
Now dont forget my brandy, she directed and waved him off. Having lived her entire life in the modish world where insincerity was an art form, Julia overlooked the palpable animus between the two women and offered Clarissa a gracious smile. My dear Clarissa, you must hear about Miss Nesbits delightful family trip to Venice. The duchess turned her bright smile on Flora. My dear, explain to Lady Buckley how your father happened to acquire his amazing collection of medical instruments in that little shop near the Rialto.
If not for the din from the crowd, it might have been possible to hear the ladies gnash their teeth.
Now, I forget, Julia prompted. Did your father discover the origin of that very curious ancient scalpel was Arabia or Egypt?
Egypt, Flora muttered, clearly not in the mood for conversation.
Such an exotic locale! Julia said enthusiastically. The pyramids at twilight are quite breathtaking. Everyone says it of course, but its absolutely true! Werent you with Bunnys party in Egypt last year, Clarissa dear?
While his mother was offering him momentary deliverance from what could turn into a battle royal, Fitz escaped downstairs where a bar was always available at events such as this. In no great hurry to return to the volatile situation upstairsClarissa a loose canon under the best of conditions, the current ones clearly challenginghe ordered two large brandies.
Anesthesia, as it were, for the coming battle.
And perhaps to numb his brain as well. He was thinking too much about his brief glimpse of Mrs. St. Vincent. Which was profoundly useless.
So it was only natural he would have preferred not seeing Arthur Godwin come up to the bar a few minutes later. He was trying to forget last night, not be reminded of the ladys tempestuous passions.
After exchanging greetings and a few polite words about the exhibit, Godwin ordered drinkstwo sherries and a whiskey. Fitz shouldnt have been mindful of the order, nor should he have turned and watched Godwin walk away. It was simple curiosity, he rationalized, nothing more.
Certainly, there was no earthly reason to follow the art critic.
There was even less reason for his pulse to spike when he saw to whom Godwin brought the sherries. There she was. He could see her through the doorway of the basement study room where Turner sketches were stored. Sofia was with her, and both women smiled as Godwin offered them the drinks.
He should have taken serious warning at the jolt of raw lust jarring his nerve endings. Instead, he was contemplating how easily he could undress Mrs. St. Vincent. All he had to do was unclasp the brooches at her shoulders, unwind the sash at her waist, and her gown would drop away.
She didnt wear corsets, the fact obvious for all to see.
It would take less than a minute to divest her of her underclothes, and voila! Shed be available. And after last night, her willingness was not in question.
Not that reason didnt immediately argue its case.
How can you even think about fucking her when youre arranging her destruction? Have you no decency? No scruple or conscience?
Libidinous urges quickly countered.
She can say no if she doesnt want sex. Consider, too, the ninety thousand you might lose. If you keep her away from her store tonight, Hutchinsons men will have time to search the premises.
Moral issues aside, he was beset by a chafing resentment that the mere sight of her gave rise to an ungovernable need to mount her. He begrudged his urgent compulsion; in the past women had always been a pleasure but never an obsession.
And now Mrs. St. Vincent was threatening his laissez-faire existence.
A sensible man would forget hed seen her, get the drinks for the women, and go back upstairs, his voice of reason advised. Furthermore, only a brute and a bounder would dally with a lady while in the act of ruining her.
A practical man at heart, Fitz ultimately came to his senses, turned away, and retraced his steps to the bar. Moments later, he was ascending the stairs, a flunkey following behind with a tray of drinks.
For the next half hour, Fitz parried the barbs flying fast and furious between Flora and Clarissaa common enough situation for a man much sought after by women. In fact, by dint of considerable experience, his skills at accommodating overwrought females were finely honed. It also helped that he drank several more brandiesthe flunkey had orders to keep his glass filled. When his mother decided to leave and join her friends, he was able to casually wave her off compliments of considerable brandy.
At this point, with the liquor warming his blood, he was pondering the merits of a ménage ŕ trois since neither woman seemed willing to cede the field to her rival. He was actually making such an offer when Rosalind walked back into his line of vision and his voice died away.
The subdued lighting or perhaps the dark paneled walls exaggerated the gleaming copper of her hair and the brilliant saffron of her gown. Her voluptuous form beneath the draped silk brought to mind paintings of a mythical Arcadia with enchantresses disposed in various provocative poses. Not that Rosalind was posing at the moment; rather, she was moving cautiously through the crowd, trying to keep her sherry from being jostled. And damned if Harry Moore wasnt following in her wakeeyeing her like the lecher he was. If youll excuse me, Fitz murmured, hot with jealousy, every man she passed turning to stare as well. Ill be back in a minute.
Where are you going? Flora sharply quizzed.
Ill go with you, Clarissa said, more practiced and cunning.
No, dont. Blunt as a hammer.
His curt retort gave even Clarissa pause.
Indifferent to the ladies sullen gazes, he strode away.
Scanning the crowd in the direction Rosalind had taken, Fitz searched for a glimmer of her auburn hair or Harrys blond locks. Not that he was entirely sure what hed do after he found her or Harry. The room was awash with other friends and acquaintances as well, not to mention his mother. Mrs. St. Vincent would likely discourage his advances. Numerous difficulties existed to complicate the situation.
None of which halted his swift advance.
Ah, there.
He spied the group in a far corner. Fortunately, they were well away from Flora and Clarissa. Although, driven by brute impulse, he wouldnt have cared if they werent.
He smiled faintly.
Christ, he might have been a grass green youth so irrational was his behavior. Or more like a barbarian, he decided, recognizing what he was about to do. Fuck Harryhe was going to drag her off whether she liked it or not.
His manner was smoothly urbane when he greeted the small group. Good evening. He bowed gracefully. Are you enjoying the show?
Yes, indeed. Sofia smiled. What a pleasant surprise.
Arthur Godwin nodded. Good evening again, Your Grace.
Rosalind shot a look at Arthur, then dipped her head in Fitzs direction, her expression chill.
Youre a long way from the racetrack, Harry, Fitz drawled.
Didnt know you were an art lover, Fitz.
Im here with my mother, but I seem to have lost her, Fitz blandly noted, his gaze turning to Rosalind.
He knows about his mothers visit to my shop.
She refused to rise to the bait, especially after having watched him being fawned over by two beautiful blonde women who could have been a matched pair.
Just like him
, she pettishly thought.
Pretty, flighty blondes without a thought in their heads beyond vying for his favors.
Turners work is magnificent, isnt it? Sofia interposed, hoping to avoid a brawl between the two men or possibly between Fitz and Rosalind, who was scowling grimly. The colors, the atmosphere, the sheer technical proficiency. It quite takes your breath away.
Lot of messy paint if you ask me; cant make out whether its a tree or boat over there. But the company more than makes up for the rubbishy art, Harry murmured, smiling at Rosalind.
The mans a genius, Harry, Fitz muttered.
Not in my book. Stubbsnow theres a genius. Could paint a horse so real you could touch it.
Dont you have somewhere to go? Fitzs blunt, contentious words matched the scowl on his face.
Lord Moore is entitled to his opinion, Groveland. Art is perception; no more, no less, Rosalind said, offering Harry a charming smile.
The lady agrees with me, Fitz, Harry gloated, still rankled over having lost Clarissa to Fitz not long ago. Dont you think your mothers missing you?
She isnt, but I left Clarissa by the stairs. Buckleys shooting again, he cooly added.
Is that a fact.
Yes it is. Shes with Flora. You remember her, dont you? Flora had come to a masquerade as Springtime several months ago and her costume had left little to the imagination.
If youll excuse me, ladies, gentlemen. Harry made his bows. I believe I see my brother in the crowd.
Are you pimping now? Rosalind snapped as Harry made a hasty exit.
Rosalind, for heavens sake! Sofia exclaimed.
You would have found Harry a boor, Fitz softly said, as if Sofia hadnt spoken, his gaze for Rosalind alone.
Thats not for you to decide, Rosalind testily replied.
Forgive me. Would you like me to call him back?
And if I said yes?
A muscle in his jaw clenched, his gaze drifted from her eyes to her lush cleavage on display in the deep vee of her gown, and he said, silky smooth, If that were the case, naturally Id be happy to
accommodate
you in any way whatsoever.
For Gods sake, Groveland, Rosalind snapped, her temper cracking under his brazen stare and the insinuation in his words that had nothing to do with Harry Moore. Youd think youd never seen breasts before! How dare he strip her with his eyes in full view of the world; how dare he send Moore away!
Fitz looked up, his smile insolent. I was admiring your gown.
She glared at him. Libertine.