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‘‘He’d inherit the title and any entailed property. But Lincolnshire could will everything else to anyone he wanted.’’
‘‘Yes, he could, Mr. Delaney. But—’’
‘‘Sean.’’
‘‘I beg your pardon?’’
‘‘My name is Sean. And I’m thinking we should have leave to call each other by our given names.’’
He already called her Corinna in his head. He’d thought of her as Corinna ever since he’d heard her name called out in the British Museum. And not being accustomed to the company of the peerage, he was likely to forget to add the
Lady
.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ she said slowly. ‘‘That seems rather . . . intimate.’’
‘‘You’re the only one who knows my secret,’’ he pointed out. ‘‘That’s a rather intimate thing, don’t you think? And we’ve kissed.’’
A dreamy look crossed her face. A look that doubled the speed of his pulse.
‘‘Not that that’s happening again,’’ he quickly added, thinking maybe they’d be better off not using first names after all.
‘‘All right,’’ she said. ‘‘Now where were we . . . Sean?’’ She paused, looking dreamy again. ‘‘Oh, yes. You’d said that should Lord Lincolnshire learn the truth, he would be able to will everything but his title to anyone he wanted. But at what cost? He’d be unhappy and disillusioned the rest of his days, and once he’s gone, will it really matter whether Mr. Hamilton does or doesn’t inherit? Lord Lincolnshire deserves happiness,’’ she concluded with conviction. ‘‘That is the deciding factor.’’
She had a point. A lot of points, actually. But Lincolnshire’s happiness wasn’t the only consideration. ‘‘He’s going to find out regardless. I’m not an artist, and I seem to keep proving that, over and over. The earl may be physically deteriorating, but his mind is sharp as a knife. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes I cannot possibly be an accomplished landscapist, which means I cannot possibly be his nephew. How will he feel then? Wouldn’t it be better for me to admit the truth than for him to discover it himself?’’
‘‘
I’m
an artist. I can cover for you. I can help you keep up the masquerade.’’
‘‘You’re not around enough to do that.’’
‘‘I can
be
around enough. I’ll visit Lord Lincolnshire every day. I’ll keep close. You won’t mind that, will you?’’
Sure, he wouldn’t mind. He
liked
torturing himself,
lived
to spend hours in her presence, bunching his fists to keep from touching her.
She licked her spoon again, an act so innocently sensuous, it took everything he had not to kiss her on the spot.
He grabbed the spoon instead. ‘‘I won’t mind,’’ he muttered, only adding to his legion of lies.

 

Chapter Fifteen
TEA BUNS
Mix a lot of Flower with some Sugar and a little Salt in a bowl, then put in Egges, Butter, halfe a cup of Milk and a measure of Yeast to make a thick dough. Allow to rise, then flatten and make rounde buns and allow to rise again before you bake.
 
A most genteel addition to afternoon tea, these buns encourage serenity.
—Georgiana Chase, Countess of Greystone, 1806
 
Yesterday’s discovery that John Hamilton was really Sean Delaney—well, that and constantly reliving the kiss—had kept Corinna too distracted to take notice of the calendar. But today she’d realized it was May. The second of May, to be precise. The reception was on the fourteenth, and her painting was due on the nineteenth.
It usually took her at least two weeks to complete a painting. And for this one, she had yet to choose a subject.
Griffin had been gone a day longer than he’d said he would, yet with all the peace and quiet, she still wasn’t making progress. The thought of that had kept her mind buzzing the entire afternoon at Juliana’s home, where everyone had assembled in Stafford House’s beautiful Palm Room to pen the invitations to the reception Lady A was planning to introduce Corinna to the art world.
All of Corinna’s female relations had come, and people related to her relations, too. Alexandra and Juliana, and their three cousins, Rachael, Claire, and Elizabeth. A hugely pregnant Aunt Frances. Lady Avonleigh, of course, and her two sisters, Lady Balmforth and Lady Cavanaugh, who was also Juliana’s mother-in-law.
It was touching. Corinna had never considered herself the sentimental type, but the thought of them all helping her made her throat feel tight.
‘‘It was so kind of you all to come,’’ Lady A said now as she rose to fetch her pelisse. ‘‘I was dreading writing these invitations, but with all the help, we finished in no time.’’
Juliana piled the leftover tea buns she’d served into a basket. ‘‘Have you need of any more assistance, Lady Avonleigh? With anything else at all?’’
‘‘Just encourage everyone to attend, please, all of you. Royal Academicians in particular, but anyone else influential as well. You all know the wording for the invitations now, so feel free to write out more should you think of anyone else who might be able to further Corinna’s career. Above all, we must make certain the committee members all attend.’’ Buttoning the pelisse, she turned to Corinna. ‘‘I am sure John Hamilton will accept, as he’s your personal acquaintance—’’
‘‘I wouldn’t call him that,’’ Corinna interrupted, suddenly nervous.
‘‘You’ve danced together, my dear.’’
‘‘He’s a very busy man.’’ Sean couldn’t attend the reception—the Academy members would surely expose him as a fraud. ‘‘And you know he doesn’t like to appear in public.’’
‘‘Now that he’s inheriting Lord Lincolnshire’s title, I am certain that will change. Do not fret, my dear; he shall attend.’’ Lady A leaned closer and kissed Corinna’s cheek, enveloping her in a cloud of gardenia and camphorscent. ‘‘Should you run into the man, you might encourage him to see that the other committee members accept as well.’’
Lady A certainly seemed more confident than Corinna felt. ‘‘I don’t know. . . .’’
Shrugging into her own light pelisse, Rachael paused. ‘‘Are you all right?’’
‘‘I’m fine,’’ Corinna fibbed. ‘‘Perfectly fine.’’
She couldn’t help wondering if she’d done the right thing encouraging Sean to continue deceiving Lord Lincolnshire. In fact, it seemed she could think about little else. Besides the kiss. And the reception. And her looming deadline to finish her portrait.
But she was fine. Perfectly fine.
And she was lying to herself again.
Rachael patted her shoulder. ‘‘Don’t get yourself in a dither. I know this reception is important to you, but we shall all contrive to make certain it’s a wild success.’’
Lady A’s sisters reached for their reticules as Alexandra lifted baby Harry out of his pram. ‘‘Yes, we will,’’ they all confirmed in unison.
Aunt Frances pushed slowly to her feet. ‘‘Yes, we will,’’ she echoed, sounding a little bit breathless.
Apparently noticing that, Juliana laid a hand on her arm. ‘‘Are you feeling poorly, Aunt Frances?’’
‘‘No, just fat and ugly and short of breath. My friend Lady Mabel swears this city isn’t good for the lungs once a lady reaches a certain age, but then again, she has asthma.’’ Frances laughed. ‘‘I’m only with child.’’
Elizabeth grabbed her cloak, but as it was a warm day she didn’t put it on. ‘‘Our mother always said that about the London air, too. But I don’t remember her ever having any trouble breathing.’’
‘‘That’s because she refused to come to London,’’ Claire said, and turned to Juliana. ‘‘I hope you put those extra tea buns in the basket for us. Mama used to make them, but we haven’t had them in years.’’
‘‘I figured as much.’’ Juliana handed her the basket. Leaving Corinna and Alexandra behind, she started walking the rest of her guests toward the door. ‘‘Your mother copied the recipe into our family cookbook. She said the tea buns encourage serenity.’’
‘‘Is that why you made them?’’ Rachael asked. ‘‘Do you think Corinna feels a need for serenity?’’
Before Corinna could go after them and speak for herself, Juliana answered. ‘‘Of course she feels a need for serenity. Her entire future hangs in the balance!’’
Corinna heard everyone laugh before they said their good-byes. Then she heard the door shut, and Juliana returned to the Palm Room.
Going to a sideboard that had gilt legs carved to look like palm trees, she poured three glasses of sherry before joining her sisters on one of the many sofas covered in palm tree-themed satin fabric. ‘‘Here,’’ she said, handing Corinna a glass. ‘‘I expect you will find this encourages serenity much more than tea buns.’’
Corinna sipped gratefully. ‘‘I didn’t expect to be nervous about this reception.’’
‘‘That’s natural,’’ Alexandra said, shifting Harry in order to take a sip.
‘‘And you’re nervous about something else, too.’’ Juliana crossed her legs. ‘‘I can tell. Out with it, Corinna.’’
They knew her too well; there was no sense pretending. She sighed. ‘‘I have a secret.’’
Her sisters exchanged meaningful glances. ‘‘Well?’’ Alexandra asked.
‘‘Lord Lincolnshire’s nephew isn’t John Hamilton,’’ Corinna confessed in a rush. ‘‘I mean, John Hamilton
is
his nephew, but the man you met at Lady Partridge’s ball isn’t. He’s his brother-in-law. He wanted to tell Lord Lincolnshire the truth, but I convinced him not to, and now I’m not sure that was right.’’
‘‘Whoa.’’ Juliana’s sip of sherry was more like a gulp. ‘‘Explain that again. Slowly, and with more detail.’’
Corinna did so, then held her breath before asking, ‘‘Was I wrong? Should he tell Lord Lincolnshire the truth?’’
Juliana shook her head. ‘‘Absolutely not.’’
‘‘I agree.’’ Alexandra patted her son’s back. ‘‘Lord Lincolnshire deserves a happy ending.’’
Corinna blew the breath out. ‘‘You’re right. I love Lord Lincolnshire.’’
‘‘So do we,’’ Alexandra assured her.
‘‘I’m going to visit him more often. I promised Mr. Delaney I would, to help him keep up the pretense that he’s an artist.’’
‘‘You’ll get to see more of Mr. Delaney that way, too, hmm?’’ Juliana’s eyes danced. ‘‘That shouldn’t be a hardship.’’
Alexandra looked to Corinna. ‘‘She’s meddling again, isn’t she?’’
‘‘Doesn’t she always?’’
‘‘I can tell you’re attracted to the man,’’ Juliana said defensively. ‘‘And I cannot say I blame you. He’s a handsome devil—’’
‘‘You’re a married woman!’’ Corinna interrupted.
‘‘A very happy one,’’ her sister agreed. ‘‘But a lady doesn’t go blind when she takes her marriage vows. Or deaf, either. That accent—’’
‘‘You make him sound like a pretty box. You know nothing about the man inside.’’ Neither did she, for that matter.
‘‘I know he’s being very nice to Lord Lincolnshire. And that his sister is married to John Hamilton, which means he’s connected to the right people.’’
‘‘He’s not a peer, Juliana. He owns property.’’
‘‘Doesn’t every gentleman own property?’’
‘‘I mean he buys and sells buildings for a living. Among other things.’’ She wondered what. ‘‘And he’s Irish.’’ With that Irish accent. She’d gone back and bought
Children of the Abbey
this morning, and she’d already read up to page 43, where Amanda thought,
the
harmony of his voice imparted a charm that seldom failed of being irresistible
.
‘‘Does his being Irish bother you?’’ Juliana asked.
‘‘Of course not.’’ Just thinking of that melodic Irish voice made her imagine hot kisses, which hardly bothered her. Well, maybe it did, but not in the way her sister meant. ‘‘But it might bother Griffin.’’
‘‘Griffin would be a hypocrite if it did,’’ Juliana scoffed. ‘‘His own name comes from an Irish ancestor.’’
‘‘That’s right,’’ Alexandra put in. ‘‘Our fifth or sixth or seventh great-grandfather, wasn’t he? Aidan Griffin, Baron Kilcullen from Ballygriffin, Ireland. Born 1568, died 1648 at Cainewood.’’
‘‘How do you remember such things?’’ Corinna asked.
‘‘Family is important to me.’’ She smiled at little Harry, who was named after her husband’s uncle. ‘‘Besides, you remember every word you’ve ever read.’’
‘‘That’s different. I can’t help it. And I don’t even like it. My brain is always filled with all those stupid lines.’’ She sighed. ‘‘In any case, I’m not interested in Mr. Delaney that way.’’ Maybe for a few kisses, but that was a far cry from what Juliana had in mind. ‘‘I’ve only seventeen days to finish my portrait. And spend some time with Lord Lincolnshire while I still can.’’
Juliana nodded so thoughtfully that Corinna could almost see the scheming going on in her head. She hadn’t given up. But apparently she’d decided to back off for now. ‘‘I think that’s very kind of you,’’ she said. ‘‘You should bring Lord Lincolnshire a sweet to brighten his last days.’’
‘‘Corinna doesn’t bake,’’ Alexandra reminded her.

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