Portrait of My Heart (38 page)
The last thing Maggie expected to see, on the other side of the doorway, was Jeremy, naked, in a portable brass bathtub. But that’s exactly the sight that met her eyes as she stumbled into the master bedroom. That, and a very surprised-looking Peters, shaking out his colonel’s coat.
The last thing Jeremy expected to see, at that point, was a breathless and clearly disheveled Maggie. But that’s exactly what he did see stagger through his bedroom door.
“Good God, Mags,” Jeremy said mildly, from the tub. “What happened to you? You look as if you’d been to hell and back.”
Before Maggie had a chance to reply, Evers insinuated his way through the doorway, crying, “I
am
sorry, Your Grace. She insisted upon being admitted to see you. I told her that you had retired for the evening, but she simply would
not
take no for an answer.” To Maggie, the butler said, as he wrapped a firm hand around her upper arm, “Now, Miss Margaret, that is quite enough. His Grace is thoroughly indisposed, as you can see. I’m sure whatever it is you have to tell him can wait until morning—”
am
sorry, Your Grace. She insisted upon being admitted to see you. I told her that you had retired for the evening, but she simply would
not
take no for an answer.” To Maggie, the butler said, as he wrapped a firm hand around her upper arm, “Now, Miss Margaret, that is quite enough. His Grace is thoroughly indisposed, as you can see. I’m sure whatever it is you have to tell him can wait until morning—”
Maggie wrenched her arm from Evers’s grasp. “No, it cannot,” she snapped. “And if you touch me again, I shall stick my thumb in your eye.”
Evers blinked indignantly, and Maggie felt a moment’s guilt. After all, the butler had only been doing his job. But he didn’t, she told herself, have to do it so well.
“Really, Miss Margaret!” cried the butler. “I shall be forwarding information about your behavior this evening to your father!”
In the brass bathtub that had been set up a few feet from the hearth, Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Really, Mags,” he drawled. “I quite agree with Evers. There isn’t any need for dramatics. Just say what you have to say, and then get back to your fiancé, like a good girl.”
“He is no longer,” Maggie said loftily, “my fiance, a fact you might have discovered for yourself if you had bothered to ask questions tonight before storming out so rudely. But far be it from
me
to suggest that the Duke of Rawlings might possibly be wrong about something.” Tossing her head, Maggie turned to go.
me
to suggest that the Duke of Rawlings might possibly be wrong about something.” Tossing her head, Maggie turned to go.
“Wait!”
The booming command was so loud, the decanter Evers carried tinkled a little as he jiggled it with surprise. Maggie, however, only glanced casually back over one bare shoulder.
“Are you addressing
me
in that uncivil manner, Your Grace?” she inquired.
me
in that uncivil manner, Your Grace?” she inquired.
Jeremy was leaning forward in his bath, his hands gripping the brass sides so tightly that she could clearly see that his knuckles had gone white. “What do you mean, he’s no longer your fiancé?” Jeremy demanded, in a deadly serious voice.
“What I said.” Maggie started toward the door again. “But what do you care? You told me to get out. And so I am. Gladly.”
“Maggie!”
This time the voice was so loud that Evers let out a squeak and darted from the room, nearly shoving Maggie out of the way in his haste to escape the duke’s wrath. Peters dropped the coat he was brushing, then bent hastily to pick it up, hoping his colonel hadn’t noticed. Only Maggie remained where she was, just inside the room, but one hand on the door latch.
“What?” she asked coldly, again speaking over her shoulder.
Scissoring a glance at his valet, Jeremy said, in tones of impatience, “Peters. Leave us.”
The valet didn’t waste any time. For a one-legged man, Peters could move with alacrity when instructed. He didn’t disappear into the dressing room, either, but limped toward the door through which the butler had disappeared. He did pause, however, long enough to give Maggie a slow wink. Maggie, taken aback by this comradely gesture, blinked in astonishment as the door clicked shut behind him.
“Now,” Jeremy said, releasing the sides of the tub and leaning back. The steam from the hot water rose up in wispy tendrils around him. When he spoke again, it was with measured calm. “What’s this about de Veygoux no longer being your fiancé?”
Maggie felt something cold pressing against her bare back. Reaching behind her, she found an ivory hairpin dangling from the elaborate coiffure that Hill had arranged on top of her head earlier in the evening. She pulled the pin from her limp and tangled hair. “What I said,” she informed him, more coolly than she felt, “is that I am no longer engaged to Mr. de Veygoux.”
“I see.” Jeremy, raising his arms until they balanced along the sides of the tub, studied her. It was dark in the Green Room. The only light was that which came from the roaring fire in the fireplace, and from the oil lamp at the side of the duke’s enormous bed. The firelight, striking the brass tub, reflected against the high ceiling, and the bright gold patches overhead danced crazily whenever Jeremy caused the water to slosh inside the tub.
Still, in spite of the dim lighting, Maggie could easily make out the satin-skinned swell of his biceps, as he draped his heavily muscled arms along the tub’s rims. The thick patches of dark hair that nested beneath those arms matched the inky mat that carpeted his broad chest, tapering down until it disappeared below the water’s surface. The opaqueness of the soapy water kept her from seeing much more than that, but Maggie already knew what lay below those murky depths. His ear, she saw, was no longer bleeding at
all. Even his wounded shoulder seemed better. For a man with malaria, he healed very quickly.
all. Even his wounded shoulder seemed better. For a man with malaria, he healed very quickly.
Jeremy, for his part, could see Maggie quite well, for all she stood silhouetted against the fire. And what a silhouette it was. Her gown, plastered damply to her body, fit her like a second skin. It was all Jeremy could do to keep himself from leaping from the tub and throwing her back against the bed.
Only the memory of that damned painting kept him where he was. It wasn’t enough, he told himself, for her to want him. She had to trust him, too.
Still, it was with a slightly trembling hand that Jeremy reached out and lifted a bell-shaped glass from a small collapsible table his valet had set up beside the tub. The
ballon
contained an amber liquid that Jeremy neatly downed. Ah. Better.
ballon
contained an amber liquid that Jeremy neatly downed. Ah. Better.
“And how,” he asked, after he’d swallowed, “did that come about? The disintegration of your engagement, I mean. Because when I saw you earlier this evening, you were in his arms. You hardly looked like a couple that had gone their separate ways.”
“Well, we’re still friends,” Maggie replied. She couldn’t help but gaze a little longingly at what was left in Jeremy’s glass. Her chill was only just beginning to dissipate. If only, she thought, she’d accepted the footman’s offer of a toddy. She really believed she might never be warm again. “We’ll probably always be friends,” she went on. “Augustin was just happy because the Prince of Wales commissioned me to do a portrait for him, that’s all. But he’s not in love with me anymore. He’s in love with Berangère now.”
“Really?” Jeremy put the glass, not quite empty, back on the tabletop. “And how do you suppose that came about?”
“Oh,” Maggie said, with a shrug. What did it matter? Why were they wasting time talking, when they could be in one another’s arms? “Berangère seduced him.”
Jeremy raised his dark, sardonic eyebrows. That had not, he noted, been part of the scheme he had worked out with Berangère. And yet it was a brilliant bit of improvisation on her part. He’d have to see that she was amply rewarded for
it. “Interesting turn of events,” he commented dryly.
it. “Interesting turn of events,” he commented dryly.
“I thought so.” Maggie looked down, fingering the hairpin she held. “Much like … well, many of the things that happened tonight.”
Jeremy did not comment on that. Did he know what she was referring to? He had to! He
had
to know she was referring to the princess. But he wasn’t saying anything. What was
wrong
with him? she wondered. She’d have thought that upon hearing her engagement had been broken off, he’d have leapt right out of that tub and thrown his arms around her. But it looked as if ravishing her—or having anything to do with her—was the last thing on his mind. He seemed perfectly content to stay where he was. A brief glance showed that he wasn’t even looking in her direction. He was gazing into the fire, his face expressionless. Good Lord, Maggie thought. Was he
that
upset about the sapphire?
had
to know she was referring to the princess. But he wasn’t saying anything. What was
wrong
with him? she wondered. She’d have thought that upon hearing her engagement had been broken off, he’d have leapt right out of that tub and thrown his arms around her. But it looked as if ravishing her—or having anything to do with her—was the last thing on his mind. He seemed perfectly content to stay where he was. A brief glance showed that he wasn’t even looking in her direction. He was gazing into the fire, his face expressionless. Good Lord, Maggie thought. Was he
that
upset about the sapphire?
Or was it something else? Was it that now that she was free, he wasn’t sure he wanted her anymore? Maggie’s heart, the only part of her that didn’t feel chilled, went cold at the thought. Maybe he’d only wanted her when he thought he couldn’t have her. But no, that couldn’t be. He’d gone to all that trouble to bring her family to her! Why would he do that for someone he wasn’t in love with, for someone he didn’t want to marry?
So why wasn’t he asking now, when she was finally prepared to say yes?
Maybe because he’d finally realized she was the stupidest, least courageous girl in the world. Oh, she was willing to take risks, all right—she’d hung a lot of her paintings on a wall and let people look at them and make comments about them—but when it came to something that really mattered—her heart—she’d use any excuse she could to keep from exposing it. And why would a man like Jeremy, who was braver than anyone she’d ever known, want to marry a stupid coward like herself?
He wouldn’t. Not unless she proved to him she wasn’t the coward he thought her.
Taking a deep breath, Maggie crossed the room, not stopping until she reached the table where he’d placed his glass.
Leaning down, she reached for the
ballon.
Jeremy’s gaze, which had been fastened on the fire, immediately dipped to her decolletage. This, at least, was encouraging.
Leaning down, she reached for the
ballon.
Jeremy’s gaze, which had been fastened on the fire, immediately dipped to her decolletage. This, at least, was encouraging.
“May I?” she asked, indicating the glass.
Jeremy nodded wordlessly, then licked his lips, which seemed to have gone suddenly dry.
“Thank you.” Maggie lifted the glass to her own bloodless lips. Tilting back the
ballon,
she allowed the fiery liquid to slide down her throat. The brandy began to warm her at once, all the way down to her frozen toes, in a way fire couldn’t.
ballon,
she allowed the fiery liquid to slide down her throat. The brandy began to warm her at once, all the way down to her frozen toes, in a way fire couldn’t.
Jeremy, she noticed, seemed to be suffering from a similar sensation, only it wasn’t his toes that were affected. He twisted a little, enough to send the steaming water sloshing over the sides of the brass tub. He did not, however, appear to notice.
“That’s better,” Maggie said. She lowered the now empty glass, taking careful note of the way Jeremy’s eyes followed her every movement. The silver-flecked gaze didn’t leave her as she sank down onto a leather-covered ottoman a few feet away from the tub. Nor did it stray when she reached up and began pulling the rest of the ivory pins from her thick, dark hair.
Jeremy licked his lips. “So,” he said. “If you’re so full of explanations, how do you explain that”—He cleared his throat—“painting?”
It took Maggie a second before she realized what he was talking about. Painting? What painting? Then, suddenly, his anger—all of that white-hot rage—seemed to make sense. The painting! The painting of Jeremy! She hadn’t been aware that he’d seen it. Well, no wonder, then … .
“That painting,” she began carefully. “It wasn’t supposed to be in the show.”
Jeremy’s expression did not change, nor did he look away from her. “Wasn’t it?”
“No.” Maggie set a handful of pins down upon the floor. “Those moving men Augustin sent over to my studio picked it up by mistake. Then one of the gallery assistants hung it, without checking with me first, and wouldn’t take it down
when I asked. I don’t think it’s a very good example of my work. I did it a long time ago.”
when I asked. I don’t think it’s a very good example of my work. I did it a long time ago.”
Jeremy watched as she gave the knot in her hair a tug, bringing the thick mass cascading down over her bare shoulders. “Did you?” he asked tonelessly.
“Yes. I had some idiotic idea that if I painted a portrait of you, I’d be able to … I don’t know. Get you out of my bloodstream.” She began to work on the pearl buttons to her gloves.
“I see.” Jeremy was very still inside the bath. “It worked, apparently.”
She flicked a glance at him. “Don’t be stupid. You know it didn’t work. If it had, would I be here?”
“I don’t know,” Jeremy replied truthfully. “I don’t know what you’re doing here.”
Maggie, finished peeling off her gloves, reached down and began slipping out of her wet shoes. “You
are
stupid, then,” was all she said.
are
stupid, then,” was all she said.
Jeremy bristled, sitting up straight in the tub. “You know, for once, Mags, I agree with you. I
am
stupid. I thought that you and I had something special. I really did. But it became clear to me when I saw that portrait—”
am
stupid. I thought that you and I had something special. I really did. But it became clear to me when I saw that portrait—”
“Would you please,” Maggie said disgustedly, lifting her skirt to undo her garters, “forget about that damned painting?”
“You made me look like some kind of criminal,” he accused her. “Like a gambler, or a horse thief, or something.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Maggie snapped. She’d propped one foot on the side of the brass tub, and was rolling down a damp silk stocking. “I was seventeen years old! To me, you
were
a criminal. You’d stolen my heart. And need I remind you that to this day, I haven’t yet gotten it back?”
were
a criminal. You’d stolen my heart. And need I remind you that to this day, I haven’t yet gotten it back?”
“What about you?” Jeremy demanded. “For five years, I waited for you, only to find out you’d gone and gotten yourself engaged to somebody else!”
“I know,” Maggie said, going to work on the stocking on her left leg. “I’m guilty, too. Although allow me to remind
you that at the time, I thought you’d just gotten yourself awarded your very own princess … .”
you that at the time, I thought you’d just gotten yourself awarded your very own princess … .”
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