The Nude (full-length historical romance) (44 page)

“Damned nuisance, this lack of money. It has turned me into a man I despise.” Severin pulled Nigel away from the crowd of men and lowered his voice. “Surely, Lady Edgeware has told you what I witnessed several years ago at Mercer’s estate. I apologize for not doing more. That one time I’d stepped in, she gave me such a blistering set-down I never attempted to assist her again.”

At that, Nigel quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“She is a strong lady. You are lucky to have found her.” Severin frowned as he watched Charlie saunter away. Severin then swallowed a healthy dose of his drink, a strong whiskey. “If I were in her place, I wouldn’t be able to abide to be in the same room as Charlie, much less speak civilly with him.”

“Charlie?” Nigel asked. “He’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” Severin snorted and nearly choked. “Charlie encouraged that brute Mercer whenever he started to make sport of Elsbeth. I was there to witness one dreadful evening. Charlie and Mercer were deep in their cups and vicious. Thought I would die from shame, knowing what they were doing to a lady. I had to step in even though I’d probably only made things worse for Elsbeth, the poor thing. Men like that don’t stop. They never stop.”

“Mercer and Charlie raped her?” Nigel asked, quite unable to believe it.

“Charlie didn’t. At least not that night. I made damn sure he wouldn’t be in a position to touch a woman for several days, in fact. As for that bastard Mercer, I don’t know. I didn’t stay long enough to find out. I am sorry, Edgeware. I ended my friendship with them the very next day, but I now wish I had done more. At least with you she has a chance to heal and perhaps find some happiness.”

Nigel was quaking with impotent rage. She should have told him. He would have kept Charlie away from her, protected her from his constant taunts. Thank God Severin had finally confessed what he knew.

“I’ll have a word with Lord Baneshire this evening on your behalf, Severin. You’re still a rakish young man, but I believe you will turn out well in the end.”

“Thank you, Edgeware. You-you don’t know what that means to me.” Severin pumped Nigel’s hand.

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle it? Marriage, I mean?” Nigel asked. “I believe Lady Lauretta will expect a faithful husband.”

“And she’ll have one. My current lifestyle has long lost its luster. I’m looking forward to quiet evenings by the fire. And children. Lots of children.”

Nigel had to admit he’d never seen Severin look so happy. He hoped he’d be able to convince Baneshire to change his mind regarding Severin’s motives for wanting to marry Lady Lauretta. Perhaps if Nigel provided Severin with a healthy sum of money—in appreciation for keeping Dionysus’s secret—Baneshire might see the reformed rake in an entirely different light. Yes, that would be the right thing to do.

As for Charlie, Nigel wasn’t sure what he planned to do. He watched as his cousin laughed boisterously with Sir Donald. With Nigel and Uncle Charles out of the way, Charlie would stand to inherit everything. He would have all the money he would ever need. Perhaps Elsbeth had been right all along. Perhaps—

“Nigel.” A slender hand touched his sleeve. Nigel’s body reacted immediately to her touch. He smiled down on that hand.

“I don’t deserve you, love.” He covered her hand with his.

“No.” Elsbeth’s eyes were hard, her lips drawn to a thin line. “You don’t deserve me, you deceiving bounder.”

Her voice wasn’t much above a whisper. Anyone around them couldn’t possibly suspect how her words wounded him.

“Elsbeth? What is wrong?”

She held out the locket, the chain broken.

“You.
You are what is wrong. You’ve lied to me from the start.” Her voice rose. A few heads turned toward them. “Did you think I would be grateful? You’ve played me no differently than an unruly child wrecking a toy. Trapping me into one painful scenario after another. The nude painting that was inspired. Everyone thought such nasty things about me after that. Where else was I to turn but into your waiting arms?”

“Elsbeth,” Nigel scolded, too confused to do anything but chide her. She wasn’t making a whit of sense. A crowd began gathering around them and the scene they were making.

“Edgeware has never wished to harm you.” George pushed his way through the throng to stand at Nigel’s side. “Surely you know that, my lady.”

She glared at George for a moment before returning her killing gaze to Nigel.

“Perhaps the Lord Edgeware you know is honorable, Mr. Waver. But I assure you, Dionysus lacks even a grain of decency.”

“Dionysus?” a murmur rose in the growing crowd.

“Boy!” Lord Purbeck stepped forward. “Put a stop to this.”

But Nigel only held out his hands, helpless to do anything but allow her to unmask him in front of everyone. After all the pain she’d suffered because of him, she deserved to be the one to rip this façade away.

“Lord Edgeware is Dionysus,” Elsbeth announced. “With his paintings he tricked me. He made me fall in love with a monster . . . twice.”

The room fell silent. Someone had even told the orchestra to stop playing.

“Is this true?” George demanded.

“Yes.” Nigel wouldn’t deny what Elsbeth had said. He deserved the
ton’s
scorn, not her.

The locket in Elsbeth’s hand clattered to the floor as the crowd pushed her out of their way and closed ranks around him.

“I say, brilliant work,” a gentleman boasted.

“This is all so exciting,” a lady twittered.

“Bah!” Uncle Charles snorted.

* * * * *

They were proud of him, laughing and patting him on the back. Oh, what a lark! He’d pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. He was ever so clever, was he not?

The porcelain lovers staring lovingly at each other within the locket were crushed under the feet of excited guests. The sound of Nigel’s gift being destroyed burned in Elsbeth’s ears as she let herself be pushed away. She didn’t wish to cry in front of the entire population of the
ton
. She didn’t wish to cry at all, in fact.

Hiding somewhere, curling up into a tight ball, and dying felt like a promising option. Nigel had betrayed her trust. He had lured her into feeling soft emotions, had lured her into opening her heart just so he could rip it to shreds.

She loved Nigel as fiercely as she had loved Dionysus.

Oh la, why had she not learned her lesson the first time?

She stumbled blindly into a side table. A hand curled around her arm and gave her a tug. “Come with me.”

* * * * *

“Elsbeth?” How could she disappear so quickly? The rest of the world could go hang themselves. She was the only one who mattered. Nigel pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the tugs on his sleeve and pats on the back.

On the stair leading to the bedchambers, he finally found a moment’s peace. Surely she’d escaped to her own room. Where else other than her personal chamber could a lady go to hide?

He raised his hand to knock on her door.

“She’s not within,” Gainsford said as he emerged from the darkened chamber.

“Where is she then?”

“I don’t know.”

Well, he simply would have to find her.

“Sir?” Gainsford shifted from one foot to the next, looking damned guilty. “There is something in there you should see.”

“Are you snooping again?” The nasty habit had been a real problem when Gainsford had first taken employment with Nigel.

“Lady Edgeware had asked me to put something away for her. It wasn’t my fault the latch fell open.”

“I don’t have time for games. I must find Elsbeth.”

Gainsford grabbed Nigel’s arm. “You must see this first, my lord.”

Not wanting to waste time arguing, he followed Gainsford into Elsbeth’s bedchamber. It was empty and cold as if she had never really inhabited the room.

Gainsford went straight to her jewelry box and produced the original golden locket. “She stopped wearing this the day the Earl of Baneshire came to take her home, my lord.” Gainsford fiddled with the latch. “She told her uncle she was choosing to stay with you of her own free will.”

When the locket sprang open, Gainsford handed over the necklace. “I believe Lady Edgeware kept the memory of the man she loved close to her heart. But she was willing to set that love aside. She set that love aside for you.”

Nigel ground his jaw as he stared at the small scrap of canvas tucked inside the locket. He recognized it immediately. Of course he recognized it.

Tears pricked the back of his throat. The tiny canvas had been lovingly cut from one of Dionysus’s paintings—one of
his
paintings. His brush had flowed over this particular canvas only a few days after he had first seen Elsbeth, the lithe schoolgirl. Her image had already seeped deep into his soul.

Unlike many of his other paintings, he had added his image to this one, a tiny figure hardly visible. He stood off to the side, separate from the action in the scene.

Alone, completely alone.

But Elsbeth had seen him. Not only that, she had reached out to him by plucking him from his faraway position in the landscape and had placed him in the honored spot next to her heart.

What had he done?

She had always loved him, just as he had always loved her.

What had he done?

That devil, Hubert had taken that painting along with the others. He’d given them one by one to Elsbeth. He’d convinced Elsbeth that it was his passion that had created the paintings. Lord Mercer had tricked her into believing that it was his heart she loved.

But she had always loved Nigel, just as he had always loved her.

Yet his carelessness had destroyed that love.

He had destroyed the most important love of his life.

“Nige.”

Nigel blinked back the threatening tears to find that he was alone in the room. Gainsworth had left but now Charlie stood in the doorway, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Leave me,” he growled.

“Nige.” Charlie took a step into the darkened room. “Return to the celebration. Elly’s outburst is just her way of rebelling against you. She tried to do the same thing time and again with Mercer. I tried to warn you. I—”

Nigel slammed his fist into Charlie’s square jaw. His cousin dropped like a stone. “That’s just a taste of what I plan to do to you for what you and that bastard Mercer did to Elsbeth,” he said, and rubbed his sore knuckles.

He stepped over his cousin and rushed off to find Elsbeth. He needed to tell her what he should have confessed to her all those years ago.

* * * * *

“Edgeware and Dionysus are one and the same?” Mr. Waver asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “Incredible.”

Elsbeth didn’t say a word. She was grateful for the company, though. Mr. Waver had pulled her from the drawing room and had led her belowstairs and back to the locked doorway to Dionysus’s workshop. Or had she led Mr. Waver here?

“I should have known.” He shook his head. “I should have guessed it. His creative streak, something that quite obsessed him, disappeared one summer. I’d thought his uncle had finally beaten it out of him. It should have been obvious the desire had gone underground instead.”

She listened to Mr. Waver with only half an ear. Her head still buzzed from the shock. She had loved Nigel . . .

The key turned easily in the lock. The door opened without hesitation this time.

“So, this is where he goes to create?” Mr. Waver asked, poking his head into the darkened cellar. “Is this how you found out?”

She nodded. She hadn’t cried. She’d probably never cry over this. The hurt ran too deep.

“Show me.” Mr. Waver took her hand and led her down into the cellar. “Show me how his paintings have intruded on your love for him.”

She forced herself to descend the stairs and once again study the unfinished painting set up on the easel. Mr. Waver stood a step behind her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He held his silence.