The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne (26 page)

The mention of a Raphael suitably impressed Herr Werner. He was about to speak when something caught his eye. He abruptly turned toward the door and broke into a big smile. “Ah, here he is. I wrote to say I was bringing the paintings today if he wanted to see them first.”

Southwaite entered like the lord he was and greeted Herr Werner with the hint of condescension expected. He bowed formally to Emma and Cassandra, then turned to Obediah.

“Mr. Riggles, the paintings that I mentioned are being removed from a wagon outside. I trust that you will have a corner where they can be hung, even with the count’s impressive collection in your sale.”

Obediah did not show his surprise, but Emma could read it well enough in his eyes. This was the first he had heard of any consignments from Southwaite.

Herr Werner had eyes for no one except Southwaite now. “You intend to auction more current works, I believe you wrote, Lord Southwaite.” He rubbed his hands together. “A good mix, then. We will not compete with each other.”

The two men chatted while those current works were carried in. A Watteau that Southwaite had bought here at auction came first, then a Gillot and an Italian primitive of great charm that Emma could not attribute. Finally a large, beautiful Venetian scene by Guardi arrived, carried by three men.

Obediah sidled close to Emma. “Did Lord Southwaite tell you about these consignments?”

“Not one word.” She wondered when he had written to Herr Werner with his intentions. Before they went to Kent, it appeared.

Southwaite had not approved of this sale. He wanted the business sold. She knew now that he even suspected Fairbourne’s of criminal activity. Yet he had taken a step to ensure she received this collection.

Herr Werner came over to take his leave. With a flourish he marched out. Southwaite turned his attention to the count’s paintings.

“I will prepare the papers for these consignments, sir,” Obediah said to Southwaite. “They should be in order in a quarter hour, if you would care to wait, or I will bring them to you if you prefer.”

“I will wait.” He lifted the Bellini to get a closer look.

Cassandra caught Emma’s eye. She nodded her head in Southwaite’s direction and rolled her eyes. Then she walked away and sat in a chair near the entrance and proceeded to flirt with the house guards.

Emma approached Southwaite. She could not blame him if he cut her now, or dismissed her the way he might a servant. He appeared capable of either. She had come to know him so well that she forgot sometimes just how hard he could appear, and how his face and carriage were marked by the prerogatives of his birth and breeding.

“It is a stunning portrait,” she said of the Bellini that he held.

“It is amazing. The clarity of the light makes it very lifelike.”

“Perhaps you will buy it.”

“Perhaps I will.” He set it down and turned to face her with an expression most cool. “When will the sale be?”

“Ten days from now. The invitations were sent this morning for the grand preview. It will be the night before.” The letter from Robert had made holding the sale as soon as possible an imperative. Her fingers had almost bled last night from all the invitations she had written.

“The count’s collection is better than I expected,” he said. “You should do very well.”

“Your help will make it so. Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Except for the Guardi, I had tired of them.”

“I do not mean your paintings, but your correspondence with Herr Werner.”

He strolled slowly along the wall, and resumed viewing the paintings lined up at its base. “Well, you were determined to go forward. If it were going to happen at all, Fairbourne’s should make a good showing.”

Of course. He had an investment here, after all. He would indeed want Fairbourne’s to acquit itself well, so its value would not be diminished.

She paced along with him, admiring the collection, proud of just how good a showing it would be and relieved that she might well raise the money to ransom Robert.

“You are being very cool, Emma,” Southwaite said. “Have you nothing to say to me except things about your auction?”

“Forgive me. I do not know the etiquette. I cannot imagine what women and men would say to each other in situations such as this.”

“In your case, you might say that after some thought you realized that only a madwoman would turn down a proposal from an earl.”

She had counted on him never mentioning that. His pride was hurt, still. “It was mad, wasn’t it?”

“Idiotic.”

“But also wise, unfortunately.” She did not like having to say that again. She resented that he required it.

“I disagree. However, for the moment it is convenient. It makes what I am about to say easier to broach.”

“What is that?”

His gaze scanned the exhibition hall, then came to rest on her. “How many lots in this auction will be from esteemed gentlemen who demand discretion?”

She swallowed hard. “Not too many.”

“Make it none.”

“That may not be possible.”

“Make it possible. Return what you cannot attach to a name. It must all go. Today.”

“The consignor of the drawings will not agree to have his name used. Also there is one painting—you have not seen it yet—which must remain even if all else is returned. The Raphael. Word has unaccountably spread that there will be one.”

“Has it, now? Unaccountably, no less.”

“I will not give that up. I promise that its provenance is in order.”

“You can keep the Raphael, and the drawings, but you must obey me on the rest. Do you understand that, Emma? The Guardi alone will replace whatever you might have earned off what you return.”

She nodded, not because she was sure the Guardi would do that, but because she could not find the courage to refuse him. He had taken some pains to arrange things so she would not have to sell illegal goods. She could hardly announce that she would do so anyway, even if a part of her wanted to, in order to prove that she had not surrendered more than she guessed in the ballroom.

She had, however. That was obvious to her now that she was with him again. His closeness affected her body and her heart. With one look and one word he could spin his spell. She hated to admit that she had little defense against it.

He took her hand and bent over it in a bow of farewell. His warm breath titillated her skin and sent trembles up her arm.

His lips briefly touched her skin.

She glanced around, worried that someone might see the deep flush that she felt warming her face, and the rest of her too. Cassandra still sat near the door. The two guards now stood near her, laughing.

Again his lips pressed her hand. He looked up at her and triumph showed in his eyes. He knew about that flush even if no one else did. It was all there, his awareness that she was hardly immune and the power that her surrender had given him. He did not appear to be a man who had accepted her rejection, but then, he had given her fair warning that he would not.

One more kiss, then he walked away.

Cassandra received a bow too. After the earl left, she hurried to where Emma stood. She looked at Emma with anticipation.

“We need to complete the planning of the grand preview,” Emma said, walking toward the storage. “We must decide on the food and drink.”

Cassandra followed. “What a surprise, to have Southwaite bring those paintings.”

“It was very surprising.”

“It will be the finest auction of the year, I think.”

“Your jewels will have the best audience possible.” Emma moved aside the roll of drawings that came to her by way of Marielle Lyon, then set a sheet of paper on the desk. “What should we feed the guests?”

“Better turn your mind to the drink first. That is the costlier provision. Punch?”

“Punch will do, but…” Emma rose and squeezed between the tables toward a far corner where canvas covered a blocky tower.

Southwaite had commanded she return anything without a named consignor. She did not know how to return the goods that had come in the wagon. Nor would she do it.

She needed to raise a good amount of money from this auction. Herr Werner had demanded a much lower seller’s commission, and she would owe Marielle and Cassandra payments too. She would make sure that those books and
silver and even the silk and laces had a consignor, though, so he was not exactly disobeyed.

As for the rest, she could always throw it in the river, she supposed. Or…

“Fairbourne’s has some cases of old wine here, Cassandra. Perhaps we should serve that.” She fished under the canvas until her hand felt a bottle’s neck. She pulled it out and made her way back to the desk, holding it high.

“Serve the punch, but definitely offer wine if you have enough.”

“I have enough.” She nipped over to the office and found a screw. “Are you experienced in using one of these?” she asked Cassandra upon returning.

Cassandra went to work on the bottle. “I heard that Southwaite was down in Kent again. At the same time that you were there.”

“Do tell.”

“Did you see him?”

“Kent is a big county and we hardly have the same circles. We were unlikely to cross paths.”

“It is not so big.” Cassandra put her strength into pulling out the cork. “He kissed your hand when he left.”

“He can be very gallant.”

“It seemed a long kiss to me. Very long. I would describe it as lingering.”

“Tosh! You could not even see it.”

“I could see you blush. That was very apparent to me. As was the way he looked at you when he left.”

“You are boring me now.” Emma wiped out two silver goblets borrowed from the consignments. “Let us taste this, to make sure it will be worthy of my guests.”

They tasted. Cassandra raised her eyebrows, impressed. “It is a very fine claret, nicely aged.”

Emma enjoyed her cup immensely. “It does not seem to have suffered any damage, or turned.”

Cassandra poured them each another cup. “You must bring one bottle home and have Maitland decant it, to be sure. After it breathes it should taste even better. Let us try
a bit more, though, to make sure our initial impressions hold.”

Emma’s impressions improved with the second cup. It warmed her, and brought the gentle peace wine could imbue.

“Emma, forgive me for asking, but if I do not, I will burst. Have you been a little naughty?” Cassandra asked between sips. “With Southwaite, I mean.”

“No, I have not been naughty, Cassandra.”

“Oh, that is a relief.” Cassandra pressed her palm to her heart. “When I saw the two of you together today, well, the most astonishing notion came to me.” She laughed at herself. “I am happy that I misunderstood.”

Emma cradled the goblet in her two hands and gazed over its rim at Cassandra. “You certainly have misunderstood. I have not been a little naughty. I have been very, very bad.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed fast. She scrutinized Emma hard. “When you say very bad, do you mean very bad for Emma, who is never bad at all and thus very bad might only mean quite naughty, or do you mean very bad in a generally understood sort of way?”

“I mean very bad the way you might mean it.”

“Emma, are you saying that Southwaite
seduced
you?”

Emma nodded, drank her wine, and waited for Cassandra’s congratulations.

“Oh, dear,” Cassandra muttered, stunned.

“I thought you would approve. You encouraged me to practice with him.”

“
Flirting
, Emma. I encouraged you to practice
flirting
with him.”

A
t six o’clock that evening, Emma still remained at Fairbourne’s. Other than the house guards, she was alone.

Cassandra had left in a state of shock. Emma refused to give the details of that tryst with Southwaite, but Cassandra had surmised enough to know just how bad Emma had been. After swearing her to secrecy, Emma had revealed the
proposal too, but only because Cassandra had taken umbrage at Southwaite’s behavior and called him a scoundrel.

Cassandra had understood why Emma could not accept such an offer. At least, she claimed she had. If Cassandra had thought the reasons less than clear, it was because she did not know all the reasons.

Emma gazed at the bottle of wine they had shared. If she did not auction the wine, or the other contents of that wagon, could she claim she had not done anything wrong? In providing those paintings that would cover the loss of commissions if she obeyed Southwaite, had he also provided a balm to her conscience? It would be nice not to betray him by passing illegal goods right under his nose, through a business in which he possessed a troublesome partnership.

If no more wagons arrived secretly, if she could win the prize with a favor that did not compromise Fairbourne’s or him, if she could be done with all of this in a week, perhaps—

The second cup of wine had made her merry, but its effects were fading fast. All of her “ifs” sounded foolish to her mind. They were the voices of a woman grasping for hope that perhaps she might finish this game unscathed. She did not really think that would happen. Her own character and honor would be stained, even if no one else ever knew it.

She went out to the exhibition hall. The house guards still stood at their posts, and the third remained outside. Perhaps they waited for her to depart so they could sit down.

The paintings faced her from where they had been set against the wall. She had a lot of work to do in the next week. She would be very busy. Too busy, perhaps, to think about Southwaite.

The door to the street opened. The guards immediately flanked the threshold. A man in an ill-fitting coat and flat-brimmed hat entered. The guard posted outside grabbed him by the collar and began to pull him back out.

“Allow him in,” she called. “He is here to see me.”

The guard released her caller. The man whom she had met at St. Paul’s walked to her, head tilted so he could see the paintings high on the wall.

“I was wondering how to find you again,” she said. “I will have the payment soon, but do not know how to deliver it.”

“That’s what I am for. Deliveries and such, back and forth. I’m here to explain how it is done, seein’ as how yer father doesn’t seem to have told ye.”