Читать книгу The Complete Regency Surrender Collection - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 95

Chapter Seven

The next morning Gabriel leaned silently against the doorway of Mr Manning’s studio and watched Olivia recline along the divan, appearing to be a woman completely at ease in her surrounds. She was back here again, and he knew he had only himself to blame. If only he had been less interested in her when they were first married, he wouldn’t be standing here with his arms crossed to prevent himself from dragging her out.

When they had first met, it was evident Olivia had too great a mind for it to remain idle. That was why when he saw how much she enjoyed going to the Royal Academy and admiring the artwork, he’d encouraged her to pursue her interest. It was why he’d introduced her to Mr West and spoke with the man about having Olivia study art under his tutelage. She’d had no desire to create art, but she had a burning need to understand why certain pieces were revered. With her enthusiasm and intelligence, it was no surprise she became a well-respected expert of the Italian masters. His reward came from the luminous joy that shone from her each time she would talk about what she was learning. It didn’t occur to him until now that seeing her happy had meant that much to him.

And all these years later, she’d thanked him by posing for an indecent portrait that she intended to share with all of London. He should have encouraged her to pursue horticulture.

His thoughts were interrupted by Manning, who continued speaking with Olivia while mixing more paint. ‘Were there any scandals of note at the musical?’

‘None that I heard of,’ she said on a sigh. ‘Although, I try not to pay attention to such speculation.’

‘No one was compromised? No one was challenged?’ He approached her with a smile and adjusted her arm slightly.

‘Not that I witnessed,’ she replied grinning.

‘How about the Prince Regent? Any interesting tales of his exploits?’

‘None. In fact, he was not in attendance. I understand he is suffering terribly from the gout.’

‘That must make getting around rather difficult.’

‘I would think so.’

‘Has he been about?’

‘If he has, I’ve not seen him.’

Gabriel pushed away from the doorframe. ‘That is probably because you are devoting too much of your time to charitable causes such as this.’

There was a soft gasp from his unmoving wife.

‘Your Grace,’ the artist said in an uneven voice, bowing deferentially. ‘What a surprise.’

‘I decided to show myself in...again.’ He walked to the easel and crossed his arms. Today the canvas had paint on it. ‘Do you always begin your portraits there?’ Gabriel asked, looking at how Manning had captured the creamy skin of his wife’s neck and shoulders.

Manning tilted his head and studied the canvas. ‘No, it depends where my mood takes me.’

Gabriel’s attention was drawn to the top swell of his wife’s breasts, painted much too accurately. His fingers dug into his biceps. ‘My wife has sat long enough. She needs some refreshment.’

‘We have been stopping as often as she requires.’

‘You have painted quite a bit. I am certain she needs another.’

‘You may continue. I can assure you, I am well.’ Olivia’s voice rang out from across the room.

Manning shifted his gaze from his subject to Gabriel. Then his brown eyes widen momentarily. At least the man was not a complete nodcock. ‘The light has shifted. I believe we are finished for the day,’ he said, turning away from the canvas.

Olivia picked her head up and looked from the painter to Gabriel. ‘It was fine a few moments ago.’

‘It was shifting even then. I was only trying to finish the last few strokes.’

‘There will be no more strokes today,’ Gabriel said drily, strolling towards Olivia.

She glared at him but allowed him to help her to stand. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered sharply, adjusting the skirt of that enticing gown.

‘I told you,’ he whispered back, handing her a glass of wine that had been placed on a table near her, ‘I have come to see you have some refreshment. Now go and change. I am taking you to Gunter’s for ice.’

He expected her to argue, but she took a sip of wine and narrowed her eyes at him. He could tell she was up for a good row. He was starting to learn the signs.

A short while later, they sent Colette home in Olivia’s carriage, and Gabriel helped his hesitant wife into his high-perch phaeton. When he climbed into the box from the other side, he looked over to find her eyeing his new equipage. It was an exceptional piece of craftsmanship, with its highly glossed black finish that reflected the London streets like a mirror.

‘Is your artist always such a washer-woman?’

‘If you are asking if he enjoys gossip, I suppose he does. Talking, as you are well aware, helps to make portrait sessions bearable.’

‘I would not think a man like that would be interested in the social life of someone like Prinny.’

‘Come now, are you truly that jaded? Most everyone is interested in what he does. Manning is like most aspiring portrait artists. He would love to have the cache to say the Prince Regent sat for him. To have his work displayed in a royal residence would be quite the accomplishment.’

‘You have introduced them?’

‘Not yet.’

‘But you plan to?’

‘If the opportunity should present itself, I do not see why I would not. Manning is extremely talented. Surely you can see that from the pieces displayed in his studio? He has even painted Nicholas for me.’

‘I will agree the man possesses talent, however did I not tell you that you were not to sit for him again?’

‘You did.’

A scruffy dog darted out into the road, and Gabriel expertly manoeuvred the phaeton around it. The carriage rocked back and forth on its wheels. ‘If you heard my command, why were you in his studio today?’ He glanced over at Olivia, who was sitting with her hands gripped tightly together.

‘I never agreed to your request.’

‘It was not a request, and you knew that.’ Now he pulled abruptly to a stop as a newsboy ran across the road.

Olivia made an odd sound. ‘I honour my commitments, and I told him I would sit for him.’

‘Now you must tell him you’ve changed your mind.’

‘I cannot do that.’

‘You mean you will not.’ He snapped the reins, making the phaeton go faster.

Her hands moved to grip the seat.

‘Tell him I forbid it,’ he continued.

‘You forbid it?’ she ground out.

Gabriel nodded, glanced down at her hands, and focused his attention back on the road. If she was not wearing gloves, he was certain her knuckles would be white. ‘Why are you so nervous?’

‘I find I do not like sitting this far above the ground.’

He took the reins in one hand and pulled her closer to him. ‘Do you feel safer away from the edge?’

Olivia nodded a fraction of an inch.

‘I will not let any harm come to you.’

Her eyes searched his and everything fell away around them. Then she quickly turned away and watched the people strolling in and out of the shops. ‘You should be looking at the road,’ she advised him.

‘But the view next to me is infinitely more appealing.’ How he wished he could see her face past the rim of her bonnet.

‘The road please,’ she reminded him with a crack in her voice.

It was a good thing they were close to Gunter’s. If he continued to be tempted to stare at her, he was sure to crash into something. They turned onto Berkeley Street, and the trees of the square came into view. ‘We have not settled our discussion,’ he reminded her, searching for a place to park.

‘Yes we have. You do not want me to have my portrait done, and I do.’

‘Just to clarify, I do not want you to have that portrait done for an exhibition.’

‘I realise it is rather bold. However, you’ve seen the preliminary sketch. No one will know it’s me.’

‘Rather bold? It is much too provocative.’ How could she not understand that?

‘If I did not know you better, I would think you were jealous.’

He parked the phaeton along the garden across from the confectioner’s shop. There was nothing he could say to her comment, so he chose not to acknowledge it. ‘What flavour of ice would you care for?’ he asked, purposely changing the subject.

She gave a slight shake of her head. ‘I have no preference. You choose.’

Gabriel studied her passive features. If he selected a flavour she hated, would she turn that into an argument? He addressed the waiter that approached his side of the phaeton. ‘I shall have bergamot ice and Her Grace will have pineapple.’

Olivia’s eyes widened momentarily. He was certain he guessed incorrectly, until she granted him a small smile. ‘How did you know that is my favourite?’

‘You would order it when I would take you here years ago.’

‘I’m surprised you remembered.’

So was he. They sat in silence, Gabriel recalling the times they’d sat under this very tree before their marriage fell apart. When the waiter arrived with their order, Gabriel relaxed and began to enjoy his ice.

‘I never knew you liked bergamot,’ she commented, sliding a delicate spoonful of ice into her mouth.

Gabriel shrugged. ‘I have recently become partial to the taste. Have you ever tried it?’

‘Yes, I found it rather good.’

‘Well, this is mine. Enjoy your pineapple, and next time I will order you bergamot.’ The thought of taking her here again made him grin.

Her forehead wrinkled before she turned away. Now what had he done wrong? He was only teasing her.

For the remainder of their time at Gunter’s neither spoke. They were almost home when Olivia broke the heavy silence that hung over them. ‘Why does it really matter to you if I sit for that portrait? For years you have made it quite clear you have no interest in me. I could have walked through the house in animal skins, and you would not have noticed. Now, you are concerned about a portrait and buying me ice. Why?’

Gabriel turned the phaeton into their drive and with the lift of his hand he dismissed the footman coming down the steps towards them. He faced her, staring into her brown eyes that were flecked with gold. ‘You were the one who told me you never wanted me to touch you again. For five years I have had no notion if you still feel that way, or if you spoke those words in haste and have since regretted them. You would not speak to me, so I had no way of finding out. But the other night when you assumed I would take you with no regard to your comfort... I had no idea your opinion of me was that low.’

She looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head. ‘The day I suffered through hours of birthing pains to have our son, you were with a harlot in her brothel. They searched for you for hours and could not find you. When you finally arrived home, no one had to tell me you were with a woman. I knew. Her scent was all over you. God, I can still smell that cloying perfume. What kind of man do you think that makes you? I believed you when you told me you cared for me.’

‘I did care for you. I still do—’

‘Apparently, not enough. I know what kind of man you are. The entire ton knows what kind of man you are. The very first ball I attended after giving birth to Nicholas I was plagued with pitying looks and whispers behind fans. I was the woman whose husband was bedding another while she was bearing his heir. And that name swarmed around me for weeks. Madame LaGrange. Everyone knew—everyone,’ she said vehemently. ‘Occasionally her name will still drift into conversations around me. Now you buy me ice and fuss over a portrait?’

Hearing Madame LaGrange’s name on her lips made him want to vomit. No one should know of their connection—not even Olivia. And somehow, someone saw him leave her room that day and word spread among the ton like fire through a wheat field in autumn. Even the servants knew. He would not allow anyone to find out that Madame LaGrange worked for him. He had made that mistake once before with Matthew, and it had cost the man his life.

For a moment it was years earlier and Gabriel was back in the garden in Richmond, flashes of lightning were slashing the inky blackness around him, rain poured onto Matthew’s bloodied body that was seeping his life out in Gabriel’s arms, and the last person on earth he thought would betray him was standing over him, pointing a gun at his chest. It had become his reoccurring nightmare ever since.

How could he possibly explain to Olivia that he’d never bedded Madame LaGrange without divulging the woman’s secret? A secret he would take to his grave. No one was ever going to die again because he placed his trust in the wrong person.

The pain dulling her eyes sliced through him. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’

It was all he could say.

She lowered her head, her face now obscured by her bonnet. Although they were married just a few months before Nicholas was born, in that time he had come to care deeply for her. His lies of omission had cost them both.

When she raised her head, he caught the determination in her eyes. ‘If you ever had any kind regard for me at all, you will grant me one thing.’

‘What is it that you want, Olivia?’

‘I want another child.’

That was not what he expected her to say. His thoughts had been on the portrait. ‘Olivia, I’ve always wanted more children with you.’ Now hopefully Nicholas would know what it was like to grow up with a brother or sister.