Chapter Nineteen #2
And so Lucinda studied the wall of art on her own.
It was hard for her to concentrate on them when she wanted to go back to her parents.
He must have feelings for her to do something of this scale for her.
Something he knew would mean a lot to her.
Could she marry him and pretend to love him when her heart belonged to Tony?
Was it fair to Lord Dunstan to do so? Could she lay with him as his wife, knowing she would be imagining another man?
Guilt ate at her insides like poison. What kind of person would do such a thing?
Was she such a person? Tears burned behind her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away.
She looked up and saw a picture of a dog.
It looked bright eyed and smiling in that doggish way that Marianne’s dog Sasha often did when she knew she was going for a walk. Yes, this was the one she would pick.
“I have made a decision,” she announced.
The two made their way to her side.
“That one. The dog.”
“Excellent choice. That was my first dog, Bones.”
“Bones?”
“Yes. He loved bones and would carry them around. We would find them everywhere. Behind a sofa or buried in with the carrots. He did make Cook mad at times, but she was the one who gave them to him in the first place.”
Marianne laughed and Lucinda tried to, but the thought of lying to this man who had done such a beautiful thing for her was making her ill.
“She would chase him around the home garden with a broom. If that was meant to scare him off, it did not work. He would come right back. I think he thought it was a rather fun game.”
Lucinda sat and waited, studying her parents, while Marianne indulged herself looking at each framed picture on the wall.
Thankfully, it was soon time to leave with her parents’ miniatures in her reticule.
Her heart heavy with guilt, she let the carriage sway her off to sleep where she dreamed of being a child, running in a manicured garden, while her mother chased her, both of them laughing until they collapsed.
A dream or a memory, she couldn’t say, but it made her happy and when the carriage jerked to a stop she awoke.
Could she marry Lord Dunstan? He had been nothing but gentlemanly. Attentive and intelligent. Everything she could want in a husband. She could not shake the feeling that marrying him would be a mistake.
Perhaps it would be better if she went to live with her grandfather, if he would have her.
They would get to know each other, and he could tell her things about her mother.
About her grandmother. About her family.
She could have what she wanted and maybe one day she would meet another man and her heart would let go of Tony Ashton and she would make a family of her own. In her own time, on her own terms.
It made her feel better to have a plan of sorts if she felt that she did not want to marry. Like a weight lifted off her shoulders, she practically skipped into the house.
Once alone in her room, she pulled the miniatures out of her reticule and went to place them on her dressing table when she noticed that the lock of hair was missing from her mother’s picture.
It was apparent, after she turned it, that the seal was broken.
Stricken, she turned over her father’s picture.
Its seal had been broken too. No! Why would he do such a thing?
Where was her mother’s hair? Why would he need to remove them from their frames?
Her erratic heartbeat caused her to have to sit down.
She needed to calm down. Perhaps he had to for the purpose of the portrait? Pacing around the room for the next half hour did nothing to calm her. She gathered them up and went to find the duke. She hoped he would know enough about art to know if this was a necessary action or plain vandalism.
She searched for him in the library, the parlor, and the garden, but he was nowhere to be found.
Eventually she found the butler who informed her he was in his study and that he was not to be disturbed.
She would have to wait until dinner. She could not.
She went in search of his study and when she found it, her frantic emotions caused her to be reckless and knock on the door.
When she heard his deep voice bid her entry, she rushed in. The room was nothing like what she may have imagined. It was a large room, decorated in dark woods and leather. It had piles everywhere. Books and files and papers tied with ribbon.
He stood as soon as he saw her enter. “Miss Sterling? Is everything all right?”
“Can you look at these?” She shoved the two miniatures towards him.
“Ah, yes, your parents. A handsome couple.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Look at the back.”
He took them from her, a frown between his brows as he looked at her and then the pictures.
“What exactly am I looking for?”
“They have been taken out of the frames, and my mother’s hair is missing.”
“Was not the Earl of Dunstan painting them?”
“Yes, but would it be necessary for him to take them out of the frames to do so?”
“I wouldn’t think so, but he must have had reason.”
“What reason would he have to steal my mother’s hair?” She paced in front of his desk, wringing her hands, and hoped she wasn’t making a mountain out of a molehill.
“I am not sure. Would you like me to enquire on your behalf?”
“I do not know. Am I overreacting?”
The duke took her hand and led her to a chair, went over to a cabinet, and poured a dark liquid into a small glass and passed it to her. “Port. It will calm your nerves.”
She took the glass and tossed it back in one go. The duke raised his eyebrows and then chuckled. “Well, all right then. How do you feel now? Will I have to carry you back to your room a second time in a week?”
“I am sorry about that. And, no, thank you. I feel calmer now.”
“Good. Do you have reason to believe Lord Dunstan would maliciously vandalize your parents’ portraits?”
“No.” Now she felt awful. Dunstan had been nothing but kind and giving towards her.
“Then, can we safely say, he must have had good reason to remove them from their frames for a short time and may have simply forgotten to replace your mother’s hair?”
“I suppose that could have happened.”
“There, then let us send him a note. I am sure he will be most apologetic.”
“If you think so.”
“It will ease our minds, and we will ensure that your mother’s lock of hair is returned to its rightful place.”
“But why would he remove them? There could be no benefit, surely.”
“Artists work in their own ways, my dear Miss Sterling. Who are we to question their methods?”
She took a breath and let her shoulders drop. “You are right, of course.”
He handed her back her parents. “I am sure it is simply a mistake.” He bowed and she bobbed before turning towards the door.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“You are most welcome.”
When she turned to close the door, he was already back behind his desk and writing on a new piece of vellum. Her shoulders ached, and she was exhausted. She made her way back to her room and placed her parents in their spots on her dressing table. The duke would make it right.
Tony sensed trouble when his brother called him to his study. His brother looked grimmer than normal and simply pointed to the chair opposite.
“What have I done now?”
“Well, that depends. Do you have anything you need to confess?”
His throat grew tight at the lie on his tongue. “No!”
“Good. I had a most distraught Miss Sterling in here earlier.”
“Oh?” Shit! Shit! Shit!
“It seems Lord Dunstan has removed her parents from their frames and now her mother’s lock of hair is missing. She came here to ask if it was necessary to remove the frames in order to do the painting.”
“And?”
“I said I wasn’t sure. That I would send a note to Dunstan requesting the lock of hair be returned.”
“All right. Do you want me to deliver this message?”
“Yes, personally, if you please. I want to know why he would take them from their frames in such a manner.”
Tony’s breath stalled. Why had he never thought of doing the same? What if the secret was indeed hidden within the frame of the pictures? And now Dunstan had it. What a fool.
Tony stood and paced the room. “I checked him out. He has nothing suspicious in his past. Other than the art, he is a dull subject. He has never even had a gambling debt or as much as an IOU.” Tony stopped pacing and looked at his brother. “He is too clean, far too squeaky for my liking.”
The duke simply lifted a brow. “You checked him?”
Tony frowned back. “That is what you do when you are sifting through potential husbands for your ward.”
The duke smirked. “Oh, of course.”
“I’ll go and see Dunstan right away. He better have a good reason, or I’ll blacken his eyes so he cannot paint for a month.”
The duke nodded and then waved him out. “Make sure you do it today, before I end up having Mother and Marianne up here too.”
He was going to get to the bottom of it and Dunstan had better have a good excuse.