Page 72 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
He scrambled to his feet. “No, it suggests he’s attempting to become one.”
“Who will this help, Theo?”
“The woman he intends to marry illegally.”
“You don’t know he intends to do that!”
His eyes widened.
She might have been a little too loud.
“Do you want to wake the whole house?” he whispered.
“No.” She walked to the desk and snapped the drawing down. “Just one particular person.” She strode for the door.
But before she could open it, he caught her arm, whirled her around. “Cordelia, please, listen to me. Let me explain.”
She stopped, she waited.
“Drew’s governess, Miss Carter, she’s a reliable source. She lived here, teaching Pentshire’s sister. She quit because of the marriage, because it was hidden, because she feared the reasons behind the subterfuge. And others left upon the marriage, as well. She says Pentshire’s mother and sister left as well, refusing to live in the same house as the scandal.”
“Discover his reasons, Theo. They must be pressing if he willingly alienated his family.”
“I’ve poked into every corner of this house, of Pentshire’s life. Into his closets and spare boots, into his not-well-hidden drawers and his cupboards and his wine cellar. He is as pristine as he looks. But for this house party, and even this is not much to make the ton gasp. Not much more scandalous than those my father and mother hosted each year. Perhaps more mistresses, but they are either well-known liaisons or partnerships that hurt no one, like Armquist and Mrs. Bexford. And even his own ‘mistress’ is hiswife.”
“You will hurt Miss Mires.Lady Pentshire.” Cordelia pointed at the desk. “Thatwill hurt her. And you are worried about a woman you do not know, that might not even exist? A hypothetical marriage prospect for a man already married?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “The cartoon may well help Miss Mires. If she is in a difficult spot, if she is not here by choice, then—”
“Have you seen how she looks at him? And him, at her?”
His chin jerked to the side as his mouth twisted. He’d seen it, too, then. Heknew.
“Acting,” he said, apparently happy to ignore what he’d seen, what he knew. “Pretending. Like—”
“Us?” She pulled her arm out of his grasp.
“Hell. No, not like us.” He growled. “You cannot see the truth around you, Cordelia! You insist on believing the best of everyone and letting them continue to ruin things. Why? Why do you let them hurt you, hurt others, without rescinding your good will?”
“Because doubting people constantly is a misery, Theo! One must only look at you to see that. If I always trust, you never do. And do you think that suspicion is without a harmful edge? Ha. In the end, you will be just as careless of others as your father was, but in a different way. Being doubted is a misery, too. It sets you apart, isolates you. Promise me you will not do anything with that drawing until you know for sure. Until you have their wedding license in hand and a witness, their signatures in a registry. Until, even, Pentshire shows up in London courting other women.”
“I can’t promise that. I won’t.”
“Why?” She walked backward on numb feet until her back hit the door with athunkthat rattled her bones.
“Because what willwedo then? You and I? If I wish to sell my art, I must make art that sells. And scandal sells; the unexpected sells. I live with my sister. I make a living, and my family, other than a room to keep me dry, cannot support me. I will not ask them to support a wife. I want you to have your school. And that drawing can get it for you. Cruikshanks makes quite a good living off his drawings. And Thomas Rowlandson. Think of it, Cordelia. I can give you everything you need with that.” He reached for her hands, held them gently in his own, and closed his eyes. “It will be the start of a career for me and a life for us.”
“You wish to buy our future with lies?”
He squeezed her hands, dropped them, his eyes flying open. “Not lies.”
“You don’t know that. You will not ask, will you?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot divulge my identity.” He held his palms out flat. “You must understand that.”
“Do you evenwantto know the truth?” She groped for the door handle behind her and twisted it, slipped into the hall, hoping to hear an answer. But the door closed behind her, its click the only sound in the heavy darkness.
She found her room and bed and lay on top of the covers, her muscles too numb to pull them back, to climb under.
