Page 21 of Captivating the Countess
“You’re jealous that I haven’t asked you to sit for me.” He set up his easel and checked his pencils.
“You used to paint Estelle all the time,” Lady Delahey reminded him. “I have one of your sketches of her at home. Did you sell them all?”
“Back then—to her suitors, of course.” Teddy didn’t look the least fazed by the accusation. “My allowance wasn’t nearly enough to keep me in paint and canvas.”
“You won’tsellthis sketch?” Bell asked, alarmed. “I do not wish my countenance on a stranger’s wall!”
“He’s hoping Rain will pay a pretty price for it.” Alicia sat back with her list and waved it at her older sisters. “Any names I should add or subtract?”
“Then you will be disappointed,” Bell told the artist. “I thought I was helping you connect with a spirit.”
“You are. You’ll see. It’s seldom helpful, mind you, but if I capture the phantom on paper, they sometimes go away. And sometimes the person sitting... It’s hard to explain. They make realizations or decisions as if the spirit is finally reaching them through the veil to give advice or warnings.”
Bell grimaced and attempted to sit still as instructed. She watched as the sisters and their spouses passed around Alicia’s house party list and made additions or subtractions. They knew a great many people. Bell knew none.
Or so she thought until Rain entered, snatched the guest list from Alicia, and perused it. He set it on the mantle, brought out a pencil, and crossed out the first one. “Cross-eyed and bad-tempered.” He continued working through the list with comments like, “Won’t leave her mother, likes to gamble, has the sense of a pea goose...”
He held off Alicia’s attack with one arm as he continued through the list of unmarried ladies.
“There is nothing wrong with Miss Macleod,” his sister cried, smacking at his hand. “And Lady Emma is a lovely person and my friend.”
“Susan Macleod?” Bell asked. “About my age?”
Alicia turned to her eagerly. “Exactly, of the Malcolm Macleods. She is a bit of a bluestocking...”
“But a very sweet person,” Bell agreed. “I went to school with her. Who else is on that list that he’s so viciously maligning?”
Alicia snatched it away and handed it over. Her handwriting wasn’t wonderfully legible and even less so with pen scratching through it, but Bell managed to recognize one or two more names from her English boarding school. “Even if they are not eligible as marchionesses, they are very nice people, and would make a good addition to any guest list.”
“Ha!” Alicia glared at her brother. “At least someone recognizes good character.”
“Explain to my sister that good character is not the only thing a man wishes to find at his breakfast table.” The marquess poured himself a drink.
“That is extremely rude, Rainford. Go back to your playpen and let us manage the guests.” Lady Delahey hugged Alicia and they returned to the table to repair the list.
But Bell gathered the gist of his warning. He wasn’t interested inbeddingany of those ladies. She didn’t dare tell Alicia that her brother had a very high opinion of himself. He was entitled to that opinion. The marquess was a striking man with a level of intelligence beyond most. Along with the power of his position and his wealth, he should be able to have any woman in the kingdom.
He’d look for one who would produce an heir, of a certainty. Had the list contained any Ives ladies? She didn’t know any except a few of the married ones.
Thankfully, the dinner bell rang.
Rain crossed the room to where Bell sat and offered his arm. “Precedence, my lady.” He glared at his sisters. “Alicia, you can go in with Teddy this evening.”
“You should seat yourself among the men and leave the ladies to the other end of the table,” Bell murmured as she took his arm and followed him to the dining room. “Your sisters are not about to leave you alone.”
“They’ve always meddled,” he said dismissively.
“They love you and want you to be happy,” she corrected.
“Marriage will not necessarily make me happy.”
“Agreed.” She took her seat and said no more. Her mother’s second marriage had made everyone miserable. Bell was still paying for that disaster.
Rain spentthe next week ignoring the house party preparations and trying to forget the mutual experiment in healing. The brief snowstorm and accompanying ice brought a series of broken bones to tend. He persuaded the duke to peruse all their volumes on anything that could be causing the countess’s fainting spells. The list wasn’t long and not particularly useful.
And he spent an agonizing hour or more composing a letter to Gerard, Earl of Ives and Wystan, inquiring how he and his wife had developed Gerard’s new ability to see history on old stones.
If Rain were to hold Lady Craigmore’s hand again, he wanted to have good reason. Perhaps it was proximity making him too aware of her, but he caught himself watching for the countess around every corner. That simply wouldn’t do. She was just another petticoat and a totally unsuitable one at that. So he stayed busy.
