Page 17 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
“I will startThe Mysteries of Udolphothis evening, though, Grandmother,” she said quickly, hoping to change the subject.
“Don’t fret about it,” Priscilla said, waving a hand in the air. “I know you’ll read it eventually. I’ve never met such an avid reader as you. I’d wager that your love for literature helps you develop your artistic ability. Lord knows it is the only way you can explore the world.”
Arabella wondered whether the duke had explored much of the world. He certainly seemed well-travelled. He had a worldliness about him that told her he’d been on many adventures, a sense of knowing and belonging. He’d certainly experienced a thing or two, and she dreamed that one day he would share it all with her between touches that sent tingles down her spine and kisses that drove her wild with passion.
“I am barely more than a child,” Arabella said with a touch of humour. “I have plenty of time to explore the world in all its glory.”
“Not if your father has his way,” Priscilla muttered.
Arabella sighed. “Perhaps you are right,” she said. “But could we please talk of something a little jollier than my father? It is tiresome enough having to perform at his events.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Priscilla said. “Then let’s discuss yourotherpainting. Are you still working on something in secret?” Her old eyes glittered with secrecy and delight.
Arabella allowed herself a small smile. Her father had long ago forbidden her from ‘wasting her talent’ on painting anything that wasn’t for the Lord’s Society, but she continued anyway, forbidding him in her own silent way. It thrilled her, not least because she much preferred the subject matter. She liked that she had this one thing that was hers and not his—that would never be his.
“Yes, a landscape. You know how much I adore doing those.”
“And so very good you are at them too,” Priscilla said.
“I go out before Father has even risen from sleep,” she said, her voice faraway with wistfulness. “I set up my easel, and I paint what I see in front of me. The trees, the river that runs along the edge of our land, the sky in all its glory. It brings me such joy, Grandmother. I can’t explain it.”
Priscilla smiled fondly at her. “I am so glad you have that, at least, in your life. I can clearly see how happy it makes you.”
“And I’m not rushing it,” she said, her eyes alight with eagerness as she spoke to her grandmother, her spoon hovering over her dish. “Not like the paintings I do for Father that must be completed before the end of the party. No, I want to get this one perfect.”
“I have no doubt that you will,” Priscilla replied, but Arabella had become so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear her.
“One day, I shall be in France,” she said, looking off into the distance as though she could see her future dancing in front of her. “I shall paint the beautiful hills of Provence and drink the best wine in the world. I hear the cheese there is to die for and the people are just lovely.
I shall paint every day, to my heart’s content, and then perhaps sell them to the townsfolk to make a living. And I’ll be free, Grandmother, I’ll be free of all of this.”
She paused, letting the images settling in her mind for a long moment before the smile on her face died away slowly. She looked down at her trifle, brought back to the real world, and she dug her spoon into it. Her dream life would never happen, she knew that. She couldn’t see herself escaping her father’s clutches. The only way she would be free was if he died.Or was removed, somehow.
Priscilla, sensing Arabella’s change in mood, reached across the table and patted her hand. Her wrinkly skin was leathery soft, and it reminded Arabella of how old the woman was becoming.
“That sounds like a beautiful plan, Arabella dear. And worry not, it will happen. We will find a way, no matter what it takes.”
Chapter 9
“So, Ravenswood, how are you finding your first official ball since being sworn in as a member?”
Sebastian turned to find Earl Thomas Pembry behind him, a wide grin across his face and a glass of whisky cradled in both hands.
“I must say, Pembry, you’ve gone all out tonight.”
Indeed, he had. Sebastian looked around at Pembry’s ballroom. He imagined it would make an impressive sight even if it were a society ball, but tonight, it contained every decadent delight he could imagine.
The walls were lined with tables, upon which were rich and exotic foods, from spiced meats to pineapples. Champagne and wine flowed in one corner while footmen and maids stalked the room with trays of whisky, brandy, sherry, and other drinks Sebastian didn’t even recognize.
At the far end of the room, card tables had been set up, where men and women gambled—together and quite openly, money changing hands rapidly and curse words filling the air as people lost their wealth. And between it all, accompanied by dark and sensual music from the string quartet, were near-naked hired dancers, moving their bodies in time to the music, close to each other and the guests.
“Yes.” Pembry looked out over his own party, wearing a proud smile. “I do like to try my best when it’s my turn to host. The Pembry parties are often the best of the season, even if I do say so myself.”
When he had walked in, Sebastian had to stop his mouth from dropping open in surprise. It would have damaged his reputation if anyone thought him anything less than nonchalant and accepting. But the sight really was quite something. For such lavish events to occur outside of theton’s knowledge, Sebastian realized the secret of the Lord’s Society was very well kept.
“And no one in thetonknows of it?” Sebastian asked, prying for whatever information he could.
Pembry shrugged. “There are rumours, naturally. There are always rumours. But they only ever talk of a secret society existing. Nobody knows what actually goes on here, and even our existence is mere conjecture.” He chuckled. “I must admit, I find the rumours rather exciting. I myself have been known to fan a few flames if you will.”
