Page 26 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

“Oh, you’re here!” she declared with a mischievous smile. “I was just wondering what you were up to when we found the Blackthorn Estate devoid of its beastly occupant!”

“Lady Evelyn!” her grandmother reprimanded her. “You must learn to address your brother properly, especially now that we have arrived in London.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Evelyn Fitzroy released him and bobbed a mocking curtsy. “Your Grace,” she murmured demurely.

“Do refrain from doing that,” he told her. “Quite honestly, it makes me shudder.”

“Well, Grandmama says that my curtsy is absolutely perfect.”

“Perfectly horrid, I should say.”

The two siblings bickered all the way to the parlor while the servants passed by them to carry all of Evelyn and Lady Wellington’s belongings to their respective rooms.

“So, how many young ladies have you terrorized before we arrived?” his younger sister teased, pulling at the ribbons tied under her chin. “It would be quite awkward for me to try to get along with everyone if you have behaved appallingly in Grandmama’s absence, you know.”

“I resent that,” Colin retorted with a frown. “Besides, I have put all of that behind me.”

“How so?” Evie leaned in with a curious look on her face. “You have not gone out and fallen in love, have you?”

Colin smirked at that. It would seem that his younger sister held the same fantasies as every other young lady. While marriages amongst the ton were not particularly ideal, it was his greatest hope that his younger sister would find a most suitable match—a gentleman who would genuinely care for her and not mistreat her at all.

In any case, he had prepared a clause in her dowry that should protect her and the assets she would be bringing into the marriage. He would not have Evie entering into a marriage at a disadvantage like his mother had been.

“What if I tell you that I am now currently betrothed?” he told her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Highly unlikely,” she said with a delicate snort.

“Well, I am.”

His younger sister gaped at him, her jaw falling slack. “To whom?”

He smiled mysteriously at her. “Well, it is a secret for now. We plan to announce our betrothal at Lady Salisbury’s ball tomorrow night. Perhaps if you came along, you will find out with the rest of the ton.”

“Well, about that…” she murmured. “Perhaps we can delay my coming out. Maybe we can delay it for another year or?—”

“You know we cannot afford that,” Colin told her flatly. “We have already delayed longer than what is optimal. For now, it should be to your advantage, giving you an aura of mystery amongst the other debutantes. If we delay it anymore, people will start to talk.”

Evie fell silent, and Colin knew that she was well aware of what the implications were if people did start talking. It would not be good—gossips rarely spoke highly of anyone.

“Your brother is right, you know.” Lady Wellington reached out to her granddaughter and gave her small hand a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, I am quite curious as to who this fortunate young lady is. After all, it does take something special to steal the Duke of Thorns’s heart.”

“It is Blackthorn, Grandmother,” he corrected her with an incensed look.

“Well, it suits you perfectly well,” Lady Wellington replied breezily. “You have persisted in covering your heart with prickly thorns to keep everyone out.”

Evelyn burst into giggles at their grandmother’s words, but Colin did not find it particularly amusing. His grandmother knew more than anyone why he kept talks of matrimony at arm’s length. She, of all people, should have understood.

He stood up unceremoniously with a dark expression on his face. “I have matters of import to attend to. If anybody needs me, I shall be at my study.”

He did not even bother to close the door gently on his way out, slamming it behind him as he stomped back up to his personal haven.

Once he closed the door behind him, he shrugged off his coat and tugged impatiently at his cravat, tossing the lot into a nearby chair. He pushed his sleeves up his forearms as he glared at the empty canvas before him.

Flames, clambering up from the floor… licking at fragile human flesh…

His eyes widened as he reached for his palette and brushes, mixing colors here and there. Broad strokes came first to set the stage. Next, he went in with his finer brushes, adding more detail to the scene in his mind. Shadows playing over naked flesh, bright eyes staring back at him from a sea of flames.

Time seemed to fall away as his brushes swept across the canvas, blending light and shadows wherever they went. He painted as if his very existence depended on the scene he would bring to life, as he often did when he was consumed by inspiration—or emotion.

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