Page 37 of The Dreaming Beauty
She nodded, and this time she assisted him in his cleanup. Hewasmeticulous, which impressed her. For a man who seemed not to care about anything, she appreciated the attention he gave his passion.
“There. That is enough.” He extended his arm, and Tansy took it. “Let’s gather your aunts and see if we cannot find Marcus, shall we?”
“That isn’t needed.” Tansy didn’t want His Grace to think she had come to her lessons only to see his brother. “We can see him another time.”
“Nonsense. Your aunts asked after him several times when they arrived. He should be back from his estate rounds. Besides, I want to see his face when he sees you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that he wasn’t aware you were coming today.”
“I see.” A wave of unease passed through her middle. Would he be angry to find his brother had kept this detail from him? Would he be disappointed? Would he care at all? Tansy couldn’t imagine him anything but happy or somber, which meant he was not likely to be angry with his brother. She turned the questions over in her mind while the duke greeted her aunts and motioned for them to follow him. They pestered him about Tansy’s progress in her lessons as they walked through the drawing room to the corridor. When they reached the large entrance hall, the duke motioned them toward a door.
Tansy knew that door.
She had escaped to that room the night of the storm.
His Grace threw it open, revealing the library, and propelled her into it. She only briefly registered Marcus at a desk at the end because her eyes were pulled toward a large portrait above the fireplace. She remembered it, but she saw it better now. The kind blue eyes of the man drew her in, and she released the duke’s arm, stepping closer to it.
“Richard!”
Tansy turned to see Aster clutching her throat and staring at the same portrait Tansy had been mesmerized by.
Iris followed their gaze and gasped. “Itishim.”
“Richard?” Tansy looked from her aunts back to the portrait.
“Westmorland VIII.” Mr. Taylor stood and walked around his desk. “You knew him?”
“Knew him?” Aster’s pallor was off, but her voice did not waver. “Yes, I knew him. Not for very long and not as well as some.”
“What is there to know?” His Grace said, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, the codger died before he could make a name for himself. But I dragged this portrait in here from the gallery to remind me not to share the same fate. West-morland IX at least managed to make everyone hate him. Not an ideal form of popularity, to be sure, but at least no one forgot him.” He laughed, but he was the only one.
When no one responded to the duke, Tansy felt she should. “I... I can see how that would motivate a person.” It was a useless phrase, and even now she had a hard time not staring at the portrait. It seemed strange that a pair of kind eyes of a man gone from the world could connect with her in any way.
Marcus stepped closer to Aster. “Are you well?”
“Tired from the heat is all.” Aster reached for Daisy. “Forgive me. We must be going.” She motioned for Iris and Tansy to follow.
Tansy fell into step behind Iris, but Marcus reached her at the door. “I am sorry you must leave so soon.”
“They have been here all morning,” his brother said. “I forgot to tell you, so we had to come find you after the lesson. I’m afraid they did not miss you as I figured they would. It seems they are eager to be home.”
Marcus seemed unaffected, but Tansy wished the duke had not been so flippant with his words. She gave an unsure smile to them both and said a soft goodbye.
She could tell by the guarded expression on her aunts’ faces that now was not the time to press, but there were too many comments she did not understand. Why had Aster and Iris reacted so strongly to the portrait? There was a connection there, or they would not have shown the familiarity to call him by his given name.
Had this Richard hurt them? No, his eyes were too kind; she was certain of it. She paused in her steps. Had one of them loved him? She thought about Aster, knowing she had married young. Tansy’s uncle had died shortly after her own father. And Iris? Her husband had not died like they’d told so many people. He had left her. Though her aunt never spoke of him, Tansy knew it would have been better if he had died instead. Could Richard have been that man who had walked away from Iris, leaving her with so much shame?
The butler held the door open for her, and Tansy pushed through it. What really tore at her insides was wondering if this secret was tied to all the others. Could that man in the portrait have anything to do with her mother?
Her mind whirled as she stepped outside. No carriage stood at the ready for them. Marcus would have seen to it, had he known they were coming, but they had also left in a rush. Iris and Daisy voiced their uncertainty of walking in case a carriage was in the process of being sent for. Aster, on the other hand, plowed down the drive toward the road.
“Aster.” Tansy picked up her skirts and hurried to her side, matching her long stride. “Why did seeing that portrait startle you so?”
“Anyone would be startled after seeing someone they hadn’t seen since their death.”
She shouldn’t push such a sensitive subject, but the urgency to know more overtook her manners. “There’s more to it; I’m sure of it. Does it have anything to do with why you said you lost the right to be at Ashbury Court long ago?”
