Page 15 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
Chapter 5
Icannot believe in all these years you have not invited me to visit your London residence.”
It was mid-afternoon. Westcliffe had been studying reports in his office when his butler had announced that the Duchess of Ainsley had arrived. He didn’t trust her visit any more than he trusted his wife, who was sitting in a chair beside his mother and preparing tea.
“You’re my mother,” Westcliffe stated succinctly, standing by the fireplace, refusing to be drawn into the unfamiliar tableau. He’d had few visitors to his residence. It was a place to sleep, eat, and work. Nothing more. “Surely an invitation is not required.”
“Of course it is. How is one to know that one is welcomed?”
Westcliffe darted his gaze to the man lounging casually on the sofa. He suspected Leo was his mother’s latest lover. He was tall and slender, with graceful hands and the face of an Adonis. He seemed much too angelic for his mother. Turning his attention back to her, he said, “You are always welcome in my residences.”
“I shall keep that in mind.” Winking at Claire, she took the offered cup of tea. That didn’t bode well. His mother had a tendency to be conniving, and Claire’s reaction more than his mother’s alerted him that some sort of conspiracy was afoot. “I’m here on a rather urgent matter. You’ve been married all of three years, and you have yet to have your wedding portrait made.”
He ground his back teeth. “I didn’t see the point in having it done.”
“Of course there is a point, dear boy. It is family tradition to have a portrait of every earl and countess made shortly after they are married. For posterity’s sake.”
“I don’t recall your ever caring about the earl. What do you care of his posterity?”
“The previous earl, no. The present earl, yes. Why would you ever think otherwise?”
Before he could respond, his mother turned to Claire. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to take Leo on a tour of the rooms, so he can determine where the best lighting can be found.”
Claire appeared startled before rising to her feet. “Yes, of course.”
Westcliffe watched the young man follow his wife from the room. He was tempted to go after them, but what did he care if Claire was alone with a man? He didn’t. The time for such caring was past. Instead, he glared at his mother. “What are you about?”
“I told you. You need to have your portrait done.”
“And I told you there is no point. I intend to have this farce of a marriage brought to a legal end.”
“My God. Do you have any idea of the scandal—”
“Don’t be a hypocrite, Mother. If our family is known for nothing else, it is known for its unconventional flouting of societal rules. Your own scandals make mine seem paltry in comparison.”
He knew she couldn’t deny the charges, and she didn’t even try. Rather she arched a dark brow. “And what of Claire? Is she aware of this plan of yours that will bring shame and humiliation to your doorstep?”
“No.”
“I see. So it’s true then. Lady Anne Cavil has won your heart.”
He considered lying, considered claiming to be madly in love with Anne, but the truth was that he felt nothing for anyone. “I have no heart to be won, and well you know it. But Anne suits me.”
“Well, then, what more is there?”
But the icy tone of her voice set his teeth on edge. He watched warily as his mother rose, graceful as ever. She approached him, then proceeded to brush some lint from the shoulder of his jacket. Finally, she lifted her eyes to his. They were dark—brown—but his were darker still, his had come from the man who’d sired him.
“I gave you so little love growing up. I couldn’t separate you from your father, and I despised him. For whatever pain I caused you, I’m sorry. But it is not like you to be hurtful. Surely you can give Claire another chance to be your wife.”
“Is that the reason you’re here? To speak on her behalf? If so, you’re wasting your breath, and I would beg you not to interfere.”
“I’m here to see about having your portrait done.” She tilted her head slightly. “And because Claire invited us for dinner.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re meddling.”
“I’ve ignored you for a good part of your life. Don’t you think it’s time?”
Before he could answer, the painter walked back into the room. “I found the perfect lighting. I’m going to gather my materials from the carriage. Will you help the countess select an appropriate gown?”
