Page 32 of The Design of Dukes (The Beautiful Barringtons 2)

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“Aren’t you even going to guess?” Romy said to Theo as Lady Mildred contorted her angular body, jerking wildly before the guests gathered in the drawing room. “Or can’t you see what she is desperately attempting to pantomime?”

“Spasm? Seizure?”

Romy laughed discreetly into the palm of her hand. “I would have guessed apoplexy. I detest charades. Phaedra is the only one of us who has ever been any good at this game. So, did you converse further with Blythe?”

“You mean after I made a cake of myself and ruined Lord Haven’s coat? No. Nor at dinner. Poor Lucy Waterstone required all my attention. She speaks quietly so as not to offend anyone with her lisp, which makes carrying on a conversation with her challenging. I find the lisp hardly noticeable the longer you speak to her. But her father has made much of the impediment, blaming it for her lack of husband.”

“Having Mr. Waterstone as a father-in-law has much more to do with her lack of husband than anything else. I fared much better. My dinner companion was Mr. Estwood,” Romy said. “A most interesting gentleman, to say the least.”

“Would youcallhim a gentleman?” Theo made a show of shielding her eyes as Lady Mildred became tangled in her skirts while trying to give the clue. “Oh, dear. Mildred’s legs are quite exposed from her thrashing. Why doesn’t someone put a stop to this?”

“He’s a bit rough around the edges.” Romy found Mr. Estwood nothing short of intriguing, especially when his upper crust accent slipped, as it had during a rather impassioned recital of a trip to Egypt he’d taken. Estwood was fascinated by everything old. People. Pottery. Jewelry. Weapons.

“But he’s highly intelligent,” she continued. “I know he’s a businessman, though I’m not sure exactly what sort of business he engages in. Mr. Estwood’s true passion seems to be archaeology.”

“Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised, Theo. He spoke at dinner of stopping his coach on the journey here to examine a rock which may have contained a fossil of some sort. I believe everyone noted his interest.”

“I only meant it makes more sense to me now, his friendship with Granby. Haven’t you noticed that Granby has filled this place with antiquities? The frescoes are Roman. Perhaps that is how they became friends—through a shared mutual interest.”

It was true. The Barrow resembled a cold pile of cut stone from the outside, but the interior was filled with all sorts of treasures. The paintings in the drawing room alone were surely worth a small fortune, based on the way the Foxwoods reacted to them.

“The Foxwoods seemed impressed,” Romy whispered, shielding her eyes from Lady Mildred, who was now twisting her arms about.

“As they should be. I’m fairly certain there are several Caravaggios hanging on these walls. The one closest to the window—”

“The one depicting a satyr?” The painting, while beautiful, gave off a bleak, joyless feeling. Romy had noticed it immediately.

“Is by Gentileschi,” Theo finished. At Romy’s look of confusion, her sister gave a tight shake of her head, frustrated at Romy’s lack of knowledge in regard to Italian artists. “Artemisia Gentileschi? Mama has studied her works. She isn’t at all popular, at least if you are collecting Italian art, which Granby appears to do. Gentileschi is not what a typical duke would have in his home. Such angry brush strokes. And she’s a woman. Most unusual.”

Theo was also a female artist, though she tended to focus solely on miniatures. She’d done only one full-size portrait. Romy thought she needed to branch out.

“Estwood’s interest seems confined to items of the archaeological variety, not art. Apparently, there is a site of moderate historical significance nearby for which Granby’s estate was named. We’re to have a picnic there. A series of barrows where bits of weaponry have been found.”

“Sounds dreadfully boring.” Theo gave a deep sigh. “I’ve little interest in barrows and the bones they may hold.” She discreetly glanced at Haven, who was wearing an expensive coat the color of burnt toast, probably borrowed as it didn’t quite fit him and appeared far too fine to be his. “I feel as if I should purchase poor Haven a new coat. Look, he’s had to wear one of Blythe’s.”

“A terrible idea, Theo. And one that would only serve to remind him of his financial difficulties. It would make him angry, I think.” Haven didn’t strike Romy as the sort of man who would appreciate such a gesture.

“I know, but I do feel awful I ruined his coat. How was I to know the glass I broke contained a healthy amount of ratafia? The stains will never come out. I tried to apologize, but he only glared at me and stomped away. Incredibly rude. Blythe told me not to be concerned.” She looked across the room at the Earl of Blythe who stood, handsome and solid, against the far wall, conversing with Lady Meredith Clare and her aunt. “I suppose I will try to gain Blythe’s interest tomorrow on the lawn. We’re to play bowls.”

“How are you going to play bowls if you can’t see? Really, Theo. If Blythe finds you attractive, he will do so whether you are wearing spectacles or not. I don’t see why it should matter. Granby even asked me if you had an affliction of some sort.”

“I thought you were avoiding Granby.” A tiny smile crossed Theo’s face. “Oh, but he followed you into the gardens.”

Romy bit her lip. “How would you know? You can’t see well enough from such a distance.”

“Oh,Ididn’t see you, Romy. Blythe mentioned going to enjoy a cheroot and said quite distinctly,‘I think I will join your sister and Granby, though I hate to interrupt their conversation.’

Romy’s fingers plucked at the fold of her skirt. “He was checking to ensure I didn’t become lost in his massive gardens. Nothing more. Something any polite host would do, even Granby. Really, Theo, the man isn’t the least amusing and lacks even the basic tenets of a pleasing personality.”

“Yet he was concerned for your welfare. Shall I tell you what else Blythe said?”

Romy wasn’t sure she wished to hear it. “Go on.”

“‘Perhaps they aren’t conversing, and your sister is sketching Granby’s backside again.’ He drifted off before I could question him further. So howdidyou meet Granby? And don’t tell me it was at a ball or the opera, especially with Blythe claiming you were drawing.”

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