“Oh.” Belatedly, Sebastian realized his sleeve had risen when he’d raised his arm. “Not a forward question; it’s right here where everyone can see it. It’s my cousin’s artwork.”
Nora looked intrigued. “You come from interesting family.”
Sebastian and Nora came from the same family, if you went back to the fifteenth century, but he only nodded. “I am very lucky to have them.”
Nora smiled. “Enough of my uncle’s choices; come seemyfavorite of the paintings.”
As they walked past Geoffrey and the glass case, Sebastian faked a cough. Geoffrey looked up, and Sebastian meaningfully jerked his head. “Don’t you want to come see Lady Nora’s favorite painting?” he said pointedly.
“Oh!” Geoffrey said. “Yes, yes, I do,” he added, hurrying to catch up with them.
Nora led them to the end of the hall and stopped in front of a larger painting. It was a forest scene, a woman in the foreground with robes flowing loose around her knees and a quiver across her chest. In the background, several women played in a stream. “Artemis!” Geoffrey said, sounding proud of himself for recognizing her. “I’m surprised she’s your favorite, Lady Nora, if you don’t like hunting.”
“It is perhaps ironic,” Nora admitted, “but she’s so beautiful and free. Who wouldn’t want to run off with her?”
“Not if I have to shoot things with arrows,” Sebastian said ruefully.
Nora shot him a grin. “Perhaps you can run off with Aphrodite, then. She’s just here—no hunting, only hedonism.”
Sebastian glanced at the next painting, a woman in the ocean, long tresses strategically covering her nakedness. “Very beautiful,” he admitted. “She favors the Botticelli work.”
Nora swept her hand toward the open doors at the far end of the room. “If you have any interest in artwork from that time, we have portraits of the first Duke of Valemount and his wife.”
The three of them stepped into the gallery. Again, the walls were lined with art, but Lady Nora was leading the way to the far end. “Here he was,” she said, indicating a painting on wood, of a white man with an ear-length brown bob under a wide-brimmed red hat, dressed in a gold-embroidered doublet and black cape. The display tag on the wall beside the portrait had at least nine names. “And that was his wife, a Spanish countess before she became the duchess.”
And just like that, Sebastian was staring at a painting of his own distant aunt.
“Mariana de Leon.” Nora was still gazing at the portraits. “Such a beauty, wasn’t she? Such style.” The corners of her lips turned up. “Actually, I fancy she might look a bit like you.”
Sebastian eyed his aunt. The countess wore several pieces of jewelry—including a distinctive wrist cuff, set with jewels, that Sebastian had seen drawn in his family’s books. Had the countess transferred her magic into the cuff already, when this portrait was painted? Was he looking at the relic that had held her ability to cast curses?
“Lady Nora,” the Marchioness of Thornton called, from the gallery behind them. “You must come tell us more about Aphrodite!”
Nora glanced back toward the gallery, shaking her head fondly. “Excuse me,” she said. “Unless you care for more art history?”
“I will catch up with you two,” Sebastian promised. He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Your Spanish ancestor intrigues me.”
As Nora’s and Geoffrey’s steps retreated behind him, Sebastian stepped closer to the portrait of the duke. And there it was, hanging from a gold chain around his neck in the painting: the medallion that had eventually held the duke’s tracking magic.
Had both of them been painted with their relics? Then what had happened to the relics, after Sebastian’s inquisitor ancestor came after them? Had their altercation happened here, at the site of the Valemounts’ ancestral home? Was this where Sebastian’s own family curse had been cast?
Sebastian’s gaze stole back to his distant aunt, the inquisitor’s sister. Lord Valemount’s words about his brother echoed in his mind.
Damn fool way to go. Alfred should have known to keep the safety on.
Wesley had said the prior Duke of Valemount’s death had been substantiated by a doctor. Surely it was too much of a stretch to think that doctor could have been Dr. Wright? But Lord Valemount was close enough to Dr. Wright to send him to America with Nora. A doctor could have substantiated the story behind Alfred Fairfield’s death, could have helped facilitate the transfer of Hyde to a less secure facility, could have snuck into a New York mental hospital and poisoned Alasdair. Lord Valemount had been missing the prior night and through the day. Could he have been with Dr. Wright that day?
There was one place on the grounds where no guests were currently allowed. And if you wanted to hide a guest, a guest house was a good place for it.
Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. The women were in the gallery, gushing with each other about the art, while Geoffrey was focused on Nora. Lord Valemount himself was occupied, playing cards with Wesley and the other men.
No one was paying any attention to Sebastian.
As quietly as he could, he slipped out the door of the gallery.
Chapter Nineteen
Valemount’s billiard room was even more ornate than the one at Thornton’s country manor, Beckley Park, had been. It was decorated in hunting trophies and in addition to the billiards table also sported a large round card table surrounded by velvet chairs.
