Why her fearful eyes and exquisite care for him when he’d nigh been felled by those barrels?
Why such vagueness over Mr Locksley. Was he pure fabrication? And if so, why?
Too manyWhys.
Their kiss had seemed to ruffle her enough at the fair so perhaps that was the path to the truth…as long as he could keep firm control of his own desires.
Scrubbing a hand over his chin, Miles paced for the mantelpiece and scowled into a mirror above. Since arriving in London, all had been a damn hubbub of disorder and that made him grouchy: the mishaps. Verity Seymour. This damn artist.
Which was why he was waiting in the library of this duke known to be The Witness’ patron.
“My lord?” The butler cleared his throat from the doorway. “His Grace can see you now.”
With a nod, Miles followed the pristine coat-tails from the library and down the corridor, past a grand carved staircase andtowards an oak door. A brief knock and the butler pushed it inwards. “Lord Stonewold, Your Grace.”
Miles strode forth and wondered if the hearsay on the Duke of Rothwell would prove to be correct.
Ruthless. Brusque. Aloof. Not one to suffer fools.
The flawlessly dressed duke who rose from behind an immense walnut desk certainly gave that impression. Tall, broad-shouldered, around the age of thirty and with a palpable air of command, he would have suited the army.
Gossip rags referred to him asThe Duke of Diamonds– for his wealth, gem mines and, perhaps, the bloody great stone affixed to his finger.
The duke’s dark-blue gaze held steady, composed and inscrutable as they shook hands.
“Do sit, Stonewold. Brandy?”
“A small one, perhaps. And my thanks for meeting on such short notice, Your Grace.”
A nod and the duke strode to the decanters. “How is an earldom after the dragoons?”
It appeared the duke had investigated Miles’ background also.
“Like a pair of too-new boots, to be truthful.” He accepted the proffered brandy and they both sat. “The fit is…easing but quite a few issues still chafe. As a lad, I attended the same lessons as my elder brother but I admit ledgers did not hold my attention. My elder brother had no choice as he would inherit, whereas I was allowed to pursue other endeavours.”
“Botanical endeavours?”
The duke had indeed been thorough.
“Yes. When the earldom allows, I hope to organise an expedition to discover new plants. Perchance in the Americas.”
“Balancing a title with such diversions is no simple feat but I daresay you’ll accomplish all you wish to.” Rothwell sipped hisbrandy with a contemplative expression. “You are not here to discuss botany though but art, as your message suggested?”
Miles surveyed the paintings on the study wall, thought one rural scene to be a Constable. “Yes. I’m curious to know more of the artist known as The Witness. I believe you are his patron?”
The duke’s eyes flicked to the study door. “I have that honour, yes, and I can quite understand your curiosity.”
“Indeed. I seem to be a subject in the ones I’ve seen, of which I am flattered, but I cannot help but wonder who this artist is. How he does it. So many of the scenes are real, too accurate to be mere invention.”
Expression unreadable, Rothwell sat back. “Someone from the dragoons, you believe?”
“I do, but on the other hand…” Miles breathed in the fine brandy aroma. “I’ve also established, and I hope you will confirm, that these works were created and sold whilst we were on the Peninsula. They were in galleries here in London.” He frowned. “None of us could smuggle in warm stockings, let alone smuggle out a rolled-up bloody canvas.”
The duke steepled his fingers. “Stonewold, I appreciate the reason for your visit but unless you can tell me this causes you harm in some way, I am not at liberty to disclose the answers you seek. The agreement between patron and artist is founded upon complete trust, which, in this instance, includes the artist’s wish for anonymity. My hands are tied. I can tell you, however, the artist considers you a most brave and worthy soldier.”
Miles snorted. “I am not so conceited as to think there is anything different about me from any other soldier in His Majesty’s Service.”
“I beg to differ.” The duke swirled the brandy in his glass. “You are spoken of most highly.”
