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“Yes, indeed.” He puffed out his chest. “I like the exercise. Keeps me youthful. And where is Lady Penelope, if I might enquire?”
“She’s gone ahead to greet the Duke of Wakefield.”
Artemis bent to lift up Bon Bon and the little dog sighed as if in gratitude. When she rose the Duke of Scarborough’s eyes were narrowed. She turned to look where he was gazing. Penelope was leaning close to Wakefield and smiling up at him as she let him kiss her hand.
Scarborough caught Artemis’s curious stare and his expression relaxed into another cheery smile. “Always did like a challenge. May I?”
He took the nécessaire from her hand and offered his arm.
“Thank you.” She laid her fingertips on his arm, reminded again of why she rather liked the elderly duke. In her other arm, Bon Bon laid his little chin on her shoulder.
“Now Miss Greaves,” he said as he led her slowly toward the front doors, “I’m afraid I have an ulterior motive in seeking you out.”
“Do you, Your Grace?”
“Oh, yes.” His eyes twinkled at her merrily. “And I think you’re a bright enough lass to have an inkling of what it is. I wonder if you might tell me the sort of things your cousin likes most in the world.”
“Well…” Artemis glanced at her cousin as she thought about the matter. Penelope was laughing prettily at something the Duke of Wakefield had said, though Artemis noted that the gentleman himself wasn’t smiling. “I suppose she likes the same sort of things most ladies do: jewels, flowers, and beautiful objects of all kinds.” She hesitated, biting her lip, then shrugged. It wasn’t as if it were a secret, after all. “Beautiful, expensive objects.”
The Duke of Scarborough nodded vigorously as though she’d imparted some wonderful wisdom. “Indeed, indeed, my dear Miss Greaves. Lady Penelope should be showered with all that is most lovely. But is there anything else you might tell me? Anything at all?”
They were nearly to the portico and on impulse Artemis ducked her head to murmur, “What Penelope really adores is attention. Pure, undivided attention.”
The Duke of Scarborough just had time to wink and say, “You’re a marvel, Miss Greaves, truly you are.”
And then they were climbing the steps to where the Duke of Wakefield stood with Penelope beside him.
“Your Grace.” Wakefield’s bow was curt enough to nearly be insulting. His cold eyes flicked between Scarborough and Artemis and one corner of his mouth crimped. “Welcome to Pelham House.” He merely glanced at a waiting footman and the man promptly stepped forward. “Henry will show you to your rooms.”
“Thank you, sir!” The Duke of Scarborough grinned. “A nice little house you have here, Wakefield. I confess it quite puts my own country seat, Clareton, to shame. Of course I’ve recently built a music room at Clareton.” Scarborough’s eyes widened innocently. “Pelham hasn’t been updated since your dear father’s time, has it?”
If Wakefield was bothered by the rather obvious jab, he didn’t show it. “My father had the south facade on the opposite side of the building rebuilt, as I’m sure you remember, Scarborough.”
Artemis realized with a start that Scarborough was of an age to have been a contemporary of Wakefield’s father. What did Wakefield feel, welcoming his father’s friend to his home? Seeing what his father might’ve looked like had he lived? She examined Wakefield’s face. Nothing at all, if one were to go by his expression.
For a moment the Duke of Scarborough’s face softened. “Had all those windows put in to overlook the garden for your mother, didn’t he? Mary always did like her gardens.”
It was slight, but Artemis thought she saw a muscle tic underneath the Duke of Wakefield’s left eye. For some reason the small reaction prompted her into speech. “What sort of instruments have you in your new music room, Your Grace?”
“I confess, none at all.”
Artemis blinked. “You haven’t any musical instruments in your music room?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point in it?” Penelope asked rather irritably, joining the conversation for the first time. “ ’Tisn’t a music room without musical instruments.”
Scarborough looked suspiciously crestfallen. “Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought of that, my lady. I confess I was so interested in hiring the most talented Italian artist to paint the murals on the ceiling, finding the best imported pink marble, and making sure that the workmen used enough gold to gild the walls and ceiling that I forgot all about the musical instruments themselves.”
Lady Penelope turned, almost as if against her will, to the Duke of Scarborough. “Gold…”
“Oh, quite.” Scarborough leaned forward earnestly. “I do think one shouldn’t stint on gilding, don’t you? Makes one look so damnably frugal.”
Penelope’s perfect pink lips parted. “I—”
“And now that you’ve pointed out my folly in neglecting actual instruments for the music room, perhaps you could give me your opinion.” Somehow Scarborough had tucked Penelope’s hand into the bend of his elbow. “For instance, I’ve heard that Italian clavichords have the best sound, but I confess I do enjoy the look of some of the French painted ones, even if they cost nearly double the Italian. I think in some ways taste should precede art, don’t you?”
Scarborough turned and guided Penelope into the house as she answered. He was so adroit that Artemis wondered if her cousin even realized she was being managed. She glanced at the Duke of Wakefield, expecting him to be frowning after the odd couple, and she was indeed right about one thing: he was frowning.
