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“Please understand me. I am not in a position right at this moment to say what my heart is pleading for me to say, but I do want you to know of my feelings.”
“Why can you not say it now?” She felt like crying with frustration.
“First there is something very important I must do. Do not look so sad.” He tilted her chin up with his forefinger and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “It can wait one more day. I should not have said what I did but you make me forget myself. You see, this is not the first time I’ve said it, is it? I am utterly mad for you, my darling girl.”
He offered his arm and reluctantly Araminta laid her hand upon it as they turned back toward the house. A gentle sun now bathed the damp lawn in a faded yellow light, warming his face as he smiled down at her.
“Tomorrow, I will see you. Tomorrow, I will ask you what I hope is the question you anticipate. And that you will give me the answer I wish to hear.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ralph was glad he would only be in Little Nipping for one night. Every couple of months he made the journey with Debenham who went to oversee his landholdings. On this occasion, Ralph had gone up ahead in a hired chaise. His Lordship was due to ride up later in the day.
Now, hunched over his desk in the overseer’s office, Ralph dipped his quill into the inkwell for more hated letter-writing. He was glad he did not have to put his own name to half of his employer’s correspondence, but increasingly he detested being a party to Debenham’s business dealings. The time had almost come when, despite several salary increases, he could no longer do this.
Generally, Lord Debenham left him to his own devices, satisfying himself with terse enquiries as to Ralph’s progress or tossing a sheaf of correspondence upon his desk with instructions on how he should expedite certain matters on his irregular visits.
But this afternoon, Lord Debenham strode into Ralph’s office, slammed the door behind him, paused, waiting for Ralph to acknowledge him, and when he did not, brought his fist down hard upon the surface close to where Ralph was working. The vibration caused a spattering of ink and Ralph jerked his head up in surprise.
“Don’t you glower at me!” His Lordship cried. “Not when I’m travel-stained and weary but fearing I may have to ride poste-haste home. First of all, what’s this business you’ve engaged in with my tenants that threatens to stall the eviction process?”
For a moment, Ralph was at a loss. “The notices have all been served, my lord.” Bad business all over, he thought. God, he hated this work.
“You sent a shilling to Rogers, and now he’s blessing me for my kindness. It’s got the wind up the rest of them, who are no longer convinced their Lucifer of a landlord has no mercy in him. Which of course he has not. Now all of them are dragging their heels because they’re under the illusion I have some soft spot that might be tapped!”
Ralph held up his hand so he could voice his protest. “My lord, I met Rogers last year, and his family, personally. How could I not do something? The youngest child is dying and needs medicine. A shilling was, I think—”
“I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to carry out my orders! Rogers believes I sent the money. But more to the point, what do you know about a sketch drawn of me at Vauxhall Gardens, which I neither commissioned nor authorized? Tell me that!”
Ralph was so taken aback at the turn in the conversation he didn’t know what to say? “A sketch?” he finally managed, hoping his dry throat didn’t give him away.
“Are you deaf? Yes, a sketch, that’s what I said. A sketch of me with two miscreants I’d liefer not be associated with. It’s all a lie, of course. Someone’s out to tar me with the same brush as two felonious suspects with Spencean leanings. Not something I’d be involved with, that’s to be sure. And now I’ve been depicted in their midst. A party to their plotting is what it’s meant to look like! Yes, well, you look suitably horrified, that’s good. But what are you going to do about it?”
Ralph carefully laid down his quill and leaned back in his chair. Lord Debenham was frequently bullying, all too often demanding and unreasonable, but this was the first time Ralph detected real fear in his employer’s face. He shook his head. “I’m afraid this is the first I’ve heard of any sketch.”
“Then tell me who has made a name for depicting a face so full of character there is no one who does not instantly recognize the subject?”
Ralph hoped he did not betray himself by the waves of fear that made him glad he was sitting down. He dropped his eyes as he reached for his quill, simply for something to occupy his shaking hand. “I cannot say, my lord.”
“There’s a name. I agreed that the fellow could do a drawing of me at some garden party. A piece of vanity. A bit of fun at the time. And it was an excellent sketch, I grant you. But I don’t recall his name, though he was quite the dandy. You surely remember it?” he insisted. “You’ve been about more than usual for you. Tell me where I can locate him so I can make him admit he falsified the drawing, that he was bribed by my enemies. By
God, I’ll make him sorry!”
Ralph furrowed his brow as he forced himself not to react with either defensiveness or fear. “I do recall this artist who is making his name doing commissions,” he said slowly. “Though I had not heard of a sketch commissioned of yourself, my lord.”
“Well, one has been commissioned, and I need to find out who executed it and who ordered it!”
Ralph wasn’t about to mention Sir Archibald Ledger, who’d bought the sketch for such a huge sum. Of course he should have known there was more to the transaction than appeared to be the case.
Lord Debenham pounced. “You do know. Who is it?”
Quickly, Ralph tried to consider a range of ramifications for various answers. Of course, if Debenham discovered he’d deliberately withheld information it would be bad for him. And if Ralph did not tell him, Debenham would easily find out the information, elsewhere. With a sigh, he supplied an answer that would best serve Lissa’s interests.
***
Lissa was staring from the window in the nursery when, to her astonishment, she saw Lord Debenham’s carriage pull up at the front door and His Lordship, himself, march up the stairs.
She thought her legs were going to buckle beneath her. “I must...get something for the girls,” she said lamely to the nursery maid. “I’ll be gone but a minute.”
