The Irish Duke Page 3

  “That Landseer fellow is painting your portrait?” Bessy’s eyebrows arched in disapproval. “I’m amazed he can tear himself away from his . . . muse.”

  She means Mother. She cannot hide her envy. “Lanny is painting me in my ballet dress. Perhaps he could do a portrait of your son?”

  Bessy stiffened. “I think not. Hastings will be painted by Lawrence, not some wildlife amateur.”

  Lu jumped up, unable to mask the blazing anger in her eyes. How dare you disparage Lanny’s work? It is pure genius!

  Louisa ran down to the theater dressing room. With outrage bubbling inside, she donned the bell-shaped ballet gown in which she’d danced for Lanny. She’d stitched back the satin ribbons her brothers had cut off her ballet slippers, and she chose a pair of blush pink to wear for her portrait. She brushed her hair and fashioned the dark curls at the nape of her neck. She glanced in the mirror. I hope he thinks I’m pretty.

  Landseer arrived and set up his easel in the light from one of the tall windows. He suggested different poses and Lu followed his directions to the letter. He did a few quick sketches before deciding which one would be most effective.

  As Lu posed, her anger melted away. There was no room in her heart for any emotion but joy when she was with Lanny. He makes me feel so special. I’m sure he is growing fond of me. As she posed quietly, she fell into a daydream that took her far away from the manicured gardens of Woburn. They were riding through a rugged glen in Scotland. Finding themselves isolated in the wilderness, they drew rein. He lifted her from the saddle and they ran toward a bubbling burn. Lanny bent and picked purple heather for her. Her heart beat wildly as he clasped her in his arms and touched his lips to hers.

  “Stop!”

  Louisa jumped guiltily. Her lovely vision dissolved and was replaced by Henry and Cosmo chasing after ten-year-old Hastings. A pug and a spaniel followed on their heels, barking furiously.

  “What’s the trouble here, lads?” Edwin put down his paintbrush.

  “We were throwing sticks for Scamp, and then Hastings grabbed one and hit my dog with it,” Cosmo shouted.

  “Your dog bit me!” Hastings cried. “I’ll get Father to shoot it.”

  Lu took three threatening steps toward him. “We don’t shoot dogs at Woburn. Sniveling, spiteful nephews, on the other hand, are fair game.”

  “I’m sure you can find something entertaining that doesn’t include sticks,” Landseer suggested.

  “Swords!” Henry declared. “Will you play pirates with us, Lanny?” he asked hopefully. “We made a raft, but we need your muscles to help us carry it to the lake.”

  “Go on, you’ve twisted my arm,” Landseer agreed affably.

  Louisa’s heart sank. “I can pose again this afternoon.”

  He gave her a warm smile. “The morning light is better. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

  “What do you think of William’s wife?” Louisa asked her sister as they met on the stairs.

  “She’s an insufferable bitch who cannot abide us.”

  “But why does she hate us?”

  “She’s jealous of course. William has always confided in Mother, and Bessy thinks she must compete with her for her husband’s love. She loathes the fact that Mother is a queen bee with an endless retinue of courtiers who adore her.”

  “Mother does have a lot of devoted admirers, but why is Bessy jealous of us?”

  “We are Father’s second family. Since he worships the ground Mother walks on, it only stands to reason he loves us best.” John Russell had three sons, Francis, William, and Johnny, before he married Georgina Gordon.

  “That’s not true. Father loves all his children equally.”

  “Don’t let Bessy upset you, Lu. Life’s too short.”

  “You’re going riding. If you wait until I change my dress, I’ll come with you.”

  “Yes, I’m going riding, but the last thing I need is a chaperone. Find your own diversion.”

  “A chaperone is the first thing you need. Behave yourself, Georgy.”

  “You sound exactly like Wriothesley, delivering a sermon. Having a vicar for a brother is bad enough; I don’t need a nun for a sister.”

  Louisa watched Georgy skip down the stairs and decided to see if the cook had made some lemonade. She cut through the conservatory and passed by the corridor leading to the chamber that Lanny used as a studio. Suddenly she had a yen to take a peek at her portrait in the ballet dress. She knew he wouldn’t show it to her until it was completely finished. I’ll just go in and take a quick look while he’s down at the lake.

  Louisa opened the door and slipped in quietly. The smell of oil paint and turpentine filled her nostrils. She liked the pungent, piney fragrance because she connected it with Lanny. She gazed about the studio, looking for the painting. There were various sketches on easels, but they were not of her. His worktables held brushes, palette knives, tubes of pigment, and etching tools. Dozens of canvases stood against the walls, with his paintings of animals separate from his portraits of the Russells.

  She glanced at a large canvas and found half a dozen smaller ones stacked behind it. The portraits were all of her mother, which didn’t surprise her. The beauteous Duchess of Bedford was Edwin’s favorite model. Suddenly Louisa drew in a quick breath. She stared in disbelief at a sketch of her mother, lying in repose with one breast bared. The intimate pose shocked her. The naked breast was round and ripe; the look on her mother’s face was inviting. How could Mother have exposed herself like this to Lanny?

  A sense of guilt rushed over her. She had no right to be in the artist’s studio, pawing through his paintings. Louisa left the room quickly and closed the door behind her. Mother breast-fed baby Rachel. I often came upon her in the nursery at feeding time. It’s perfectly natural. Perhaps Father wanted her sketched like that. Louisa blushed hotly and chided herself for being shocked.

  She made her way to her mother’s sitting room, thinking to share afternoon tea with her. As she approached she could hear William and her mother talking. She hung back to see if she could hear his wife. If Elizabeth were there, she wouldn’t join them.

  “I show Bessy every kindness, but she treats me as an adversary. I try to overlook her cold, haughty manner because an open quarrel would upset your father.”

  “I wish you could be friends,” William said wistfully.

  “She disapproves of everything I say and do, and cannot hide it. It has gotten back to me that in her letters she accuses me of extravagance, but she doesn’t refuse my offer to pay for decorating and refurbishing the townhouse in Cavendish Square.”

  “That is most generous of you, Georgina. You only imagine that she disapproves.”

  “No, her animosity is real. She even accused me of exaggerating your father’s illness. But never mind, I rejoice that he is so much improved. I’m glad you have come to visit him and truly happy you have decided to live in England.”

  Louisa turned around and went back the way she had come. Bessy doesn’t realize Father is improved because of Mother’s devoted nursing. Suddenly the female who dominated her thoughts emerged from her father’s library.

  “I enjoy spending time with His Grace. He’s so friendly and gallant,” Bessy declared.

  “He is much improved and we owe it all to Mother. She sat by his bed, often twenty-four hours at a time until he began to recover. She was extremely worried.”

  “It is perfectly understandable why she was worried. Have you seen Hastings?”

  “He is down at the lake with my brothers. I’ll take you if you like, Bessy.” Louisa fell in step beside her sister-in-law and they entered the garden.

  “Your mother was terrified the duke would die, for then she and her children would have no place to go.”

  Louisa stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “John’s oldest son Francis will get the title when your father dies. Woburn, the money, and all the other houses and property will no longer be Georgina’s to do with as she fancies. Your mothe
r will do anything to keep him breathing.”

  “That is a wicked and spiteful thing to say. My parents are devoted to each other.”

  “Well, she certainly has him besotted. He indulges her every whim. It pays her to keep him alive.”

  Louisa stopped walking. “I’m sure you’ll find Hastings. He’s the one squealing like a girl.” She turned on her heel and went back to her mother’s sitting room.

  “Ah, there you are, William. Bessy has gone down to the lake to find Hastings. She would like you to join her,” she improvised. Louisa took William’s plate and empty wineglass, and pointedly set them on the teacart.

  William smiled. “I’d best attend her. I don’t want to put her in a pique.”

  When he left, Louisa confronted her mother. “Bessy says you’re frightened to death of Father dying, because Francis will get everything and we’ll have no place to go.”

  “The wretched girl cannot help causing trouble. I have nursed your father so he will regain his health and I am gratified that he has come on so well. It wasn’t for any ulterior motive that I did it, though she speaks truth that Francis is heir to your father’s dukedom, and of course Woburn Abbey.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you what she said, Mother. I don’t want to upset you.”

  “She’s said far worse things than that, Lu. She’s possessive of William and jealous that he still confides in his stepmother. She won’t be here long. Their London house will soon be ready.”

  Mother doesn’t seem particularly worried about Francis inheriting everything. She seems to take it for granted that Father will take care of us.

  “It’s Rachel’s playtime. Will you come up to the nursery with me?”

  “I think I’ll go and keep Father company in the library.” Louisa headed down the long hallway to Woburn’s library. She knocked politely before she entered.

  “Hello, Puss. Have you come to choose a book to read?”

  “Not really. I have some questions I’d like you to answer for me . . . but only if you’re feeling well enough, Father.”

  “I’m feisty as a fighting cock. Come and sit down.” John Russell had a firm manner and spoke directly and to the point.

  Louisa did not beat about the bush. “When Francis inherits Woburn, where will Mother and the rest of us live?”

  John searched his daughter’s face. “A couple of years ago, when I bought Campden Hill in Kensington, I put the deed in your mother’s name. She chose it because it is next door to Holland House. I had it modernized and enlarged to accommodate all of you.” He smiled ruefully. “Your mother has often complained that Woburn is like a large mausoleum.”

  Louisa let out a relieved breath.

  “She will be free to use the Devon house and estate also. Francis is quite aware that your mother and I built Endsleigh together, and I’m sure he will be generous enough to make no claim upon it. Has someone been alarming you about what will happen should I suddenly die?”

  “No, no,” she denied quickly. “I have no fear that is going to happen. You have made a remarkable recovery, Father.”

  “In any case, your future won’t depend upon your brother Francis. Your husband will be responsible for you, my dear. To ensure that we make an excellent match for you, I have set aside a dowry of five thousand pounds. Suitors will soon be vying for a chance to court you. But you may rest assured. We will only consider an alliance with a powerful, noble family.”

  “But I have no wish to marry! Being a wife and mother of an unruly horde of children does not appeal to me.” Though Louisa loved her father, she thought it the height of male selfishness for him to give her mother ten children, on top of the three sons from his first marriage.

  His eyes flickered with amusement. “The alternative of being left on the shelf and having to depend upon the charity of your brothers would be far less appealing, I assure you. Far better to have a grand estate of your own to run as you see fit.”

  Mr. Burke, her father’s steward, arrived to help the duke navigate the stairs, so he could dress for dinner. Louisa left the library and slipped through a French door out onto a veranda. She wandered down to the grotto with the seashell walls. She sat beside the reflecting pool to ponder the sobering things she’d learned from her father.

  To Louisa, marriage was inextricably connected with having children. She had questioned her mother about childbirth, but she always told her not to worry; it was natural for a woman. None of her fears had been lessened. Sometimes the unspeakable happened, and babies were born dead. It had happened to her mother, and Louisa dreaded the possibility that it could happen to her. She shuddered at the memory of her recurring nightmare. Since she was a small child she had dreamed of seeing her mother covered in blood. When she became older, it was sometimes herself who was drenched in blood. Finally, last year, she had summoned the courage to ask her mother if she had ever suffered a miscarriage.

  “Yes. We were picking flowers in the garden, when it happened quite suddenly. I sent you running for help. But you couldn’t possibly remember it—you were only about three at the time.”

  “What were the flowers?”

  “They were lupins, darling.”

  Louisa was distracted from her dark thoughts when she spotted Georgy returning from her ride. She joined her sister, and together they walked up to the house.

  “Did you know that the only home we’ll ever have will be our husband’s?”

  “Yes, Lu, and I’m about to turn twenty. I have far less time than you.”

  “If we refuse to marry, we will have nothing,” Lu said indignantly.

  “Well, I shan’t refuse to marry. I shall relentlessly pursue every male who crosses my path and enjoy every moment. Husband hunting should be a lot more fun than bagging game.”

  “I don’t want a lord and master who will use me as a brood mare. I would far rather be a dancer on the stage than a wife and mother.”

  “But even a dancer can’t manage without a man to pay her bills. Girls on the stage have lovers to pay for their rooms, and clothes, and carriages.”

  “Lovers? Men who expect to sleep with you?”

  “Men who expect sexual favors. Don’t be so naive, Lu. It’s far easier to marry a doting husband. Men are putty in your hands when you use the right bait.”

  Lu glanced down at her sister’s grass stains. “You’d best change before dinner, Georgy. If Father ever finds out you act provocatively with your groom, there will be hell to pay.”

  “I know you won’t tell him, so how the devil will he find out? Besides, everything I do, I learned from Mother. Men cannot resist her. She feeds on courtly love. I’m just using Dick for practice.”

  “Courtly love is innocent. Uncle Holly dedicates poems to her beauty. It’s platonic.”

  “Don’t be naive. There’s no such thing,” Georgy insisted.

  Louisa changed the subject. “What would you like for your birthday?”

  Her sister winked suggestively. “What I’d like and what I’ll get are two different things. I’d like some suitors, but until they come along I’ll make do with Dick.”

  A few days later, Edwin finished the portrait of Louisa in her ballet gown and allowed her to see it.

  “Oh, Lanny, you have made me look beautiful. It flatters me.” Her pulse was fluttering wildly and she could hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

  “I but captured your natural beauty, my dear. The bloom of youth on your cheek, the lovely curve of your throat, hint at the budding womanhood beneath your innocence.”

  She caught her breath. I think I love you. She swayed toward him.

  “Don’t lose your balance.” He caught her shoulders in strong hands and steadied her. Then he took the canvas from the easel. “Let’s go and show your mother.”

  Her flesh tingled where his hands had rested. He touched me. I think he was about to kiss me, if he hadn’t thought I was going to fall in my ballet slippers.

  They found Georgina kneeling on the rug in her sitt
ing room, watching baby Rachel ride her rocking horse.

  “Lanny finished my portrait. We’ve come to show you.”

  “Oh, it’s lovely. You’ve perfectly captured her delicacy.”

  “Louisa’s resemblance to you is unmistakable, Your Grace.”

  “You flatter me, Lanny.”

  “You and the baby make such a beautiful picture. Now that she’s learning to walk, I’d love to paint you together, helping Rachel take her first steps,” he suggested.

  “What a lovely idea.” Louisa picked up her baby sister and kissed her cheek. “She has the prettiest red curls in the world.”

  Edwin held out his hand and helped Georgina to her feet. Then she lifted Rachel from Louisa’s arms, and when the baby began to chortle, they all laughed with delight.

  Elizabeth walked into the sitting room and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw them. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to intrude on such an intimate family gathering.”

  “Bessy, of course you’re not intruding,” Georgina said smoothly. “Mr. Landseer has just finished a portrait of Louisa.”

  “I’m amazed Woburn needs its own resident artist.” Her tone was disapproving.

  “We are fortunate to have him. Painting the Russells is becoming a full-time occupation,” Georgina said lightly. “Edwin has his own residence and studio in London.”

  “Really?” she drawled, with barely concealed skepticism. “William was out shooting. I just wondered if he’d returned. I’m sure you’ll excuse me?”

  Baby Rachel was about to burst into tears.

  “Bessy has that effect on me too, darling.” Georgina tickled her daughter’s tummy, eliciting another chortle, and they all gave a relieved laugh.

  Louisa picked up her portrait. “I think I’d like to keep this in my bedchamber for a few days before it is added to the picture gallery.” She blushed prettily. “Thank you so much, Lanny.”

  “It always gives me great pleasure to paint you, my dear.”

  Louisa was walking on a cloud as she carried her portrait upstairs to her bedchamber. She removed a sketch her mother had done, replaced it with Lanny’s painting, and stood back to admire it. “He has made me look beautiful. This must be the way he sees me.” Her heart sang at the thought. Lanny is different from other men. He’s never arrogant and selfish. He’s talented, and funny, and so very handsome. After I make my debut, I hope he will court me. I don’t want to marry Lanny, but it might be fun to have him court me. Louisa went off in a reverie, where a pair of sparkling blue eyes gazed at her with longing, and a pair of lips claimed hers with a possessive kiss.