Art and Artifice Read Free

cause for thought,
cause for fear. Does he look as if he’s thinking about meeting his
Maker?”
    She cocked her head, and the scent of lemon
drifted up from her, reminding him of his mother’s tart lemonade.
“I will grant you that he doesn’t look particularly emotional. But
not everyone cries in adversity, sir.”
    Something told him she’d be one who braved on
without a tear. She had that militant look in her eye.
    “I suppose not,” he said. “But I always
thought art was supposed to illuminate the human condition.”
    She raised her chin. “Some artists prefer to
accurately depict history.”
    She must certainly admire the artist to
defend the fellow so fervently. “There are books enough on
history,” Jamie replied. “Why bother painting it if that’s all you
want out of it?”
    “Why bother?” she sputtered. “Sir, you have
no sensibilities!”
    Jamie laughed. Odd that she found him
calloused when he was accused too often of being too emotional, of
taking the side of the victim when it was his job to pursue the
criminal.
    But a noise from the corridor caught his ear,
and he saw Lady Minerva heading their way, her brother the Duke of
Emerson beside her. With Lady Emily standing there, looking at
Jamie with a combination of bewilderment and belligerence, now was
not the time to advise her aunt and father that the man they
intended for her might be one of London’s greatest villains.
    Instead, he bowed to her again. “I’ve picked
a poor time to visit, I see. You’ll want to speak to your father.
He’s just come home.”
    “He has?” She hurried to the door and glanced
out. Her narrow face lit, with a joy and love that wiped away all
the frustration he’d felt from her. For a moment, Jamie simply
stood, gazing at her, amazed by the transformation.
    Such a look could make a fellow forget his
task, his goals, and his very self.
    That’s when he knew he was truly in
trouble.
     
     

Chapter 2
     
    Something inside Emily swelled at the sight
of her father walking toward her. He was the perfect duke in her
mind: not too tall, with sandy hair and knowing brown eyes. Every
movement in his fine blue coat said confidence and privilege and
power. Oh, but the mysterious gentleman in the sitting room was in
trouble now. She turned with great pleasure to tell him so, only to
find that he was gone, like smoke up a chimney, leaving the door to
the servant’s stair ajar. Even as she stared in surprise, her
father and aunt reached her.
    “What a delightful homecoming,” he said. “Not
even out yet and all set to be married.”
    Emily turned her stare on him, feeling as if
the corridor had dipped beneath her feet. “What?”
    He smiled fondly. “Lord Robert has been
visiting me and your aunt for the last fortnight, regaling us with
his plans, and I’ve discussed the matter with his brother Lord
Wakenoak. It seems Lord Robert hopes to marry immediately and sweep
you off to Devonshire for a honeymoon. He’s certainly conceived a
passion for you.”
    The air in the corridor seemed to be
thinning, her sight dimming. No! She’d never fainted in her life.
And crying would be nearly as bad. She’d cried enough when her
mother died eight years ago; it hadn’t brought her mother back.
Besides, she would much rather solve a problem than cry over
it.
    “But I don’t wish to marry so soon, Father,”
she said, forcing her words to come out calm, measured. “You
promised we would host a come out ball. I believe your secretary
has already issued the invitations.”
    “Then we will make it a betrothal ball,” her
father, always the diplomat, said.
    “I’m certain the goldfish and finches won’t
mind,” Lady Minerva assured her.
    The menagerie might not care, but Emily did.
“Father, we must talk. I don’t wish to marry Lord Robert. I haven’t
seen him since I was a child!”
    Her father patted her arm. “Now, then,
there’s nothing to fear. He is a fine fellow of good family,
exactly the sort of man your