Chapter Two

A ntony was on a mission—a mission spurred by the highly imaginative bit of artwork he'd discovered in the garden. The folded-up bit of paper that Miss Davies had intended for her cousin, which had not reached its intended destination at all, was now tucked into the pocket of his waistcoat.

At last, after an exhaustive search of the house, beset by near misses and unfortunately unavoidable polite conversations with individuals he had no real desire to speak with at all, Antony found his cousin, Theo, in the blessedly empty billiard room. It was only a short while before dinner, and he hoped it would be enough time to convince him to aid in his newly formed quest.

It was a wonder to many that the two of them were so close, as they could not have been more different. Slight and fair, Theo was the antithesis of Antony in every way. Yet, despite their obvious differences, they had developed a surprisingly close bond that was more akin to that of siblings than merely cousins. It was for precisely that reason that Theo was the only one he could trust in his current situation.

"What do you think of Miss Davies?" he asked without preamble.

Theo frowned. "I do not think of Miss Davies. Not in the least. Why would I?"

"Well, she is a young woman visiting for the summer... a family connection to the Stanhopes, who will now be forever linked to us. One would think you would have at least some opinion of her," Antony pointed out, being intentionally vague.

Theo simply shrugged as he circled the billiard table, examining every angle before deciding on his next shot. "She's little more than a servant, has no dowry, no connections, and nothing to recommend her. That is all I need to know about her. A better question, cousin, would be why you are thinking of her. Especially given that you have the lovely Miss Isabella Parker to occupy your thoughts. Indeed, I should wonder that you have a spare thought for anyone given the extent of Miss Parker's charms."

Antony frowned. "You seem quite taken with Isabella."

Theo tensed. "There is not a gentleman alive who has encountered Miss Parker who is not taken with her. I would never presume to importune her—or you—with my admiration."

It was an opportunity. Theo was quite the catch on the marriage mart, despite his lesser title. Handsome, if not precisely robust, he was charming and possessed of a respectable title and quite extensive fortune. And he was the answer to Antony's prayers. "Cousin, I must confess something to you."

Theo walked idly around the table, examining the position of each ball very carefully. "Very well. Confess."

"I cannot marry Miss Parker." The moment he uttered the words, Antony felt as though a great burden had been lifted from him. He exhaled fully and felt positively freed by it. "I thought I could. I thought that perhaps my feelings for her would grow with greater acquaintance, hence inviting her family to spend the summer here with us in anticipation of this wedding. But I have been proven wrong. The more time I spend with her, the less time I desire to spend with her."

Theo's shot went wide, the cue striking the felt and the ball skittering off the table entirely. "Have you taken complete leave of your senses? She's beautiful. She's more than beautiful. I would dare you to find a more perfect example of feminine beauty in all of the ton !"

"Isabella is beautiful," Antony conceded. "But that's all she is. I need more, Theo. That simply isn't enough to base a marriage on."

Theo shook his head as if astounded by his cousin's idiocy. "What is it you would have me do?"

"Just dance attendance on Isabella while I figure out... while I figure things out." He could not, under any circumstances, let it be known that Miss Davies had been sketching him in the altogether, or as much of the altogether as she was familiar with. That sketch, the mysterious paper he'd managed to rescue in the garden before Caesar had a chance to scoop it up in his gaping and unfortunate maw, had been—to say the least—a revelation. The drawing had been well executed, although in many regards he thought perhaps the artist had flattered him unnecessarily. Or perhaps that was how she perceived him. For his part, he had no small degree of appreciation for the prettiness of Miss Davies, with her sparkling eyes and sweetly curved smile.

"Figure things out... with Miss Davies?" Theo asked pointedly.

"Just so," Antony admitted. "I cannot help but feel there is something there, a connection, that must be explored."

Theo shook his head. "Are you certain? If you do this, there will be no going back regardless. This ephemeral connection you speak of may be nothing more than fancy, but Isabella Parker will not simply be idle while you pursue another woman right under her nose!"

"I will not marry Miss Parker. That fact remains independently of whatever comes of my interest in Miss Davies," he stated firmly.

"Fine. I shall lavish my attentions upon your almost-betrothed who is a diamond of the first water while you play chasey-chasey with a girl who is little better than hired help," Theo conceded. "And I shall think you mad the entire time. Incidentally, cousin, what if Miss Parker decides she prefers a lowly lord to an exalted duke?"

"Then I shall wish you felicitations and toast you at your wedding breakfast."

With that, Antony left the billiard room and his sputtering cousin. He needed to find a way to speak to Miss Davies alone. That could well be a Herculean task, given how his grandmother had structured events for the house party and wedding. So perhaps he needed to enlist the aid of someone else in his endeavors. But that was a last resort, of course. The fewer people who knew what was happening, the safer it would be for Miss Davies all around.

But there was one person he could trust. His valet, Thompson, could make inquiries about her discreetly and help him to arrange opportunities for their paths to cross. It was the perfect plan.

Smiling to himself, Antony made for his rooms. The sooner he could instruct Thompson on what he required, the sooner he could begin wooing Miss Davies in earnest.

*

Caroline was positively on tenterhooks. Since their afternoon in the garden, when she had put pencil to paper to create that salacious drawing of her wildest imaginings of the duke, fear had been her constant companion. Had he found it? Had someone else found it and apprised him of her improper behavior? Or, heaven forbid, had someone found it and given it to her aunt?

Maneuvering through the crowded drawing room, trying desperately to avoid Sir Percival, she maintained her nonchalant act as if nothing untoward was afoot. She smiled politely, and later would no doubt be asked to read aloud or play the pianoforte to humiliate herself in the fashion determined by her aunt. And she was supposed to do all of these things with just enough skill to not draw undue attention to herself and away from Ruby. It had been made quite clear to her from the moment her aunt had taken her on that her position was tenuous at best and that she was only to ever show Ruby to her best advantage. Creating nude drawings of a wealthy, powerful, and very well-connected gentleman would certainly result in the type of "undue attention" her aunt frowned upon.

Now, gathered in the drawing room prior to the dinner hour, she waited to be called out. Branded as some sort of morally deficient strumpet in front of everyone, they likely would not even wait for morning to toss her out on her ear. It was all she could do not to ring her hands in distress. The only thing preventing her from making such a display was a single shred of hope that perhaps Caesar had found the offending bit of artwork and salivated over it until its contents were to remain forever a mystery to whoever was unlucky enough to find his soggy treasure.

"Caroline, have you had any indication that Mama or the duchess are displeased with you?" The whispered inquiry was from Ruby, who had sidled up next to her.

"Nothing... not yet, at any rate," Caroline said. "Perhaps it hasn't been found?"

Ruby's expression shifted to one of alarm. "Or perhaps they have yet to determine precisely what they mean to do with you?"

Caroline's stomach knotted at the thought. "Ruby, could you endeavor to be slightly less honest? Occasionally, a bit of unwavering optimism, no matter how poorly grounded in reality it is, would be quite welcome!"

"Well, you did make a fairly realistic likeness of the duke wearing... well, nothing. In all fairness, Caroline, I cannot imagine that there will not be dire consequences for it."

Knowing that Ruby was correct did not help her nerves at all. "I only drew it because you told me to!"

"I didn't tell you to draw him nude! That was entirely your idea," Ruby fired back in a heated whisper.

Caroline's eyes widened in outrage. "You dared me to draw him as I longed to see him. How else should I like to see him, Ruby?"

"Picking flowers for you, riding his horse while dressed in gleaming armor... not nude, Caroline. Good heavens!"

And at that very moment, the object of Caroline's curiosity entered the drawing room. As always, he took her breath away. He was so unbearably handsome. With dark, shortly cropped hair and lean, chiseled features, he was simply beautiful. But it was his eyes which always drew her. Deep brown, fringed with thick lashes and topped with slashing dark brows, they were kind and warm in a way that one typically did not see with gentlemen.

"Good evening, Miss Stanhope . . . Miss Davies."

Had he paused? He had paused! Why? What could that possibly mean? Caroline was in such a state that she couldn't even reply. She simply stood there, blinking owlishly while panic suffused her.

"Good evening, Your Grace," Ruby said and then shifted so that her elbow connected sharply with Caroline's ribs.

Spurred to action, Caroline dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Your Grace."

"You are well, Miss Davies? My grandmother's abundantly scheduled entertainments have not left you exhausted?"

"The dowager duchess is a remarkable hostess," Caroline managed to say, speaking around the lump in her throat. Or perhaps she was suffering some fatal heart seizure brought on solely by panic. "Everything at Averford is just as it should be, Your Grace, and no doubt that is largely the dowager's doing." Had she sounded sharp? Oh, she had. Now he thought her a shrew. If he had seen the sketch, he'd think her a strumpet and a shrew. Good heavens.

The duke smiled, though his expression was quite curious. "I see, Miss Davies. That is excellent to hear. I shall leave you to it then.... Oh, but I nearly forgot. You are quite the artist, are you not, Miss Davies?"

Beside her, Ruby let out a squeak of alarm. It was Caroline's turn to land a strategically placed elbow. "I dabble, Your Grace. I merely dabble."

"Well, Averford offers many inspiring sights. A ruined abbey on the far edges of the property boasts charming vistas of the valley to one side and the sea to the other. I imagine even for one who only dabbles at artistic endeavors, it would be a wellspring of inspiration. Perhaps we shall get up a party and picnic at the site."

"It's a lovely idea, Your Grace, but I fear your grandmother's schedule may not afford such lassitude. She has planned an endless array of entertainments, after all."

He merely smiled. "We shall see, Miss Davies."