Chapter 28

twenty-eight

P ERRY WAS SORE and tired all over. He’d suffered from more seizures in the past few weeks than in the past few years.

When Edith had been shoved into the water, panic had seized him. He’d tried to help her, but the seizure had been faster. If she hadn’t found the courage to overcome her own moment of panic, she might have got hurt. And last but not least, he’d revealed his condition to everyone. Dukes, earls, and members of Parliament had witnessed his malady. He’d not been conscious during the seizure, but he could guess what comments they’d made.

After the disastrous party, he’d hidden from society in his parlour with Edith for the whole day. He didn’t even want to see his servants around.

“Perry, you must react.” She took his hand and stroked it. “We must do something.”

“The party was a trap, and we fell for it.” He rubbed his aching forehead. “Miss Ferguson and my uncle witnessed my seizure in the Scarlet Room and mistakenly thought that water triggered it, but as it turned out, their mistake didn’t matter. They got what they wanted.”

She laced her fingers through his. “I have no evidence, but if Neville manages to steal the title from you, I’m sure Daphne will be his countess. The good thing is that I’m not as scared of the water as I was before.” She chuckled. “Well, I’m still scared, but I jumped out of the pool on my own.”

He kissed her knuckles. “You’re a strong, brilliant woman.” A horrible thought made its way through his mind. “If the worst happens and I’m declared insane and locked up in an asylum, we won’t be able to get married.”

Her beautiful eyes shone with a fierce light. “We’ll get married. No matter what happens, we’ll find a way. I promise you.”

He put a hand on her nape and pulled her for a kiss. Her sweet, soft lips parted, and the tip of her tongue darted over his.

The knock on the door interrupted them.

He released her reluctantly. “Come in.”

“I’m sorry, Perry.” Oliver slid inside the parlour tentatively. “Two letters have just arrived. One contains great news, the other bad news. Which one do you want first?”

“Good news.”

Oliver flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Mr. Lochard, the private detective, caught the infamous stable hand, a John Clarke.”

“Yes!” Edith squeezed Perry’s hand.

“Lochard is currently interrogating him,” Oliver said. “The police are involved as well.”

Perry sagged in the armchair. “Great. The bad news?”

He handed him a long letter, his smile vanishing. “I took the liberty of reading it in case it was something unimportant, so that I wouldn’t trouble you, but that’s not the case.”

Perry forced down the wave of worry rising up. “ Under a request filed by Lord Neville St. George, Master of Tallbridge, an official medical report will be issued by a member of the Royal Medical Society to ascertain if Lord Ravenscroft possesses the mental capability and ability to hold his title. Lord Ravenscroft might request to be examined by a physician of his choice, as long as the said physician has been a member of the Royal Medical Society for no less than ten years. As if that changes anything . Given the particular circumstances, Dr. Bernard Winkworth is not eligible to be the medical inspector… yours respectfully… etc… .” Perry lowered the letter. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Could your brother be reinstated?” Edith asked.

“Once renounced, the title would be difficult to reinstate without a long legal battle and most likely some scandal. I certainly don’t want that.” He folded the letter and set it aside. “Besides, my brother is happy where he is. I don’t want to draw him into this.”

“Not all is lost,” Oliver said. “The medical inspector must catch you in the middle of a seizure. Right? He has no means to verify that you suffer from seizures unless he witnesses one.”

“Too many people saw what happened,” Perry said. “Plenty of witnesses. The visit is a formality.”

“We have an ace to play though.” She glanced at the curtains covering Astrea. “We can request Sir James as the inspector. He’s very much interested in the Star Maiden. We might offer it to him in exchange for a favourable report.”

“A bribe?” Oliver sounded both hopeful and shocked.

“Why not?” she said. “Neville and Daphne are playing a dirty game. So can we.”

Perry glanced in the direction of the painting. He was fond of the Star Maiden. He wasn’t fond of the idea of another man ogling over Edith’s nude painting, maybe showing it to his friends. “I’m sure we can find something else to bribe him with.”

“Would it be so difficult for you to give the Star Maiden away?” Edith asked.

Perry scratched his chin. “Sir James feels guilty about the carriage accident. He won’t refuse to be my examiner. We don’t need to use the painting.”

“I disagree,” Edith said. “He might accept to be your examiner, but if we give him the Star Maiden, he’ll undoubtedly produce a favourable report.”

“Please listen.” Oliver hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat. “How lucky are you to have me?”

“Do you really want an answer?” Perry asked.

“You know I’m always full of wonderful ideas.” Oliver beamed.

Perry and Edith stared at him.

Oliver looked affronted. “I saved the day more than once.”

“The last time you had a wonderful idea, your medical licence was revoked,” Perry said.

“And you’ll have to face a hearing,” Edith added.

“Yes, but this is a really good idea.” Oliver waved dismissively. “Sir James has never seen the painting, correct?”

“He isn’t even sure it exists,” Edith said.

Oliver grinned. “Have you ever heard of Francisco Goya?”

Perry exhaled. “I hope you aren’t referring to the painter but to an assassin for hire we can employ to get rid of my uncle.”

“I would never suggest such a thing.” Oliver put a hand on his chest. “I’m a doctor. I took the Hippocratic oath. Do no harm . Yes, I’m talking about the Spanish painter.”

“What does he have to do with our situation?” Edith asked.

“Well, Goya painted a rather scandalous painting of a lady, La Maja Desnuda , the naked Maja. The painting caused such a stir in society that he made a more appropriate second one, called La Maja Vestida , or the clothed Maja.” He spread his arms. “Ask Mr. Carter to paint a second painting, the clothed Star Maiden, and there you have it. Sir James will have his more respectable painting, and Perry will keep his title and the original painting.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Perry said.

“I don’t think Valentine will agree to paint me again,” Edith said. “My last encounter with him didn’t end well.”

“He’s a gambler.” Perry grinned. “I’m sure I can find a persuasive argument.”

Edith could never have imagined she would ever ask Valentine to pose for him again. Never say never. So here she was, once again in Valentine’s atelier, with a brooding Perry and a perplexed Valentine.

“… so this second Star Maiden would be more clothed,” she said, finishing explaining the situation to Valentine.

He cradled his chin, shifting his gaze from Perry to her. The stain of blue paint on the tip of his nose ruined his serious expression.

“No,” he said firmly. “First, my goddesses aren’t clothed . The whole point of painting them is to show how beautiful the human body is. And second, I don’t want a repeat of our last conversation. Thank you.”

“If anything,” Edith said, matching his annoyed tone, “you’ll have the opportunity to create another masterpiece that will be adored.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m an artist. I have principles and morals. Inspiration can’t be commanded at will. The muse comes and goes as she pleases, and I?—”

“I’ll give you ten thousand pounds,” Perry said in a bored tone.

Edith gasped as Valentine couldn’t grab his paintbrushes fast enough.

Her second time posing was very different. For starters, she was dressed in a beautiful silver tunic in an ancient Greek style that covered her from chin to ankle, and secondly, Perry was present, sitting in a corner of the atelier and watching Valentine’s every move like a bloodhound.

Valentine smiled at her, holding his paintbrush. She suspected the ten thousand pounds had something to do with his sudden happiness.

“My beautiful Edith?—”

“She isn’t yours,” Perry grumbled from his corner.

“Perry, please.” She swept a curl of hair from her face.

He arched a dark eyebrow. “I’ve just corrected the artist’s grammar.”

“It’s fine.” Valentine nodded and smiled. “And His Lordship is right. Please spread your arms and lift your chin.”

He worked in silence, fully focused on her. When he concentrated, he lost his debonair look and became more ruthless and serious.

He paused to study her, head tilted. “I think the top of the tunic should be lower. Let’s show a few inches of your beautiful breasts.” He went to touch her, but Perry shot him a cold glare that stopped him in his tracks.

Valentine shrugged. “Or maybe not.”

Edith shot her gaze up. “Please, we need to be quick.”

Despite Valentine’s efforts, it took hours to finish the painting and an entire day for it to dry and be recoated and dried again, barely in time for Sir James’s visit.

When the painting was carefully packed and ready to be transported to Perry’s house and his bank account was lighter, Perry shook Valentine’s hand. “Carter, I admire your work. You’re a true artist, but?—”

“Let’s end it there.” Edith tugged at Perry’s hand.

Valentine shrugged. “For ten thousand pounds, I’ll accept any criticism from the earl.”