Anne Barbour (21 page)

She saw Seth frequently. On receiving from Mr. Rellihan the contract he wished her to sign, she had delayed doing so until Seth could look at it. He perused it carefully, and after making one or two suggestions for minor changes, pronounced it acceptable. Seth seemed to make it a point to appear at various functions at which it might be supposed the Misses Beckett would be present and, in addition, visited the house in Portman Square with such regularity that Lady Beckett mentioned the circumstance to her daughter in a cautionary dissertation.

"Mr. Lindow seems to have formed a decided partiality to you, dearest," she declared one morning at the breakfast table. Garbed for the day in twilled cotton, embellished by a dimity fichu, she bobbed her head vigorously as she sipped her coffee. "I would take some care in your dealings with him." She picked at the lace of the table cover for a moment. "I know that at one time we thought he might be an eligible parti for you, but I have been talking to your father and he says ... well, his social status is such that... I am afraid he is quite ineligible."

Eden swallowed her irritation at this pronouncement.

"We are friends only. Mama. I am certainly not thinking of marriage," she added mendaciously. "Mr. Lindow and I merely have some interests in common, and he finds in my company a pleasant diversion from the press of his business activities."

Her mother agreed with unflattering swiftness. "Yes," she said briskly, "I have been asking around a bit, and there has been no talk of his seeking a bride. Not that there is much talk of him at all. Really, despite his connection with the duke, he seems a complete nonentity. I wonder just what his financial situation is," she continued speculatively. "Being the adopted son of the duke, one would think he must be worth something, but if he were, surely he would achieve more of a ... well, more of a
presence
in the Polite World. And one rarely hears of his attending the more important gatherings."

"Since we are rarely seen at such functions ourselves," interposed Eden tartly, "how would we know if he was there or not?"

Lady Beckett reddened. "Don't be impertinent. Did I not say, 'rarely
hears'
?"

"In any event," continued Eden, "it seems to me that Seth's—that is Mr. Lindow's status in the
beau monde,
as the adoptive son of the Duke of Derwent, is more than secure. In any event, it is hardly our concern. I consider him a friend— nothing more and nothing less."

"Mm. The fact remains, he is a commoner of low birth. I hope a word to the wise will be sufficient, my dear, as I'm sure it will be. You are not a young flibbertigibbet to be swayed by the attentions of a gentleman. That is," she concluded in a flustered rush, "he is not precisely a gentleman, but—oh, you know what I mean."

Which sentiment so put Eden out of charity with her mother that she swallowed the last of her coffee in a gulp and left the room with an indignant rustle of skirts.

She ascended the stairs, to be met by Zoë, coming down to the first floor.

"Good morning, dearest. I suppose you have already breakfasted? Is Mama—?"

"Yes," replied Eden shortly. "I believe she is just finishing."

"Oh, good. I wish to speak to her about the gown we purchased last week for the Wellerton's ball. I'm going shopping with Melisande Cooper and her mother this morning, and I wish to purchase some ribbon for it. I'm undecided what color I should choose." She laughed. "We may say what we like about Mama's sense of fashion, but she does have an unerring eye for color."

"Indeed," replied Eden, her good humor gradually returning. She surveyed Zoë. Her sister had not been entirely silent on the subject of the Marquess of Belhaven, but somehow this proved more reassuring to Eden than if she had forborne to speak of him at all. She only uttered his name, however, in the most casual manner, commenting on the latest on
dit
in which he featured, or the latest scandal attached to his name. She received her gentleman callers with a pretty enthusiasm, and had even received with every appearance of pleasure the marked attentions of the very young Viscount Hadley. Eden was beginning to conclude that her infatuation with the marquess, if it could be called that, had mercifully been as brief as it had been intense.

Eden wondered if the same could not be said for the marquess's foster brother. To her distinct disappointment, her friendship with Seth proved to be just that. Since the visit to Kensington Palace, his behavior toward her had been exemplary—one of courteous affection, with no hint that he wished their relationship to progress to a more intimate level.

What, she speculated, had been his response to the kiss that had so shattered her well-ordered existence? She had felt a union with him that she had never experienced with another soul. Had he felt the same?

Was he, she mused, laughing at herself as she did so, even now thinking of her, and of the moment they had shared in that blossom-scented bower?

She would have been astonished to know that Seth was doing precisely that. He had retired late after a meeting with the other directors in one of the duke's companies. Now, as occurred so often lately, he had difficulty in finding sleep. Instead, he lay staring at the canopy above his bed, seeing before him a lifted face, framed with a mahogany sweep of hair, misty eyes clouded with passion.

He had kissed many women. What man reaching his age and station in life had not? The kiss stolen in her studio had stirred him. He had been utterly undone by the embrace in Kensington. If he had not been restored to sanity by the sound of approaching voices. God knew what the result might have been. In another moment, he might have tried to take her right there on that secluded path. What, he mused further, with a quickening of his pulse, would have been her response to such an attempt? Her icy little speech on the way home indicated that she would have given him short shrift. However, he believed that something in her had cried out to him in that stabbing instant of communion, that she, too, had experienced a consuming fever in the blood, a desperate wanting to become part of him.

God, what was happening to him? Ever since the episode with Melissa, he had been careful to confine his amours to certain kinds of women—women of easy morals who understood the rules. Certainly, this group included a few highborn ladies; however, he had not desired a permanent relationship with any of them. Nor did he wish one now, he told himself. In any event, Miss Eden Beckett was not the sort to slip into a discreet affair of the sort that was so common among the
beau monde.
No, Eden was of the marrying kind, and, as he very well knew, that meant a man of her own class—a gentleman with whom she would live a life of gentility and produce a future generation of little ladies and gentlemen. She and her genteel family would inhabit a world where the son of an army sergeant might be tolerated, but would never be fully accepted.

True, she had spoken to him of his own worth, and she appeared genuinely convinced that a man could create his own way in the world, but he knew very well that her high-sounding principles were merely a vague ideal, with no application in the real world of arranged unions and the awareness that wealth and privilege were only for the chosen.

So, what was he to do about the delectable Miss Beckett? He had already decided to take himself out of the business of procuring a wife for Bel. He had yet to confront his father with this decision, and he did not look forward to the occasion with pleasure. The Duke of Derwent was not accustomed to having his will thwarted. All that aside, however, he had made his decision, and thus he could simply expunge Eden from his life. He was surprised at the pang this thought caused. Lord, the girl had sneaked into his life when he wasn't looking, and had become more important to him than he could have dreamed just a few short weeks ago. Eden had become a friend, and he did not have so many of those that he could afford to discard one.

No, he would continue his relationship with Eden, provided she had not concluded after his behavior at Kensington that she wished to have nothing more to do with him. He turned into his pillow, his resolution firmly in place. Somewhere within him, a well of despair brimmed, a knowledge that he could never hope to be more than a friend to her, but he ignored this thought as frivolous. Love could be bought, after all, and when and if he felt the need for a wife, he would simply select one of his own station. After all, he had the wealth to make such a choice without fear of rejection.

At long last, he slept.

Chapter Sixteen

Over the next few weeks, Eden found herself increasingly busy. Mr. Rellihan sold three more of her paintings and asked if she could not provide him with a few more. Much to her pleasure, she was now possessed of a fund of money that boded well for her future independence. True to his word, albeit with marked disapproval, Seth accompanied her to the prestigious precincts of Courts' Bank, where he introduced her to its proprietor. Although this gentleman expressed some surprise at her request to open an account under a fictitious name, the presence and apparent patronage of her companion worked a powerful magic. In short order, her mission was accomplished, and she stared dazedly at her account book, already approaching four figures.

"Oh, Seth," she breathed a little later as she held the book reverently over the table of one of the coffeehouses that dotted London's financial district. "This is going better than I ever dreamed. Why, in a year or two, I shall be able to move into my own domicile—ruler of my own destiny—mistress of my fate!"

Seth smiled, but a hint of concern flared in his dark gaze. Unconsciously, his hand reached out to grip hers. Eden made no move to withdraw it.

"My dear..." Eden made no response to the appellation. "I cannot think it proper to keep your new venture a secret from your father. No, no," he continued as Eden opened her mouth. "Do but listen. Even if you do accrue enough money to move into your own home, such a course may still be closed to you. Do you not realize that you may do nothing without his permission? Once he realizes that you have sufficient funds to make yourself independent, he need only demand that they be turned over to him. He can and most probably will refuse to allow you to leave his home. He could kick up all sorts of unpleasantness, including having you declared mentally incompetent, to prevent you from reaching your ambition. It would be much better if you were to acknowledge your present activity to him and try to persuade him into accepting your goals."

Eden grimaced. "You obviously don't know my father very well. Persuading him into any course of action once he has set his face against it is like trying to batter through the walls of the Tower."

"Nonsense." Seth smiled expansively. "Look at Zoë. Look and learn. That little minx could talk Lord Beckett into riding naked through the streets of Coventry."

Eden stiffened. "I am not Zoë," she said shortly. "As you may have noticed, I am not endowed with golden curls and a winsome smile, nor do I hold the promise of acquiring a substantial
parti.
My only hope of happiness is to pursue my own path." She laughed ruefully. "Goodness, that sounds like a line from a very bad play, does it not?" Her expression grew serious again. "Nevertheless, I plan to keep my successes to myself and watch my little pile of guineas grow." She glanced swiftly up at him. "You will not take it upon yourself to tell Papa what I am doing?" she asked anxiously. "You did promise, you know."

"Of course I know." Seth's eyes sparked. "I am not likely to forget when I have given my word. I am merely saying I believe you're mistaken."

Eden relaxed. "Warning taken and noted," she said, smiling. She lifted her nose in a spurious air of condescension. "Never fear, my good man. You will be rewarded amply for your efforts on my behalf. I shall leave you a substantial bit in my will of my gargantuan pile of earnings."

With that, Seth apparently decided to be content, for he turned the conversation to other matters as they sipped the remainder of their coffee.

Over the next week, Eden worked apace on the portraits of the Weirhaven children and received commissions to start in on two more portraits. She attempted to curtail her social activities, but Mama would have none of it.

"Eden, you must come with us this evening. To be invited to Lady Childers's musicale is a real coup. We met at the duke's dinner, but she did not seem interested in pursuing an acquaintance. I was never more surprised in my life to receive her invitation, because I know for a fact that the Meechams did not get one, and Lavinia Meecham has known Lady Childers for this age."

"Yes, but Mama, why must I be there?" Eden asked impatiently. "It is Zoë we're trying to push off, remember."

"Because she always feels more secure when you're there. She still does not know many of the young people in that set, and nothing can be more lowering than standing about by oneself with no one to talk to."

"You will be there."

"Yes, but I shall be seated with the matrons. It would present an extremely odd appearance for me to be flitting about the company like one of the youngsters. Besides—" She paused and shot a quick glance at her daughter, nervously twisting one of her many bracelets. "Well, it was the oddest thing. I encountered Lady Shipstead the other day at the new silk warehouse in Leicester Square. You know, the Duke of Derwent's sister. She asked me if we would be attending Lady Childers's musicale and seemed extraordinarily gratified when I said yes. Eden," concluded Lady Beckett in a puzzled voice, "she said that she had particularly enjoyed meeting you at the duke's dinner party and looked forward to seeing you again. What do you make of that?"

"Why, I'm bound to say I don't know what to make of it, Mama," replied Eden, equally baffled. "Are you sure she said my name? Perhaps she had me mixed up with Zoë. She hasn't spoken to either one of us above a few times."

Lady Beckett frowned dubiously. "Perhaps, but she seemed quite emphatic. At any rate, you really must come, Eden."

Some hours later, Zoë seconded the demand, with the result that when the Beckett family sallied forth to the Childers town home on the following Tuesday, the elder Miss Beckett was among their number.