CHAPTER
9
MUST YOU MAKE so much noise?” Langham groaned.
In fact, the china had made only a tiny clink as the footman carefully set the coffee tray next to the bed.
Henry glared at his brother. “Must you drink so much that it leaves your head as tender as chopped steak?”
He ensured the door made a good solid thunk as he closed it after the footman left the room. He did not normally wish ill on people, but he did take satisfaction in seeing his brother wince again.
Langham dragged himself to a seated position and placed a palm against his forehead. “I admit I feel rather crapulous this morning.”
Henry blew out a breath. After years of study at Oxford and Lincoln’s Inn, Langham retained little more than an archaic word for feeling ill after too much drinking. He poured coffee into a cup and thrust it unceremoniously into his brother’s hands. “What are you doing in London? You weren’t to leave the sanitarium without the doctor’s permission.”
“You know what that sanitarium is,” Langham returned sourly. “It’s no health spa. It’s for mad people.” He took a swig of his coffee. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m perfectly sane. What’s more, I have important business to attend to.”
“I suppose your main office is located inside a dingy public house?”
“Mock me if you want; I don’t care. Last week I met with Sir Coutts Lindsay, who owns the Grosvenor Gallery. I showed him my work, and he was highly impressed. He wants to display two of my paintings in the October show.”
“And just what is he planning? A vanity show for wealthy dilettantes?”
Langham raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad we are still managing to convince people we’re rich.”
Henry was sorely tempted to snatch the cup from Langham’s hands and hit him over the head with it. He might have done so, except his hand hurt like the devil from being slammed in the carriage door. “We’d be in a lot better position if you didn’t keep wasting money. Or if you actually earned some. You need to find a real occupation, Langham. Maybe you don’t mind playing a starving artist, but I’m the one who must ultimately pay those bills you’re piling up.”
“You needn’t act so desperate. We all know you’ll have the family fortunes repaired in no time. That LLC in Cumbria is set to make piles of money.”
“Unfortunately, I was pushed out of the deal after the Duke of Crandall came on board.”
Langham looked at him in surprise, then gave a nod of understanding. “Still harboring that grudge over your speeches against annexing the South African Republic? You’d think he’d reconsider, seeing all the trouble it has caused since.”
“He also worries about my unstable brother.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Langham looked truly affronted, which would have made Henry laugh were the situation not so serious.
“People talk. They know why you were in that sanitarium.”
“Baseless rumors. I told you those fireplaces were bad.”
“Be that as it may, that is where we stand. I need you to do your part to help this family. I’ve received tentative approval from the Council at Lincoln’s Inn for you to return there in October—if you can behave yourself.”
Heaving a sigh, Langham set his coffee cup aside. “Let me explain this again.” He spoke with exasperating condescension. “I am never going back to Lincoln’s Inn. Painting is my occupation. I intend to make money from my art.”
“I can see how getting falling-down drunk in a pub is a good way to accomplish that.”
“I’m not going to argue with you about it.” Langham pushed back the covers. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to bathe and get dressed, return to my lodgings, and get back to work.”
“No, Langham. Your lodgings are right here. I can’t have you off living somewhere like a bohemian.” Henry wanted his brother where he could watch over him.
Langham frowned. “My clothes and supplies are at Holland Park Road.”
“The address on the tailor’s bill.”
“So that’s how you found me. I hoped it would be several more weeks before you saw it.”
“When I went to the house, the maid told me the name of the pub where you’d all gone.”
Langham must have caught the censure in Henry’s voice. “Staying with Adrian is an excellent opportunity. I can learn a lot. He’s a respected painter and making a fair living at it. You would know that if you’d bothered to look into it.”
“I have looked into it, as it happens,” Henry replied. “I know that most of Adrian D’Adamo’s work involves scene painting and other commercial projects. I also know that he is living with a woman he calls his cousin, while his wife lives in India. Is that really what you call respectable?”
“I said he is a respected painter. Respectable is some adjective the blue-blood set and the middle class wring their hands over. Adrian’s work is in demand. So is Georgiana’s. They are seasoned artists, in addition to being decent people. That business about them being paramours is gossip, nothing more. Besides, do you really want me to set up a studio here? The only good light in this house is in the best parlor. I feel sure Mother would object to the room smelling of turpentine while she receives visitors during her at-home days.”
Henry clenched his fists in frustration. He could not deny that adding Langham to this house would only increase tensions all around. But he could see no way around it, and it helped that the others were away for now. “It’s only temporary. We’re returning to Morestowe in a few weeks, and in the meantime, Mother has gone to Brighton with Amelia.”
“Has she?” Langham lifted an eyebrow. “I thought she could not abide the girl. She seems to have it in for the governess, too, as I recall.”
“Nevertheless, they have all gone together.”
“Well, that sounds cozy.” With this dismissal, Langham dropped his feet over the side of the bed. “I must get in some work while the light is good. I will sleep here, if you insist. But I have committed myself to producing two paintings for the Grosvenor, and I must paint in a proper studio if I’m to create work fit for it. Even you must be aware that the Grosvenor Gallery has an excellent reputation. The Prince of Wales himself attended the opening gala! It’s difficult to get more haute than that. You might not think much of artists, but you have to admit that my being invited to show there cannot actually harm the family reputation in any way.”
“I’m not prepared to admit anything of the sort. I haven’t even seen your work, as you won’t show it to your family. Suppose the critics agree that it is no good?”
His brother gave him a dark look. “Then you will be happy to see your brother fail at the wrong thing instead of the right one.”
Langham’s style of debating would have been effective in Parliament; he was a master at using his adversary’s words to drive him into a corner.
Langham leaned over and pressed the call bell. “One benefit of being forced to live here is that there are servants to draw the bath.” He pressed his hand to his head. “It will need to be a hot one to clear my brain. The sooner I get to the studio, the better. I need to see how Cara is getting along. She seems like a stray kitten at times, and she’s bound to be unsettled by the scene you made at the pub last night.”
A stray kitten? Casting his mind back, Henry could think of no one in that pub who fit such a description. Every woman there looked hardened from frequent visits to the gin trough. Except for the one with the fresh face and large blue eyes. “Do you mean the blonde standing near D’Adamo? She lit up like some kind of firebrand when I started to take you from the pub.”
“That’s the one. Miss Cara Bernay.” Langham smiled. “She has more spirit in her than I thought.”
“That wasn’t Georgiana Marshall?”
“Oh, goodness, no. Georgiana is older and not nearly as pretty.”
Miss Bernay’s actions made more sense now. If she was somehow dependent on Langham, she’d be distressed to see him go. However, this information only aroused a new fear in Henry. Langham had been led astray by a woman before. Henry couldn’t allow him to get entangled with another. “Exactly who is this Cara Bernay?”
“She’s new to London. She wants to be a painter, and she’s doing some modeling, too. She’s a stunner, is she not?”
Henry wasn’t fond of that slang word, but he couldn’t deny she was beautiful. Based on what Langham had just said, she planned to capitalize on that trait to make her living. It brought to mind another expression making the rounds these days: professional beauty. These were often models or actresses and not generally known to have the highest morals. Henry found this a depressing thought. Despite the energetic way she’d tried to stand up to him last night, Miss Bernay had looked young and innocent. Perhaps she was, if she was new to London. Unfortunately, a career as a professional beauty would leave her jaded before long. Henry didn’t know why it bothered him so deeply, but it did.
All the more reason he needed to keep a close eye on his brother. “We’re moving back to the estate in a few weeks’ time. There have been delays completing the east wing, but the rest of the house will be habitable soon. We can set up a studio for you there. In the meantime, you may continue to paint at D’Adamo’s place. But I want to see what you are working on.”
Langham replied to this pronouncement with a deferential droop of his head. “I thank you humbly for your kind permission, my lord.”
Henry wasn’t fooled. Langham was the one who called the tunes. Henry just played along as best he could and tried to find a way to pay the band.
“You look stunning!” Georgiana enthused. “Simply beautiful.”
Cara stood still as Georgiana fussed with the folds of the garment. To call what she was wearing a “gown” would not have been accurate, for this was loose and flowing, just like the picture of a woman from ancient Greece that she’d once seen in a book.
With the garment in place to her satisfaction, Georgiana began to weave flowers and a blue ribbon into Cara’s hair. Cara watched her transformation in the mirror with fascination. Soon she would not only resemble a book drawing, but she herself would be forever captured in a real painting.
Her exhilaration was lessened only by her worries about Langham. They’d heard nothing of him since he’d been taken from the pub by the earl. She had no doubt he was all right, aside from the possible ill effects of too much drinking. Even though Lord Morestowe had sent murderous glares at his brother, Cara didn’t think he would actually hurt him. After all, he was a member of the aristocracy! They didn’t do such things—did they?
Cara shook her head and ended up pulling against Georgiana’s hands.
“Is something wrong?” Georgiana asked.
Cara met her eyes in the mirror. “Do you think Langham will come back?”
“I’m certain of it. He’s had run-ins with Lord Morestowe before. His lordship doesn’t understand Langham’s desire to be an artist. They are like oil and water, those two.”
“How can you be sure he’ll return?”
“He’s got to paint, hasn’t he? All his materials and works in progress are here. He’s not going to abandon those.”
Cara took some comfort in that. Still, she wasn’t entirely at ease. “Suppose his lordship makes him go away?”
Georgiana paused to look at Cara more closely. “You’re not falling in love with him, are you?”
“Of course not! It’s just that, well, he’s been so helpful to me. And he brought me here and asked you and Adrian if I could stay.”
Georgiana went back to working on Cara’s hair. “We have no objection to your staying here for now. We might leave, though, in a week or two. My family has been urging us to join them on holiday in Blackpool.”
It was a reminder to Cara that, as much as she enjoyed being here, this was a temporary situation. Was she only putting off the inevitable—seeking help from her own family? Maybe she’d been foolish to think she could strike out on her own so soon.
“We can discuss all that later,” Georgiana said, tucking the last bit of ribbon behind one of Cara’s curls. “Let’s go show you to Adrian.”
As they went downstairs to the studio, Cara told herself to take things one day at a time. She’d seen many times at the orphanage that answers to prayers could come out of nowhere, and hardly ever in the expected way. Hadn’t she experienced that already, given the events that had transpired since she’d arrived in London? This bolstered her soul and gave her greater confidence for the future.
Adrian was pleased with Cara’s costume and set to work finding the best light to put her in. He had her stand on a raised platform and try several poses.
“But aren’t there supposed to be three of us?” Cara asked. “Where are the other two?”
“That’s what I’d like to know, too,” Adrian replied with a frown. “They are late.”
He’d hardly finished speaking when the doorbell rang.
“That’ll be the ladies, no doubt,” Georgiana said.
Cara caught a glimpse of their maid, Susan, hurrying down the hallway to open the front door.
A minute later, it wasn’t the sound of ladies Cara heard approaching. It was men’s voices. Langham strolled into the studio. Cara was overjoyed to see him, but her greeting snagged in her throat when she saw who was with him.
The Earl of Morestowe paused the moment he laid eyes on her. His raised eyebrows and slightly open mouth conveyed surprise—shock, even. It was no wonder. Her Grecian robes offered far less coverage than a proper frock. A shiver skittered across her bare neck and shoulders. She became acutely aware that the full length of her arms was exposed, along with her feet and ankles. Why hadn’t she felt uncomfortable like this with Adrian? The whole atmosphere of the room changed with the earl’s entrance. Embarrassment flooded through her.
In her confusion, she dropped her eyes from his bold look that seemed to take in every part of her. As she did so, she noticed the bandage around his left hand. She remembered how the coachman had accidentally shut the door on it the night before. Cara’s heart, already aflutter from mortification, began to beat wildly. An idea played at the far edges of her mind, but she wasn’t sure she dared to believe it.