“She’s unstoppable,” Thea enthused. “First the portraits, then the landscapes, and now... well, you’ll just have to wander the rooms and see where Lulu’s boundless imagination has led her.”
“I want to speak with you more, Ana, but I see one of my patronesses.” Lulu curtsied to Dex and waved at Miss Crewe. “I’ll be back soon!”
Dex offered Miss Crewe his arm. The portraiture lining the first room was lovely, even Dex could admit that. Lulu painted each subject honestly, without the fawning embellishments sometimes favored by portrait artists, and yet, that honesty made each person glow with unique personality and beauty.
Miss Crewe approached a larger portrait of a good-looking fair-haired man. “This one is extraordinary. See how the subject is garbed all in simple black and standing in a sparsely furnished room at dusk, but the austerity of his surroundings serves only to enhance the gentleman’s beauty. Who is he?”
“Patrick Fellowes. Thea’s brother-in-law. Shall we?” Dex attempted to steer her to the next portrait but she continued staring at Fellowes.
“He’s really quite extraordinarily handsome, don’t you think?”
Dex had never considered whether the lawyer and occasional business partner was handsome. “He’s passably attractive, I suppose.”
“‘Passably?’ ‘Attractive’? I’ve never heard fainter praise. He’s a positive Adonis! Look at those golden locks, and his excellent proportions. Why, the ladies must break their fans flirting with him—if he’s a bachelor, that is.”
He stirred uncomfortably, wishing they were conversing on any other topic. “He’s a widower with a young son.”
“I thought I detected a note of sadness in those fine blue eyes.” She seemed to savor the thought, like a cat satisfied by a saucer of cream. “It must make him even more appealing to the ladies. He looks precisely how I envision Lord Fortescue in my novel. Perhaps I should make my hero a widower. It could spark sympathy in the readers, give him a poignant dimension. Make their cheerseven lustier when he wins Adora’s hand and vanquishes the avaricious Sir Archer.”
In other words, Patrick was a handsome widower, a perfect candidate to play the hero in her novel, while Dex was the scarred, taciturn villain unfit to win the sweet, intrepid heroine’s hand. Right. That was the way of it, the truth. Then why did the truth sting? And why did he want to change her thinking on the subject? He was conscious of a need to diminish the annoyingly attractive young man in her wide green eyes.
“Mr. Fellowes is a scholarly man, a lawyer and historian. Even though he’s brother to a duke, he eschews all titles and privileges, preferring an ascetic life. It’s his brother, the Duke of Osborne, that does the dirty work of vanquishing villains.”
“He wields the pen over the sword,” she said dreamily. “I’m beginning to think I may need to rewrite my hero.”
“For heaven’s sake, you’re putting the man on a pedestal before you even make his acquaintance. He spends his evenings with a thick lawyerly tome and his days in court. He’s rebuffed all attempts at matchmaking.”
“Why, Your Grace.” Miss Crewe smiled widely and tapped his arm with her ivory fan. “You’re not jealous of a painting, are you?” She searched his face. “You are!”
“Am not,” he grumbled. “Let’s move along.”
“Enjoying my portrait?” a voice inquired from behind them.
They both turned. Dex nearly groaned aloud. “Patrick. Speak of the devil.”
“It’s you!” Miss Crewe said, her face lighting up. “In the flesh.”
Patrick bowed. “Indeed. Warburton, will you introduce us?”
“Patrick, this is my ward, Miss Crewe. Miss Crewe, Patrick Fellowes.”
“I apologize, Mr. Fellowes, but I might just call you Lord Fortescue! You see, you’re the very image I have in mind while writing a character in my novel.”
“Is that right? And how did you describe me?”
“Broad of shoulder, a noble nose, hair the color of wheat stalks on a summer’s day. A peaceful expression, a serene smile, an obliging personality.”
“That’s me to a fault.” He chuckled delightedly. “It’s almost as if we were old friends, yet we’ve only just met and hardly know each other. Shall we take a turn around the room and remedy that situation, Miss Crewe?” He bowed and offered her a sturdy arm, which she took gladly, smiling into his appreciative face.
Dex fought a sudden urge to knock their arms apart.
How had he never noticed how handsome and charming Patrick was? He was a bachelor by choice, but perhaps all he had needed was to meet the right young lady. One who already appeared to idolize him though they had only just met. The way she was looking up at him, laughing at every word he uttered. His speech was easy and intelligent and... he already had a child. A family of two just waiting for an agreeable third.
“Stop glaring daggers at my brother’s back.” Dalton, Duke of Osborne, joined Dex at the refreshments table.
“I’m not glaring.”
“You are. If looks could wound, he’d be writhing on the floor in agony. Your ward is quite safe with him. He’s a lawyer, not a rake.”