Chapter 4: Scoundrel
Seduction
Your father tries his best to keep my spirits up, knowing I long for word from you whenever a letter arrives. But there is never word for me.
Kim went directly to her painting room as soon as the sun had come up. She could spend most of her day painting. It let her think about nothing except the picture she was working on. Her marriage and Cyril were the farthest thing from her mind. At least for now.
Setting her freshly cleaned paintbrush down on the lip of the easel. Kim stood back and studied her latest work.
The lighting was off. The position of the dark-haired woman sitting on a chair, holding nothing but a sheer orange scarf, did not evoke the image that was clear in her mind. Her form, she supposed, was pleasing enough, the s high and overly generous in size, her waist narrow, her hips with the slightest flare. The dark-eyed beauty was missing a twinkle in her eye, something that promised naughty intentions. All in all, it wasn't bad. But it would need a great deal more tweaking before it was just right.
With a heavy sigh she plopped herself into the cushioned rocking chair.
A shame she'd not found a more lady-like hobby over the years. She'd once found a painting in the attic at her country estate of a woman ally splayed across a bed. It had grapsed onto her imagination like a lure reeling in a helpless fish. From that point forward, she couldn't rest until she had painted the female from just once.
That first painting had been her own form, since she had been too afraid to ask another woman to sit for her. Too afraid to share her secret with anyone at the time. She had sold it in a fit of anger on her twenty-third birthday. She'd been furious that her husband had ignored her for another year. That he had wanted nothing to do with her. It had been her only truly rebellious act against the unjust life she had been given.
She hadn't told her friend Jared, the Duke of Vane, that the painting was a likeness of her. He was the only person aside from her sisters who knew of the portrayals she spent so much time perfecting. In fact, he'd known about them before her sisters were privy to the information, as he was the one who sold the pieces for her.
She remembered the day she'd delivered the painting to him; a deal had been secured at that point. That had been the only time she'd ever seen Jared angry. His words had been colorful as he'd reprimanded her for selling something no man had right to see. But the deal had been struck and could not be undone. Jared had made her promise never to paint another of herself. She'd agreed not because she wished she had thought long and hard about releasing that painting to the public.
With that thought, Cyril came to mind. He had been a friend to her and her sisters for the past year. Cyril would not get away with treating her so poorly. She'd make her feelings clear to the man. That she wanted her painting returned, and that none of the Chiu women would have anything to do with him in the future. If that didin't work, she'd ask Jared to retrieve the painting by other menas.
Because if she didn't retrieve the painting she feared Gerald would find out about it. She wished she'd never set eyes on her husband. Wished he hadn't threatened to come home. Though she had a hard time believing he would come to the town house.
How long had he been in England? She knew he traveled the world extensively, was sure he had a hous ein India, too; that was the extent of her knowledge, since he'd never bothered to send his father word of his whereabouts. And it wasn't as though he'd write to her or, God forbid, pay her a visit when he was in England. Why should he visit her? He hadn't even come home for his father's funeral.
Fate was cruel, vicious.
She stood and untied her apron strings, trying to rid her mind of all the questions and worries plaguing her. The draped were drawn back, the sun warming the room quickly at this hour. Not only would she swelter in here midday from the midsummer heat, but she'd not be left in peace hiding in here past luchtime. Her sisters would come looking for her soon if she didn't meet them for a walk, as was part of their usual morning ritual. When she stepped outside, her sisters were sitting ariund the wrought-iron table in the small garden path, luncheon already set up.
Twinkle, the youngest sister, looked up from her book and raised a conspiratorial brow. "See. I told you she'd be down before the noon hour. Guilt at abondoning us to our own devices has a tendency to gnaw at her."
"Couldn't you have stayed in your painting room for a while longer?" Kam asked.
"I'm sure you were minutes away from retrieving me. What did you lose, Kam?"
Kam sulked. "My pearl earrings."
"You really shoud know better than the betting your odds against Twinkle." Kim rubbed her hand over Kam's arm in soothing gesture. "I don't think you've ever won."
The footman standing by the serving cart pulled the cast-iron chair out of her. When she settled her skirts under the table, he dropped a serviette in her lap. A plate of fresh fruits and another with layers of sandwiches was set in front of her.
"Thank you. Take a break indoors." she told the man.
With a bow, he retreated. Today, private matters amongst sisters needed to be discussed, and Kim did not want to hear whisperings of it from the staff at a later date. They had pristine reputations to keep intact. Well, her two sisters did. Kim was merely tolerated in the society. She'd long ago been scorned for her inability to keep her husband from wandering foreign lands, indulging in all sorts of trade. Then there was her longtime association with the Duke of Vane- the only person to ever befriend an awkward young woman whose husband had run off. Vane was also the embodiment of the word wicked, and a pleasure seeker in the most carnal of senses. It was no wonder so many thought she was having an affair with such a man: Many women couldn't resist him.
If word ever escaped that she painted senses that some of the richest lords, owned, she'd be completely banished from polite society.
Kim had filled Kam in on everything that had happened in the bawdy house when they'd gone up to bed the previous night. Twinkle, probably knew all those details by now. Kim hadn't been able to bring herself to talk about the letter Cyril had written. She'd not be able to hide it much longer since he planned to visit her at Mansfield Hall.
Kam was first to break the silence. "What are you going to do about Cyril?"
She leaned back into the cold support of the chair. "I don't know."
"Didn't he at least leave a note?" Twinkle's eyes widened when she didn't respond. "I knew it. Tell us what that rapscallion said."
"He said he would meet me at the country house. We will have to leave tomorrow."
"And what of your husband? What will you do if he comes here looking for you?" Grace asked.
The idea was so ludicrous that she laughed. "Gerald will not come here. Not with the three of us in residence. I'm worried, yes, because I've made a mess of things. It was unwise of me to sell that portrait."
"Kim, you're being too hard on yourself. Your art is very exclusive and should have never found itself in the hands of that scoundrel."
"What am I going to do if Gerald finds out?"
"How will he?" Kam said.
Kim did not want him to come home. Not with everything in her life upside down at the moment. Perhaps her sister was right. Perhaps her secrets were safe.
"Now. what do we do with Cyril?" Twinkle asked.
Kim cast her eyes toward her half-empty plate. "I'll figure him out when the time comes."
"I ought to pay the man a visit, give him a few choice words to swallow." Kam forked a mouthful of melon viciously.
"You can't. Let me handle Cyril on my own way."
"I don't think you can reason with the man. It's obvious what he wants." Twinkle was quick to say.
"And what is that," Kam shot back.
" I may not have married, probably never will, seeing as I'm so long in the tooth, but I'll not play ignorant with my sisters. I know what happens in the marriage bed, outside of it for that matter." Twinkle gave them both a piercing glare that dared them to ask more. "Don't you see what Cyril wants?"
Yes, she'd suspected Cyril intentions in luring her to a house that catered to women with loose morals.
"Twinkle Chiu, you will not say such things!" Kam admonished. "Some devil has taken hold of your tongue." Did Kam wished to shield Kim from this truth? It was pointless to do such a thing.
"I think the devil more or less ran away with it long ago." Twinkle grinned at them both, closed her book, set it on the table, and picked up a vine full of grapes.
Kim cut off a retort from Kam. "Leave Cyril to me."
Kam ripped off a chunk of bread from the center of the table and sat heavily in her chair, glaring at Twinkle.
"Why do you suppose he never showed?" Twinkle remarked, finger tapping her lip in thought as she focused on Kim again.
"I don't know. Maybe he saw Gerald and decided to leave? Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he's already revealed the truth."
"He hasn't. We would have heard something by now." Kam patted her hand in comforting gesture. "We'll have to wait and see what happens when we return to Mansfield Hall."
All three sisters nodded their agreement.
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