Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady. Diane Gaston

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      ‘He gave me your mother’s direction. A few doors up from here, eh?’ Tranville’s tone was pleasant, but Jack did not miss the hint of menace beneath it.

      He gripped the door knob. ‘Speak plain, sir.’

      Tranville smiled, and Jack recoiled in disgust. ‘Why, I thought I would call upon her. That is all.’

      Jack’s nostrils flared.

      Tranville’s smile fled. ‘Surely you have no objection.’

      Jack had a barrelful of objections, but none he could voice. As much as he despised the idea, his mother would desire the visit. ‘It is my mother’s decision.’

      Tranville sauntered towards the door, retrieving his hat and gloves. As he passed Jack, he paused and leaned close. ‘I always get my way, Jack.’

      The rumble of imaginary cannon fire sounded in Jack’s ear. A battle loomed, Jack would wager, this time in his London rooms and not on the battlefield.

      

      It took Jack an hour before he could again focus on Mr Slayton’s portrait, attending to its finishing touches. Better to concentrate on the tiniest brush stroke than to dwell upon Tranville visiting his mother.

      He peered at the painting before him. He’d posed Mr Slayton at a desk with a pen in his hand. It would have been faster to merely paint the banker’s head on a dark background, but Jack preferred some context to his painting, some sense of movement. Whether it had emotion, he could not tell. The emotion Ariana had seen in his two paintings at Somerset House had been unconsciously done.

      He picked up a small brush and stared at the painting, but saw Ariana instead. Thoughts of her were the best antidote to the encounter with Tranville. He might see her today. He planned to visit the theatre this afternoon.

      Another knock sounded at the door. Jack braced himself for a further intrusion by Tranville, but the person knocking apparently did not feel entitled to burst in as Tranville had done. The knock came again. Jack put down his palette, wiped his brush and crossed the room to open the door.

      ‘Jack!’ Nancy entered. ‘Mama wishes to see you.’

      ‘What has happened?’ What has Tranville done? he meant.

      She pinched his arm. ‘Nothing terrible.’ She smiled. ‘Lord Tranville called upon her.’

      He frowned. ‘Did he upset her?’

      Nancy looked puzzled. ‘Of course not. She was in raptures. You know how Mama feels about him.’

      Yes, but he could not fathom it. ‘Then why does she wish to see me?’

      ‘I am not certain.’ Nancy removed her cloak and hung it on one of the pegs by the door. ‘I did not remain with them above a few minutes. Lord Tranville said very pretty things to me. And to Mama. It was quite a pleasure to see him.’

      ‘Is he still there?’ If so, Jack preferred to avoid him.

      She shook her head. ‘He left, and then Mama asked me to fetch you.’

      Jack walked over to his easel to clean his brushes. He covered his palette with a cloth so that the paint would not dry and wiped his hands. ‘Give me a moment to change my clothes.’

      

      A few minutes later he and Nancy walked the short distance to his mother’s set of rooms on Adam Street. Jack liked having his family near after the long separation of war, and Tranville’s money could well pay for rooms in both London and Bath, but his mother would have been far wiser to save that money for Nancy’s future.

      Nancy paused mid-step. ‘Do you think Lord Tranville has asked Mama to marry him? Perhaps that is why she wants to see you?’

      He gave a dry laugh. ‘That is a ridiculous notion, Nancy.’

      She pursed her lips. ‘Why is it ridiculous? He is an eligible man now.’

      He shook his head. ‘He has not seen fit to call upon her for over a year. That is hardly prelude to a proposal.’

      Nancy gaped at him as if he’d lost his wits. ‘Surely Lord Tranville was concerned as to how it would appear to see Mama so soon after his wife died. He was being protective of her reputation.’

      Jack resumed walking. ‘He was never so protective of her reputation before his wife died.’

      She hurried to catch up. ‘You do not understand it at all. Now that he is an eligible man of rank, it becomes more important to protect her from talk.’

      Jack bit his tongue. He’d always tried to shield Nancy from the sordid reality of Tranville’s relationship with their mother. He wasn’t about to change now.

      ‘I do not understand why you dislike Tranville so.’ Nancy looked wounded.

      Jack never intended for Nancy to think well of Tranville, merely to prevent her from thinking ill of their mother. ‘I suppose I dislike him because he is not our father.’ And because he so quickly replaced their father in their mother’s bed.

      She squeezed his arm. ‘I cannot remember our father like you do. I only remember that Tranville helped our mother when we were so poor.’

      They had never been so poor that their mother would not have had a chance for a respectable second marriage. Tranville ruined that for her.

      They arrived at his mother’s door, but Nancy held him back. ‘Can you not perceive the situation between Mama and Lord Tranville as romantic?’

      ‘Romantic?’ He could not lie. ‘No, I cannot.’

      ‘Well, I can.’ Her tone was definite. ‘They have loved each other for so many years, but because Lord Tranville was married, they could not be together. Even so, he loved her with such a passion he could never stay away completely.’

      He gave her a disapproving look. ‘A passion?’

      She lifted her chin. ‘I am not a child any more. I know what happens between a man and a woman.’

      Jack put his hand on the doorknob. ‘What happens between a man and a woman is not necessarily romantic, my dear sister.’

      Nancy stood her ground. ‘He must love her. He pays for everything for her. Our food. Our house. Everything.’

      ‘He has done so.’ It was the only thing to Tranville’s credit and it had always puzzled Jack. A man of Tranville’s character would cut funds the minute he tired of a woman.

      ‘Why would he spend that money on her if he did not love her?’ Nancy asked.

      ‘I confess, I do not know,’ Jack responded honestly, turning the knob and ending the discussion.

      When they entered the rented rooms, their mother’s manservant, Wilson, appeared in the hall to take Nancy’s cloak and Jack’s hat and gloves. ‘Your mother awaits you in the parlour.’

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