If His Kiss Is Wicked. Jo Goodman

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ one of Marisol’s hands. “Certain tragedy has been averted. Would you not agree, Mr. Gardner?”

      “I can find no fault with Miss Vega’s exposition.”

      “I am accounted to be the artist in the family, but I daresay that it is Marisol who paints the more colorful and dramatic pictures.”

      Marisol gave her father’s shoulders a squeeze. “You know I do not paint at all, so have off with your pretty compliments.”

      Restell observed Sir Arthur shared an indulgent, almost helpless, smile with Emma when Marisol failed to understand the import of his words. Clearly Marisol was the victim of her father’s lowered expectations. The surge of pity Restell felt for her caught him unaware. He ruthlessly suppressed it but understood he would have to consider what it meant later. It was the sort of emotion, he’d found, that made him vulnerable.

      “Am I to be permitted, then, to purchase these sketches?” Restell asked.

      “Of course,” Sir Arthur said. “I would make you a gift of them, but my niece will not allow it. Is that not correct, Emmalyn?”

      “Someone must protect you against these moments of impulsive generosity,” Emma said. “But before I arrange the sale, Uncle, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that Mr. Gardner’s interest in your work is not all that brought him here today. You must listen to him first and then decide if you want him to have your drawings.”

      Sir Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Is that so, Mr. Gardner?” He brushed his daughter’s hands aside as he sat up straighter. His feet remained supported by the hassock, but his bearing had become more formal. “What is it that Emmalyn knows that I do not?”

      Restell placed the drawings on a walnut end table. “You recall, do you not, that Miss Hathaway explained that she and I are previously acquainted?”

      “Yes, yes, what about it?”

      Sir Arthur’s query was made almost inaudible by Marisol’s exclamatory response. “Oh, there is to be a proposal! That is it, isn’t it? There has been an affair conducted entirely in secret, and now there must be a proposal. Emmalyn, you are a sly boots.”

      “Marisol!” It was Sir Arthur, not Emmalyn, who intoned her name as a chastisement. After a moment, in more agreeable tones, he said, “Will you not ring for refreshment? Unless I have misjudged the situation even more than you, I suspect it would be welcome.”

      Behind her father’s back, Marisol pressed her lips together. The thin white line spoke eloquently of her annoyance, but she honored his request.

      Sir Arthur indicated the sofa opposite his chair. “Please, Mr. Gardner. Emmalyn. Be seated. Marisol, you will bring a chair from the window and place it beside me.” His gaze moved between Emmalyn and Restell, his expression merely thoughtful, not judgmental. “What is there to tell me?” he asked before Marisol joined them. “I think I should like to hear from you first, Emmalyn.”

      Emma’s hands were folded neatly in her lap, and they remained there while she spoke. It was only Restell who could observe that beneath the cup of her hands, her thumbs wrestled nervously. “I fear you do not recall, Uncle, that Mr. Gardner’s name was brought to your attention after I returned to town from Walthamstow.”

      Just as if she had been visiting friends in the country, Restell thought. After I returned to town from Walthamstow. She might have been speaking of a journey she made regularly, so lightly did she offer this explanation. It did not entirely surprise him that she presented it in this fashion, but it put a rather pretty bow on an ugly package. Even so, he saw Sir Arthur shift uncomfortably in his chair, while Marisol finished giving the butler her instructions about tea and hurried to take her seat beside her father.

      “Did you mention his name to me, Emmalyn?” Sir Arthur asked. “If you did, then you are correct, I have no memory of it.”

      “It was Dr. Bettany. He was speaking to you outside my room. I was not eavesdropping, Uncle. I could not help but hear.”

      Sir Arthur’s brow furrowed. He had a thick head of dark hair, and now he plowed it back with his fingertips as though he might be able to turn over the memory. “Can it be so important? You will have to speak plainly about the conversation because I cannot bring it to mind.”

      “Yes,” Marisol said. “There is too much roundaboutation for my liking.”

      Emmalyn ignored her. “Mr. Gardner is the gentleman that Dr. Bettany recommended you seek out to assist in the apprehension of—”

      “I’ve got it,” Sir Arthur announced, his expression clearing. “The doctor suggested that we might wish to investigate. Discreetly, of course. If you overheard, then you know I thanked Bettany for his concern, but told him I would not be acting on his information. What he proposed was certain to be fraught with difficulties, not the least of which was assuring that strict confidences were kept. Discretion is much to be desired, often promised, and rarely realized.”

      “Emmalyn understands, Father,” Marisol said. “She knows you were thinking of her reputation.”

      Out of the corner of his eye, Restell saw Emma’s head droop slightly, as if it were suddenly too heavy for the slim stem of her neck. He knew, as she did, that Sir Arthur’s refusal to act had been largely to protect himself from any hint of scandal. That Marisol should not be touched by it was also a consideration.

      Sir Arthur shifted his attention to Restell. “Bettany is responsible for you being here? I hope that is not the case.”

      Emma did not allow Restell to answer. “I am responsible for Mr. Gardner’s visit, Uncle. I have retained his services. It has been ten”—she glanced sideways at Restell and managed a small smile—“actually eleven days since he and I arrived at our agreement. During that time he has been engaged in acts of discovery and protection. At my insistence, he is attempting to learn the details of what happened in the mews behind Madame Chabrier’s and whether I was mistaken for Marisol. As it will take some time before he can satisfactorily discharge this responsibility, he also has been acting as our protector.”

      For several long moments there was complete silence, then Marisol and her father began speaking at once.

      “You cannot mean that you—”

      “It is beyond everything sensible that—”

      “That you should defy my express wishes, it is not to be—”

      “You have ruined all. It is a complete betrayal, Emmalyn.”

      Restell decided it hardly mattered who said what. It was not as if either expected Emma to defend herself. Their objective was to make it clear that they now viewed themselves as the ones having been injured.

      It was the outside of enough.

      Restell stood. Although he made no threatening gesture, nor took a single step forward, the action of standing was sufficient to encourage silence. “That is quite all that should be said, I think.” There was rather more charity in his tone than he was feeling. “I intend to speak forthrightly and not spare your sensibilities as Miss Hathaway is wont to do. Moreover, I will not seek your permission to do so, nor will I beg your pardon later. Miss Vega, if you believe you will be offended by such things as I mean to say, then you should excuse yourself.”

      Marisol СКАЧАТЬ