The Duke Trap, page 2
Leonora’s shoulders eased. No doubt it was quite a normal painting. The label must simply have fallen off. Perhaps it was not even a painting at all.
Eloisa grinned, marched to the present, undid the red ribbon, and removed the cheesecloth wrapping.
A gilt-framed painting sparkled under the sunlight that streamed into the room.
There was silence.
Eloisa blinked furiously, and her husband’s face was tight and withdrawn.
The painting was unmistakable.
Mama was splayed over the canvas. Her red hair, so like Leonora’s and her sisters’, cascaded down her shoulders. Heavens, that alone would be scandalous. Hair was supposed to be worn in chignons or tucked underneath bonnets or turbans. Hair was not supposed to cascade down shoulders.
But far worse than the hair, which seemed to serve as a beacon, was the rest of the painting.
Mama was nude.
Again.
Rounded breasts were fully visible, as were the hard rosy peaks. Mama’s similarly rounded hips were hardly less scandalous. Red pubic hair curled over the place where Mama’s legs joined, and Leonora looked away.
Timothy marched toward the painting. His footsteps clunked against the wooden floorboards.
No one spoke, even though a moment ago the whole room had been filled with celebratory noises.
Timothy turned the painting over, as if the dull brown back could possibly make anyone forget the scandalous, vibrant picture they’d just seen. He glared at Julius. “Is this your idea of a jest?”
Julius’s eyebrows leaped up with the speed of an athlete. “You needn’t be so horrified. Your sister has received great art.”
“This painting is indecent. Vile. Appalling. Despicable,” Timothy blustered, and his face turned an odd purple shade.
“No one insults my paintings!” Julius sprang from his seat and barreled toward Timothy. His tailcoats flapped behind him as he slid over the newly polished floor.
“Julius!” Mama called after him, but her voice was drowned by the flurry of sounds around her.
Timothy and Julius ran into the next room, trampling over the carpets with the vigor of vintners stomping over grapes.
Footmen pressed themselves against the wall, clutching the silver platters of breakfast food with two hands instead of their customary one.
Eloisa’s eyes took on a dewy quality, and the rapidity of her blinks soared.
Oh no.
Eloisa shouldn’t be upset. This was her wedding. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Leonora glanced around the room at the horrified expressions on the guests. Some dropped their mouths open, others raised their eyebrows, and still others paled and gripped hold of the arms of their chairs, as if to assure themselves that life had not utterly ended.
One guest, though, didn’t have a horrified expression on his face.
Sebastian.
His countenance was calm, and his emerald eyes danced. Though his lips weren’t precisely drawn into a smirk, they didn’t tremble and they weren’t withdrawn.
Steel entered Leonora’s spine. This was Sebastian’s doing.
Leonora was certain of it.
Even Julius would have known better than to try to gift a painting of Mama at Eloisa’s wedding, and he certainly wouldn’t have denied it.
Timothy continued to chase Julius about the house, but no one was paying attention to Sebastian. Leonora’s fists tightened. At one point, when she had still measured her age in single digits, she would have considered Sebastian her best friend. How things had changed.
“You did this,” she said to Sebastian. Her voice wobbled uncharacteristically, but the man only smiled.
Heavens. This brought him amusement?
Timothy’s eyebrows darted up. Constance’s mouth dropped, then she shook her head at Leonora. Even her sisters appeared baffled.
Leonora’s shoulders drooped. She’d just accused a duke of doing something terrible, and nobody believed her. Why should they? He was a duke, and she was the unmarried oldest daughter of a scandalous widow.
Now was not the time for accusations. Now was the time for rescuing her sister’s wedding.
Leonora rose and forced a bright smile onto her face. “Who would like to listen to some music?”
The guests eagerly expressed their interest.
Leonora moved to the drawing room, thankful when the guests followed her. She sat at the piano. The glossy black-and-white keys gleamed in their familiar manner, and her breath no longer surged unnaturally. She put her fingers on the keys and played the quickest, happiest song she could remember. Soon the guests were singing to the music.
Cornelius shot her a grateful smile, but Leonora’s mind remained on what had happened.
*
Sebastian marched from the wedding. All his senses were alight. Happiness drifted through him. The birds seemed to be chirping with extra enthusiasm. This was an excellent day. His plan had worked perfectly. It would have been even more improved if Leonora had not distracted everyone by playing the piano. Blast, she’d even played it very well. Sebastian had not waited to hear just how many pieces she could perform.
When Sebastian had been little, Timothy had hidden frogs in Sebastian’s lunch pail, even though Timothy had been certain Sebastian would scream and the others would laugh. Thankfully, Sebastian was now a duke, and people hardly ever laughed at him. Now they were frightened.
Even the sky had decided to turn a joyful shade of blue instead of its customary and dignified gray, as if it were pretending to be in one of those Italian Renaissance paintings filled with half-naked gods and goddesses prancing from cloud to cloud.
Sebastian turned toward Covent Garden, careful as always to make certain no one was following him. Life was very good indeed.
Chapter Three
That wretched man. That wretched, horrid man.
Leonora’s fingers shook as she entered the empty drawing room. She settled onto the piano bench. The teal armchairs and sofa were empty, their gilded legs sparkling, as if enjoying not being hidden by anyone’s afternoon dress or trousers. Leonora flung her fingers over the keys of the piano. Unfortunately, Mozart’s best efforts at composition could not distract her from that abominable man.
Heavens, Sebastian had seemed so pleasant when he was little. Leonora wouldn’t make the mistake of poor judgment anymore. Something had to be done. Eloisa’s wedding had almost been entirely ruined, and Sabrina was getting married next. Who knew how Sebastian might decide to embarrass the family?
No, he needed to be stopped.
He needed to be embarrassed.
The only problem was that there was not much about the duke that was embarrassment-worthy. Not his dark eyes, and not his exquisitely tousled hair. Each strand remained in a perfect place. The man’s clothes were always tailored, displaying his broad shoulders and long, ever so long, legs.
Despite herself, Leonora swallowed.
No, Sebastian wasn’t going to be an embarrassment on his own.
Perhaps, just perhaps, she could assist. After all, Sebastian was a man, and every woman knew men could be trapped.
Leonora halted her music playing suddenly and glanced at one of the large broadsheets piled on the mahogany-and-walnut inlaid table. Normally her brother read a broadsheet while Leonora, her sisters, and Constance sewed. Timothy would comment about the various happenings in London and the wider world, no doubt only sharing the news he deemed appropriate for their ears.
He never spoke about the theater, but this was London, the largest city in the world. Surely a broadsheet would mention plays. And if there were plays, there were actresses. And if there were actresses… Leonora grinned. Well, then she could trap Sebastian.
Leonora rose from the piano bench. She softened her steps, lest Timothy wonder why she suddenly desired to read the broadsheet herself, then reached for it.
The paper was rough against her fingers, and it was still warm from the butler’s ironing. Timothy wasn’t a proponent of having inky fingers. He also wasn’t a proponent of reading a creased broadsheet, and Leonora opened the pages carefully, jumping at the rustling sound that the thin pages produced. She moved quickly through the paper, noting various headlines about murders in the London docks and battles on the continent.
Finally, she came to the theater section. Wonderful.
Leonora removed the theater page carefully from the broadsheet, folded the paper, then tiptoed toward her room. Her heart raced.
“Leonora,” Timothy boomed, and Leonora jumped up.
Heavens, her brother had caught her removing a section of the broadsheet.
She turned her head toward Timothy’s surprised face. His pale-blue eyes seemed even larger than normal, and his equally pale, red brows had evidently decided that now was a good time to explore venturing up his vast forehead.
“I’m sorry.” Leonora stood awkwardly in the living room. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, as if somehow that could lessen the mortification surging through her. The whole point of this was not that she would be mortified; it was so Sebastian would be mortified. So far, the plan was not proceeding well. She forced a smile upon her face. “I would like to see a play,” Leonora said.
“A play?”
“Indeed.”
“Oh.” Timothy frowned slightly, though his eyebrows were no longer at their former lofty position.
“Or an opera,” Leonora stated.
“I’m not certain either is a respectable place for a young woman.”
“But surely if our whole family goes…”
Timothy sighed. “Very well. I suppose we could do that.” He tilted his head. “Is there anything in particular you want to see?”
Leonora smiled and pointed to an opera on the broadsheet. “This would do quite well.”
“All right. As you desire.”
She finally closed the door and went to her desk, where she removed some paper and a quill.
“You’re smiling.”
Leonora stiffened immediately and jerked her head toward her sister’s voice.
Sabrina’s eyes rounded. “Did I startle you? I’m sorry, I—”
“No,” Leonora squeaked. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
She smiled.
For the first time since they’d arrived in London, Leonora knew this was true. She was going to ruin the duke’s reputation. The whole town would know what kind of an awful, terrible man he truly was. Leonora had some pin money, and she was going to use all of it to pay for an actress.
Of course, it wasn’t the sort of thing she could just about go around telling Sabrina. She was so happy and might try to dissuade Leonora from her plan. Instead, Leonora pasted a smile upon her face. “I simply didn’t hear you.”
“Oh.” Sabrina nodded. She glanced around. “It is strange not having Eloisa here, isn’t it?”
Normally Leonora would always hear chatter around her, but now things were different. Soon things would be even more different.
“You’re getting married as well,” Leonora reminded her.
“Yes,” Sabrina said, and her cheeks pinkened so prettily that Leonora’s heart ached.
Leonora wanted Sabrina to have the very best wedding. Once she found someone to help her lay a duke trap, everything would be perfect. Leonora knew just whom she would ask.
*
A thrill of pleasure moved through Leonora as she entered Covent Garden. She was accustomed to playing the piano for her friends and family, but as much as she adored music, she’d never attended an opera before. Excitement thrummed through her, even though she was here not entirely for pleasure and even though the opera was famous and she already knew the plot.
The female lead’s character was suffering from a terrible illness and would not reappear until the next act. This was the time to attempt to speak with the opera’s star. She eyed the red velvet curtains that led from her family’s box, then glanced back at Timothy and Constance. Fortunately, their attention remained fixed on the stage.
Leonora disappeared through the curtain and entered the now empty corridor. She moved in the direction of the stage.
Everything was swathed in brilliant burgundies. Candles flickered from gold sconces, from which crystals dangled. It was the music, that lovely piano music, that most made Leonora’s heart thrum. She’d insisted on attending for practical purposes. She’d never expected to find it so appealing. Timothy and Constance normally spoke about the opera in derogatory tones, declaring it melodrama for continentals.
The corridors were almost empty, a stark contrast to the bustle that had been present when they’d entered. This was the sort of conversation that was best not put on paper. Her coins jangled in her reticule, and she hurried backstage. Though some people gave her odd looks, none of them questioned her. Perhaps they assumed that a woman dressed as nicely as she was must be present for a reason.
Finally, Leonora found Mimi’s dressing room and entered.
A beautiful woman sitting on a jonquil velvet chaise longue widened her large blue eyes. Her blonde hair was artfully arranged into ringlets, and her cheeks were such a vibrant pink Leonora wondered whether she was wearing French powder. The woman raised an elegant gloved hand toward her neck. “You’re in my dressing room.”
“I would like to hire you,” Leonora blurted.
Mimi’s immaculately formed eyebrows rose, then she smiled. “For a house party play. I understand.” She leaned toward Leonora conspiratorially. “All your friends will be most envious of your production.”
Leonora gave a weak smile. “Actually, I prefer discretion. I hope your services can be used for more private matters.”
“Oh.” Mimi’s face whitened. “You better sit.”
Leonora glanced about the crowded room. Fur shrugs were draped over jewel-tufted armchairs, and golden silver-framed mirrors adorned each wall, as if Mimi thought it a travesty were she to have to bother to crane her neck to catch a glimpse of her perfect visage. Finally, Leonora settled rigidly into a lacquered black chair decorated with gold finishes.
“You saw the ad for an actress in the paper,” Mimi said softly once the door was shut.
Leonora nodded.
“I shouldn’t have placed it. I was irritated. I had been promised some work, then the client had the audacity to use someone else.” Mimi’s eyes flashed, and Leonora understood why she’d captivated London audiences.
No wonder she’d been hired to perform here. She would captivate anyone. She would certainly captivate Sebastian.
Leonora waited for a sense of pride to surge through her, but only a flicker of distaste came. No doubt that was out of some misguided sense of loyalty to the solemn-eyed boy with whom she’d used to play. That had been when Papa was still alive, before she knew of the vast, irrational hatred the people in the neighboring estate held for her family.
Leonora never would have considered her once dear friend would so throw himself into the task of being a duke that he would adopt every prejudicial opinion formed when witches were still being burned.
Certainly, Leonora was absolutely not feeling jealousy. That would be absurd. Even if she wished Mimi were not quite so enticing. The actress’s flaxen hair was the sort men went mad for, as if they thought they were securing an actual angel.
“What is the assignment?” Mimi asked.
“I want to destroy a man.” The words galloped from Leonora’s throat.
“I don’t murder,” Mimi said. “I seduce.”
“I know,” she whispered, and her skin warmed.
“I wouldn’t have thought a woman like you knew much about seduction,” Mimi said dryly, and Leonora flushed.
She ran a hand against her hair, conscious the curls did not appear as soft and glossy as Mimi’s. Her hair was too thick for such things. It was a wonder they’d been tamed into an updo at all. Her lady’s maid constantly gritted her teeth when preparing Leonora’s unstylishly red hair for balls and other events. No, she wasn’t the sort that men adored.
“My friend is holding a ball. I’m going to secure you an invitation posing as a Lady Seneca Footwall. There’s a man I want you to get in to an improper position.”
Mimi raised her eyebrows. “Indeed?”
Leonora nodded solemnly. “Yes, but preferably publicly. And then I want you to be upset about it.”
“I see,” the actress said, her voice grave.
“I’ll pay you handsomely.”
“Are you certain you want to destroy a man’s reputation like that?”
“He’s a terrible man.” Leonora ignored sudden twinges of something that seemed too similar to self-reproach. “People need to know. It’s the only thing.”
Chapter Four
Even though it was already evening, the sun was still at almost its normal force. Leonora clutched her reticule. She pushed away the slight guilt that she was here on her own. Mimi didn’t live far from Hyde Park, and she’d been able to slip away from the others.
Sabrina and Percival were so busy looking into each other’s eyes that when she’d murmured she noticed a friend in the park, they hadn’t even turned to look.
What might it be like to be so in love?
Leonora checked her address for a third time, then gazed at the narrow dark brick town house. She shuddered, even though it was hardly very cold. This must be Mimi’s residence.
Somehow, Leonora had imagined the town house would be more elegant. After all, in Covent Garden, Mimi had played a wealthy courtesan and had been swathed in fur and silk.
There was still time to change her mind and disappear. It wouldn’t be the most honorable thing, but she had paid the opera singer already. Did she want to risk having her be at the ball?
Leonora hesitated, but of course, there was only one answer. She strode forward, grabbed hold of the door knocker, and rapped on the door. The door was rather less glossy than that of Timothy’s town house. No fluffy-maned lion adorned it.
The door swung open, and Mimi peeked her face out.
“It’s you?” she breathed.
