it is. There’s something about her…something fresh and new. I wanted that. I needed that, in more ways than one.”
“For the painting,” Foster said, answering his own question, albeit skeptically.
Giles’s eyebrow lifted. “What else?”
“It isn’t up to me to say, sir. You must search yourself for the answer to that.”
“Hah! Nothing has ever stopped you before, old boy.”
“Suffice it to say…I wouldn’t want the lass to come to harm because of selfish motives, sir.”
Giles gave it thought. “I suppose it is selfish of me to some degree,” he admitted finally. “After the sordid business with Elena, I expect the company of a decent woman under this roof would not go amiss. I’ve had my fill of tragedy. If this nightmare turns out to be real, I will not become a slave to it. I will have a life—a decent life.”
“Which brings us back to exactly what you expect of me now, sir.”
Giles nodded. “I want you to keep an eye upon MasterMonty from a discreet distance until just before dusk tomorrow, when the moon rises. I mean to lock him in. Then, I shall give you my chatelaine, and I want you to lock me in the solarium, and no matter what occurs—no matter what you hear, or what I command or beg for, or what Master Monty demands—you mustn’t unlock either door. When dawn breaks, you will come for me first, and we will unlock Master Monty’s chamber together.”
“How will that prove anything?”
“I know the state I was in when I woke naked on that moor smeared with blood. Believe me, if either of us has changed, you will know.”
“And what will I do with the knowledge, sir, if it is as you fear? What will you do—kill the child, kill yourself? Do not expect it of me.”
“For now, let us just do this test,” Giles said. “We will deal with what’s to be done with what ever we’re facing after we learn what it is.”
“You’ve been going through a bad patch, sir,” Foster said. “It’s understandable that you would be a little…irrational.”
“A bad patch, Foster?” Giles blurted. “My pregnant sister, so full of hope for the future, dies, her death deemed a suicide, leaving me with a savage little ward to raise, who isn’t even blood kin. My wife and her lover are found ravaged with their throats torn out on the moor, and I am suspected. We are bloody near rolled up, dependent upon the patronage of the Prince Regent, until the on-dits that have driven all my local patrons away reach his ears in London, and I cannot find a model for the work that has captured his interest. Oh and, here is the best bit. Just when I think I have her, the perfect Bride of Time, she refuses and I am forced to try to do the work from memory. Irrational? Believeme, old friend, you have not begun to see ‘irrational,’ but unless I miss my guess, and I dearly hope I do, you will see it in full force tomorrow night. You can bet your blunt upon it!”
Chapter Five
Tessa didn’t see Giles Longworth again that day. She took her meals in the servants’ hall, while her charge ate alone in his rooms, which she thought rather odd, since most children Monty’s age in such a house were trained early in dining room etiquette as a matter of course. Nevertheless, she was relieved over it. The tension between the child and his surrogate uncle was palpable. Dorcas assured her that this was the normal protocol for meals at Longhollow Abbey, since the master rarely ate in the dining parlor. The house keeper complained that he rarely ate at all of late, and what food he did take was had in his solarium studio. It seemed an odd business, but then nothing seemed normal since she’d arrived, including how she’d arrived. She still hadn’t come to terms with that.
Preparing the boy for bed fell to the maid, Lottie. After Tessa finished her evening meal, she decided to look in on the child before she retired. She found him standing before the window in his nightshirt, gazing at the almost-full
“For the painting,” Foster said, answering his own question, albeit skeptically.
Giles’s eyebrow lifted. “What else?”
“It isn’t up to me to say, sir. You must search yourself for the answer to that.”
“Hah! Nothing has ever stopped you before, old boy.”
“Suffice it to say…I wouldn’t want the lass to come to harm because of selfish motives, sir.”
Giles gave it thought. “I suppose it is selfish of me to some degree,” he admitted finally. “After the sordid business with Elena, I expect the company of a decent woman under this roof would not go amiss. I’ve had my fill of tragedy. If this nightmare turns out to be real, I will not become a slave to it. I will have a life—a decent life.”
“Which brings us back to exactly what you expect of me now, sir.”
Giles nodded. “I want you to keep an eye upon MasterMonty from a discreet distance until just before dusk tomorrow, when the moon rises. I mean to lock him in. Then, I shall give you my chatelaine, and I want you to lock me in the solarium, and no matter what occurs—no matter what you hear, or what I command or beg for, or what Master Monty demands—you mustn’t unlock either door. When dawn breaks, you will come for me first, and we will unlock Master Monty’s chamber together.”
“How will that prove anything?”
“I know the state I was in when I woke naked on that moor smeared with blood. Believe me, if either of us has changed, you will know.”
“And what will I do with the knowledge, sir, if it is as you fear? What will you do—kill the child, kill yourself? Do not expect it of me.”
“For now, let us just do this test,” Giles said. “We will deal with what’s to be done with what ever we’re facing after we learn what it is.”
“You’ve been going through a bad patch, sir,” Foster said. “It’s understandable that you would be a little…irrational.”
“A bad patch, Foster?” Giles blurted. “My pregnant sister, so full of hope for the future, dies, her death deemed a suicide, leaving me with a savage little ward to raise, who isn’t even blood kin. My wife and her lover are found ravaged with their throats torn out on the moor, and I am suspected. We are bloody near rolled up, dependent upon the patronage of the Prince Regent, until the on-dits that have driven all my local patrons away reach his ears in London, and I cannot find a model for the work that has captured his interest. Oh and, here is the best bit. Just when I think I have her, the perfect Bride of Time, she refuses and I am forced to try to do the work from memory. Irrational? Believeme, old friend, you have not begun to see ‘irrational,’ but unless I miss my guess, and I dearly hope I do, you will see it in full force tomorrow night. You can bet your blunt upon it!”
Chapter Five
Tessa didn’t see Giles Longworth again that day. She took her meals in the servants’ hall, while her charge ate alone in his rooms, which she thought rather odd, since most children Monty’s age in such a house were trained early in dining room etiquette as a matter of course. Nevertheless, she was relieved over it. The tension between the child and his surrogate uncle was palpable. Dorcas assured her that this was the normal protocol for meals at Longhollow Abbey, since the master rarely ate in the dining parlor. The house keeper complained that he rarely ate at all of late, and what food he did take was had in his solarium studio. It seemed an odd business, but then nothing seemed normal since she’d arrived, including how she’d arrived. She still hadn’t come to terms with that.
Preparing the boy for bed fell to the maid, Lottie. After Tessa finished her evening meal, she decided to look in on the child before she retired. She found him standing before the window in his nightshirt, gazing at the almost-full
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