Ruined by a Lady (Spirited Storms #3) (The Spirited Storms), Page 3

  As soon as the pair disappeared inside, Samuel lit the cheroot and blew a ring of smoke in the air as the other gentleman stepped out of the shadows and held out his hand.

  “Benedick Valentine.”

  Samuel shook his hand and nodded to the area in which Lady Jillian had been sitting with her brother.

  “Yes, one of them.”

  “Samuel Storm.”

  The man grinned. “Well, the best of luck to you because her father is a royal bastard.”

  Sam chuckled. “Why does Lady Jillian need your forgiveness?”

  Mr. Valentine shook his head and smiled sadly. “It’s not for me to say, and truthfully, only my sister, Lady Felding, knows the full extent of what happened.”

  “Is there hope that she’ll gain it?”

  He chuckled. “As for me and my brothers, we’ve moved past the incident, even though we don’t know the depths. My sisters, I’m not sure, but I’ve seen little animosity expressed toward Lady Jillian other than a lack of trust.”

  Sam wanted to ask if Valentine knew about the painting but held his tongue. He assumed Lady Jillian’s most protected secret was the portrait, but what if it was something else entirely? “I would appreciate your discretion in this matter and that you not mention to anyone what you overheard.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Valentine dropped his cheroot and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “I wish no ill will toward Lady Jillian, and after overhearing her conversation with Broadridge, I rather feel sorry for her.”

  “As do I,” Samuel admitted before Valentine walked away. Her relationship with the Valentines, whatever it was, really shouldn’t be a concern of his. However, it did speak to her character, as did the wish for forgiveness and friendship. Anyone who can look at past mistakes and admit they were wrong and wish to rectify the matter was to be respected, not shunned.

  A s much as she tried to enjoy the rest of the ball, it was nearly impossible. First, Mr. Storm might have one of her portraits, which she prayed was just a likeness of her and some other model, but she feared the truth. Then her father glowered at her all evening, and she was certain it had been because she waltzed with Mr. Storm. He’d railed against her all the way home and told her that she must never speak with Mr. Storm again.

  Jillian had nodded and promised and went straight to her chamber so she could think. Thinking turned into worry and then panic, and even though she tried to sleep, she constantly woke.

  What if Felding’s sister had sold the painting? Phillipa had promised never to do so, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t suffered a change of heart. Until Jillian knew for certain, she couldn’t relax, and by the following afternoon, with her nerves on edge, she made the decision to call on the marquess under the guise of calling on his wife. She offered her maid five pounds above her earnings to never breathe a word of this visit to her father.

  Trusting a servant did not come easy to Jillian, but she had no other choice. She must speak with Felding today.

  Instead of being led to the sitting room or parlor as expected, the footman had shown her to the library where she found Felding leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. It’s as if he’d been expecting her, which further convinced her they’d done the one thing they promised they’d never do.

  At that moment, all panic bubbled to the surface and she stormed into the room. “You promised. Your sister promised to never sell that painting, and if she decided to do so, it would be to me.” Tears welled but she blinked them back. “Does your family hate me so much?”

  He straightened and came forward. “We do not hate you, Lady Jillian.” His words were kind, but they’d still sold the painting.

  “But why?”

  “We didn’t sell it. It’s still in Philippa’s collection.”

  “There is another?” She grasped the back of the chair for support when her knees nearly gave way.

  “Apparently, I happen to own it.”

  She whipped around to find Mr. Samuel Storm standing by the settee. She hadn’t even seen him when she came in the room.

  Humiliation engulfed her. He now knew that it was her. Not only was she embarrassed that he owned one of those horrid paintings, but he now knew that she’d lied to him last night.

  Why couldn’t the world just open up and swallow her whole?

  “Mr. Storm was just explaining to me that he purchased that painting nearly three years ago,” Felding said.

  Her stomach churned and Jillian prayed she didn’t toss up her accounts in the middle of Felding’s library. “Three years?” They were all supposed to be gone, with the exception of the one Felding’s sister owned. Would they continue to surface for the rest of her life? How many had Nico painted?

  She couldn’t contemplate that now but had to manage the current situation. She lifted her chin and would face this head on as she had in the past, or at least as her father had. Jillian looked into Mr. Storm’s green eyes with cold determination, ready to negotiate. “What do you want?”

  Mr. Storm’s brow furrowed. “Want?”

  “Name your price to keep this quiet.”

  He drew back and anger spiked in his eyes. “I want nothing.”

  How was that even possible? Everyone wanted something and used whatever means to get it. Her father had taught her that well enough.

  “I simply wish to continue enjoying the painting.”

  “I wish for it to be destroyed.”

  Humor lit in his eyes, and the side of his mouth tipped up. “I can assure you, Lady Jillian that is never going to happen.”

  Maybe it was one of the earlier ones. When her clothing remained modest. She could only pray that it was.

  “Where is it?” she demanded.

  “At my home.”

  “In Barbados?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has anyone else seen it?” Maybe it was a private collection, and her humiliation was limited only to him.

  “A few, close friends.”

  He grinned as if he found humor in this situation, and she wanted to box his ears. Didn’t Mr. Storm know how serious this was?

  She studied him and despite his smile, there was a serious edge in his eyes. He knew. Of course he knew, yet he didn’t care.

  It was bad enough that he had seen the painting, but she needed to know who else. What if it was someone in society and they mentioned it? “Anyone I would know?”

  “Roxburg.”

  Her world just grew darker. His Grace would return to Barbados with his new bride, who happened to be a Valentine, the family who hated her for good reason. Once Bianca saw it, nothing would keep her from writing home and telling everyone. If Lady Felding hadn’t already told her siblings about the portrait’s existence, then Bianca certainly would.

  Jillian moved around to the front of the chair and sank down, her knees unable to hold her up any longer. “As you will not give up the painting, I beg one favor of you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Please, never show it to Roxburg’s wife.”

  “Bianca would never say anything,” Felding assured her, not that it did any good.

  “You don’t know that,” she snapped. “They hate me. All of the Valentines do, and for good reason.”

  Felding shook his head. “I can assure you that they don’t. You are making far more out of the circumstances than they ever would.” He came forward. “And, I can assure you, if they hated anyone, which they do not, it would be your father. He is responsible for most of the grief they suffered.”

  “Yes, but I was not much better than him not so long ago,” she said quietly.

  “Water under the bridge, Lady Jillian.”

  Tears stung her eyes and she wished it were true, but she had learned long ago never to trust anyone.

  “I can understand why you don’t wish for anyone to view the painting,” Mr. Storm began. “I can assure you that it will never be shown to anyone ever again.”

  She breathed out a sigh of relief, though she’d never
know if he showed it to anyone or not.

  “However, it will remain in my collection because I enjoy gazing upon it.”

  Jillian lowered her face into her hands and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, panic, and humiliation. Short of sailing to Barbados, there was nothing she could do.

  She lifted her chin and let her cool mask fall back into place. She’d shown him too much already and given him the power to hurt her, and she needed to take all of it back now. “Thank you.” She stood. “I will take my leave.” With that, she sailed out of the room without a backward glance. Forcing one foot in front of the other, despite how much her legs trembled and her heart beat. If it became any stronger, it would push right through her chest. She needed to get home and into the privacy of her chambers before that happened or she’d collapsed into a puddle of tears.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sam had just arrived at Felding’s townhouse and taken a seat when Lady Jillian was announced. He and Fielding had barely discussed the painting, only when he had purchased it, before she burst into the room. He’d never seen anyone run the gauntlet of emotions in such a short frame of time. From anger, betrayal, cold calculation, pain, embarrassment, to cool resignation, before she marched out of the room, wearing pride as if it was a cloak to be donned when necessary.

  “There is more than one painting?” he asked Felding after she was gone.

  “My sister has one in her collection.”

  “How many are there?” He thought he was lucky to have one, but after seeing how distressed Lady Jillian was, he wished to purchase them all so she’d know they were gone.

  Felding shrugged. “I’ve no idea. We thought that was the last.”

  “You thought?” Had they been discovered by others? Was that why nobody had married her? If they were out in Society, unless the ton had changed in the past five years, Lady Jillian wouldn’t be welcomed in homes. Then again, her father was a duke and maybe that made all the difference. “Who else has one?” Also, for some reason, he did not like the idea of any other gentlemen looking upon a portrait similar to his. From the moment he saw it, he’d thought of the painting and the lady as his, and his alone.

  “Nobody that we are aware of. That was why Lady Jillian was so shocked when you mentioned it.” Felding strode to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to Samuel.

  “Maybe you should explain why there are so many portraits of Lady Jillian, and if they are similar to the one I own, what possessed her to do such a thing?”

  Felding stared at him and then he frowned as he settled into the seat across from Sam. “It’s not for me to tell.”

  “Clearly, this has been an issue before,” Samuel countered and then remembered something else she’d said. “Why would the Valentines, or you, hate Lady Jillian?”

  This time Felding frowned deeper. “If you wish for those answers, you should discuss them with Lady Jillian.”

  Samuel wasn’t so certain she’d speak to him again, not that he wasn’t going to pursue her.

  “Lady Jillian is a complicated woman.” Felding sighed and took a drink. “At one time I believed her to be kind and sweet, but after a time I saw her as manipulative and cold.”

  Samuel had picked up on none of that. Yes, she had shown cool disdain toward him, but it was no more than a shield a knight wore going into battle. If she really were so cold, there would not be so much vulnerability in the depths of her blue eyes. Felding had it wrong.

  “I now believe she is more afraid and shielded than anything else, and that’s why she responds the way she does.”

  That Samuel did believe. Especially after what he overheard the evening before. “She’s not happy,” Sam finally said.

  “I doubt she ever will be.”

  Thank goodness her brother arrived as requested. Jillian tried to ask little of Henry, but when she needed to escape, he was the only one she could call upon. At the moment, she desperately needed an escape.

  After leaving Felding’s yesterday, she’d returned home, sequestered herself in her chambers, then begged off attending any functions last evening, claiming a headache. In truth, she was terrified of seeing Mr. Storm. With everyone else, she was cool and calm as she should be, but he flustered her, and knowing he had one of the paintings, made her all the more wary. If she didn’t tread lightly, he might very well change his mind and announce her scandalous error to the world.

  Oh, she wanted to trust him, but how could she? She didn’t even know him. She’d trusted the kind eyes of a man before and that had ended up in destruction.

  Tonight she’d remain at home again, not because she wished it, but because her father would be meeting with his cronies. However, tomorrow night the Earl of Bentley and his wife were holding a ball, and her father had ordered that she would attend unless she was at death’s door. As that was nearly impossible to fake, Jillian resigned herself to attending another function as her father pestered her with orders about decorum and listing those she was allowed to dance with.

  As the day wore on, a very real headache developed and Jillian knew if she did not escape the mansion, her head might very well explode.

  “What are you doing here?” Father barked when Henry walked into the room.

  “Good day to you too, Father.” He turned to Jillian. “I thought you might wish to walk in the park.”

  She stood. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”

  “Watch that she doesn’t embarrass me again,” Father ordered. “Her judgment is not to be trusted, nor am I confident yours can be either.”

  His words cut her, but Jillian was used to hearing them. One mistake when she was sixteen had relegated her to a simpleton who could no longer make decisions for herself, and for each year that passed that she didn’t marry, Father became more difficult to live with and his words crueler to hear.

  Every muscle in Jillian’s body relaxed once she was free from her father and his mansion.

  Henry chuckled. “Is he still angry over your waltzing with Storm the other evening?”

  “If only it were that simple.” She sighed and allowed him to hand her up into his phaeton.

  Her brother jumped into the driver’s seat and took hold of the reins. “I’m sorry. I should not have answered for you the other evening.” He cast a look from the corner of his eye. “I plan on calling on Felding to learn if his sister sold the painting,” Henry announced. “And then call on Mr. Storm to learn what I can. I should have before now, but it is a delicate topic and I’ve been deciding how best to approach the matter, especially if it is one of those from your past.”

  “It is.” Tears welled, but she quickly blinked them away. “He purchased it three years ago in New Orleans.”

  Henry stiffened. “When did you learn this?”

  Jillian quickly explained that she couldn’t stand the wondering and worrying and went directly to Felding, only to encounter Mr. Storm.

  Her brother relaxed and nodded. “Then there is nothing to worry about, is there?”

  “How can you even say that?” she cried. “He owns one of them. Oh, I wish they could all be gathered up and burned.”

  “That I do not doubt,” he said dryly as they pulled into Hyde Park. “I know Storm. He’s not the type of person who would do something to intentionally embarrass another. And, as there is nothing that can be done, put them from your mind.”

  It was easy for him to say. Nobody had a portrait of him barely clad in clothing lounging about. What a fool she’d been.

  “Do you care to walk or do you prefer to ride?”

  If her father was here, he’d insist on riding, especially sitting up so high where he could look down on society. It was probably his favorite activity. “I’d like to walk.”

  After securing the reins to a post Henry assisted her to the ground and offered his arm. “Try to enjoy the day, Jillian. There is no point in worrying about something you have no control over.”

  “Father isn’t intent on running your life
and picking your bride while another gentleman holds a scandalous portrait of you. As well-meaning as your advice, it’s not easy to accept.” She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “Why hasn’t he demanded you marry? You are responsible for the next heir.”

  He grinned. “Oh, he has, but I still have not found a woman that I could love who is also so unsuitable that Father would have an apoplexy.”

  At least he had some control in thwarting Father, whereas she had none.

  “If only I had the same options as you.” She sighed.

  “Perhaps you do.” Henry nodded, and she glanced over to find Mr. Samuel Storm approaching with two young ladies on his arms and another following in their wake.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Thank you for bringing us to the park,” his sister Hannah said for the fifth time since they left the townhouse.

  “Being with Mother was simply unbearable,” added Tabitha.

  “If she had it her way, we’d not leave the house at all for fear of running into Danby,” added Deborah.

  “Don’t worry about mother or our great uncle. Neither Ben, Nate, nor I will allow either of them to manipulate you into a marriage you don’t want.”

  “That’s fine and good for now,” complained Hannah. “You’ll be off to Barbados at the end of the Season, and Nate will probably leave for shores unknown, leaving only Ben to interfere.”

  “He’s only one gentleman against mother,” insisted Deborah. “We can’t count on Peter to ever be of assistance.” Peter was their twenty-four year old brother who remained scarce. Sam had barely seen him since he’d arrived in London. Not that he blamed the chap. All three of the bachelor sons avoided the household unless necessary.

  “The odds are stacked against Ben,” sighed Tabitha.

  Though Sam would like to remain and watch out for his sisters, he could not be away from his plantation for months on end. He’d already been gone four months. His estate manager could run things in his absence, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be gone for the potential years it could take to marry off his sisters, even if they should have married by now.