Page 22

It is far better to be often deceived than never to trust; to be disappointed in love, than never to love.

—Mary Wollstonecraft

The art show was a smashing success, and by the end of the evening and in the days following, Rafi had earned a dozen new commissions, including a royal one. Viscount Hollis had been effectively silenced by all the praise his nephew received. I had laughed quietly with Ela—who had learned in a very circuitous way that joy and success would always make for the best revenge.

Rafi wasn’t the only one making important life changes. In addition to composing my music, I hadn’t had a full sleep in nearly a week, considering how hard I’d been working to buy all of Welton before the official auction. My mother had assured me that the purchase was going through despite how long it was taking even with Mr. Kaneko’s excellent skills.

I was impatient. I wanted Miss Perkins to be back where she belonged, enriching young, hungry minds. I consoled myself with the fact that she would now be the headmistress of a brand-new school—the Osborn School—where anyone was welcome, even those in need of funding. The curriculum would still include the fundamentals of propriety and politesse, but girls would also have access to other subjects like mathematics, philosophy, science, and astronomy to name a few. The languages would expand from French and Italian to several others including Latin, Japanese, Hindi, and even some Creole options. There would also be musical instruction with a variety of instruments and styles, both classical and modern, to choose from. And students were welcome to read whatever they pleased, with the approval of their parents, of course.

Humming under my breath, I performed my morning ablutions and wondered whether today was the day Mama would tell me Miss Perkins could finally return. I was also curious as to what, if anything, had happened with Rafi’s uncle and my father’s very diligent barrister. I’d learned via very careful eavesdropping that Mr. Kaneko had filed on behalf of Sister Mary a bill of complaint with the Court of Chancery, which was an equity court led by the lord chancellor. It wouldn’t stop the auction, but a suit would delay it.

I gritted my teeth. No doubt Viscount Hollis would be able to weasel his way out of it somehow. The man was like a roach. As if my thoughts had summoned the cad, when I heard the butler announcing the arrival of Viscount Hollis as well as Mr. Kaneko, every sense in my body perked up. What was the viscount doing here?

With a glance at a narrow-eyed Gemma, I tiptoed down the stairs to the landing and peered over the railing to the foyer. Sure enough, the slimy, smug-faced rotter was being shown to Papa’s study while Nori’s father followed, his face unusually grim. My heart sank. Had their efforts failed?

I had to get closer.

“Lady Zia, no,” Gemma hissed, but I ignored her. This was much too important. I made my way down to the foyer, my lungs constricting with unnecessary panic. As I approached the open door, the footmen in the hallway frowned, but I placed a finger to my lips and scowled. I wasn’t above pulling rank to get what I wanted.

Viscount Hollis’s smarmy voice filtered through. “You think you can stop me with this puny suit?”

“No,” I heard my father say. “But Mr. Kaneko here can bury you in paperwork if the title deeds and documents for the tenement aren’t up to scratch. The lord chancellor, Baron Eldon, is a personal friend of his.”

“You only delay the inevitable,” the viscount crowed, and my palms itched to punch something. He sounded much too confident. Would we lose Welton after all?

There was quiet before anyone spoke, and in the silence, my nerves spiked. “That may be so, Hollis,” my mother’s musical voice chimed in. “Which is why we have proof that you have been illegally draining the accounts of the inheritance left to your nephew by your brother, the terms of which are extremely specific.”

A gasp was followed by loud spluttering. “I beg your pardon! How dare you—”

“I don’t have to dare, sir. The evidence is right in front of you.”

The sound of a file hitting the top of a desk made me jump, and I could almost imagine the viscount’s expression at whatever he was facing. The proof would not be pretty, knowing my parents. They went for the jugular, especially when our family was threatened.

“Where did you get this?” Viscount Hollis demanded, though the smug bluster from earlier had drained out of his voice.

“We have friends in powerful places,” my father said calmly. “Now, let me be very clear to you, Hollis. If you attempt anything with your nephew, this file and all its contents will be delivered to the authorities. I’m sure they will be very interested to see how you have been misappropriating his inheritance for years.”

“How dare you…,” the viscount began again. “This is my father’s money. I have every right to spend it as I see fit.”

“No, this was your brother’s last will and testament.” My father tutted, his voice dangerously low. “Transportation will be the least of your worries, if you are convicted of larceny and embezzlement.”

For a moment, there was no sound, and then a chair slammed into a wall or the floor. I pressed into the wainscoting as a furious viscount came storming out of the study, his eyes wild. Clearly, I hadn’t flattened myself enough as his gaze found me. “You!” He advanced swiftly in my direction. “You and that good-for-nothing boy are the bane of my existence.”

I could smell his fetid, whisky-infused breath, and I braced for contact, even as I saw the footmen moving in slow motion out of the corner of my eye to stop him and my parents bursting into the foyer. An unexpected blast of cool morning wind from outside kissed my overheated skin as the front door blew open.

“Touch one hair on her head, Uncle, and it will be the last thing that you ever do.”

Rafi’s deadly voice made us both swing toward him, and I saw the moment the viscount realized that it was over…and what else he stood to lose in plain view of many witnesses.

My veins bubbled with excess energy as he whirled with a curse and left. I nearly collapsed into Rafi’s arms as he strode forward to catch me. “How did you know he was here?” I whispered.

He stroked my cheek. “He was fuming, muttering about your family. So, I followed him. Did he touch you? Hurt you?”

“No. You arrived just in time.”

A throat cleared, and my eyes met my father’s. His cold blue gaze slid to the boy who held me, warming slightly with relief. “Didn’t I warn you to stay away?”

Rafi’s shoulders firmed as he canted his head in a polite nod, as much deference as he could manage with a heap of boneless and completely besotted girl in his arms. “I believe I told you, Your Grace, I’m not going anywhere.”

Four days later, Gemma popped her head into my carriage house, where I was working on a new piece. Encouraged by the reaction to my own galvanizing performance at the Queen’s Rose, the muse had been overflowing of late, and I’d spent many days composing into the wee hours. I glanced over at the easel in the corner near the large window that got the best light. The nicest part was that since Rafi didn’t have a studio to paint in, with my mother’s permission, he’d brought an easel here. As long as Gemma was around, he could paint to his heart’s content.

And paint he did.

Though I had to admit that there might have been some frantic kissing in between painting sessions as well, whenever Gemma excused herself for a minute or two. I felt my cheeks heat at the memory of being pressed up against that very windowpane whereupon I’d been kissed within an inch of my life. It appeared that Rafi saving my neck in front of my parents had earned him their gratitude, if not their devotion. At least my mother’s. My father was still an ice block, and who knew if he’d ever thaw, but Rafi was more than determined to chip away at him.

“Thought you might want to know that your father has a visitor,” Gemma said, and winked. That was odd. I didn’t really care who called upon the duke—they were usually all old peers who wanted something.

“And?” I asked glancing up.

“He’s quite a brilliant young painter who is in every newssheet and gossip rag today with more glowing accolades from the prince regent,” she said, hand fluttering to her heart, her face bright with mischief. “He’s here about a certain young lady, I suspect.”

I blinked, wrinkling my nose as her words sank in.

Oh. Oh.

Standing so quickly I nearly knocked over my piano stool, I gathered my skirts and ran past her before halting and racing back into the cottage to check my face in the small looking glass. My hair was all over the place in a riot of curls, and there was an ink splotch on my cheek. Damn and blast! I licked my finger and scrubbed at the spot, but it was stubborn. At least my hair cooperated when I put two jeweled combs in on each side.

I was certainly not the epitome of a well-bred young lady, galloping like a runaway foal across the back courtyard to the kitchens. How long had he been here? Was he still in with my father? What were they discussing? Was it…? My entire body shuddered at the thought of an official proposal. Would my father toss him out on his ear…or worse? He was certainly capable of that, and God knew he was taking an age to warm up to Rafi.

I nearly crashed into poor Forsythe as I barreled around the corner. I composed myself, though I could barely breathe. “Is Mr. Nasser here?”

“I was just coming to fetch you, my lady,” Forsythe said, his dark eyes twinkling. “He’s in the front parlor.”

“Oh, he’s not in with the duke?” I asked as my breathing slowed.

Forsythe shook his head. “Not yet, my lady. He asked to call upon you first, and depending on how that conversation went, he hoped to speak with the duke.”

Goodness, if this breathlessness persisted, I was absolutely going to faint.

Taking measured inhales, I smoothed my trembling hands over my skirts and entered the room. I left the door open, though just a tad. Not that Rafi and I hadn’t thoroughly trampled on the boundaries of respectability.

The visitor in question stood before the hearth, dressed to the nines in a smart black coat; a silvery waistcoat that matched his eyes; a snowy, perfectly tied cravat; snug breeches that I tried hard not to notice; and polished Hessians. I could stare at him forever.

“Special romantic encounter this evening, Mr. Nasser?”

He turned, and the view was even more spectacular from the front. That sinful smirk that did untoward things to me formed, making my mouth dry. “As a matter of fact, I do, Lady Zenobia.”

“With whom, pray tell?” I asked, feeling rather frumpy in my nothing-special green-and-cream muslin dress.

“The most infuriating lady in London.”

I grinned despite myself as he prowled toward me. “Oh, you must be at the wrong house. I have it on excellent authority that she lives down the road.”

“The most marvelous lady in London, then.”

I fluttered my eyelashes up at him as I found myself caught in his arms. “Well, now I would say, sir, that you are in the right place. Keep on with the compliments, if you please.”

Brilliant, laughing gray eyes with gilded silver flecks peered down at me. “Smart, funny, feisty, incredibly talented. Shall I go on?”

“Please do, good sir.”

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” His eyes memorized every inch of my face. “Even with ink on your cheek and your collarbone, you are exquisite.”

Stupid splotches! I scrubbed at the spot on my cheek with my fingers and then ducked my chin to attempt to see the other offending spot. Alas, it was out of my range of vision.

“Allow me.” Rafi pulled his glove off and lifted the pad of his thumb to my lips. Then he drew my lower lip down, gathering the moisture there. He moved his thumb to the mark on my cheek, rubbing gently, before descending to my collarbone.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

His gossamer touch made shivers descend, knuckles moving back and forth upon my skin as though they were a brush and I was his canvas.

He shook his head as if to clear it and then, without ceremony, dropped to one knee. “You told me to ask you again when everything was settled. So, I am here.” Rafi grasped my suddenly numb fingers as I stared astonished down at him and he pulled out his ring— the ring—the one I’d once stolen from him and thrown into his lap in the carriage after our duel. “You make me feel like I can do anything, Firefly, like I can reach the summit of every mountain. Like I can be anything and anyone my heart desires, and you will never fault me for it. You make me want to be a better man. As I got to know your heart, I realized more and more that I was falling in love with you.”

“Rafi…”

“Marry me, Zia,” he said huskily. “Make me the happiest man alive. I don’t care that you don’t have a dowry. None of that matters to me. I will take you with nothing but this dress….” He grinned wickedly. “Or nothing at all if that is your wish. I only care about you.”

“I have a dowry,” I blurted. “Who told you that?”

“The girls.” Red smudged over his golden cheeks. “I wanted to make sure I had their approval first. It wouldn’t do if the people you love most in the world hated me. They said something about you buying Welton.”

“My mama bought the school. I still have a dowry.” I glanced down at his handsome face. “A sizable one.”

“Then your dowry is yours,” he declared. “Thanks to my late father and mother, I am not in a financially precarious position. You can use it however you see fit. Make your mark on the world however you wish, Zia. That money belongs to you.” He stood and reached up to place his hand over my heart. “All I want is this. Us.”

I smiled. “You have it.”

“Is that a yes?”

Through tears, I dragged him up, giggling as he pushed his ring that was much too big but still so very perfect onto my third finger. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you. Now kiss me before I get snot over both of us.”

“I forgot how obnoxiously charming you are,” Rafi said, gaze glinting with amusement and so much affection it made me dizzy.

Sniffing, I pulled a face. “You love me with all my many flaws, don’t deny it.”

Rafi’s hands wrapped around me. “You’re right, Firefly. I treasure you just as you are.”