Page 45 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

“He isn’t in love with me, you goose,” Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“And here comes the gentleman himself,” Edith said as the footman announced Jemie and his mother.

Edith caught Frances’ eye and winked. “And I have a rather marvellous idea…” Frances wasn’t sure she could deal with any more revelations.

She rubbed at her forehead with two fingers and waited for what would come next.

***

Lizzie thought the whole thing was an absolutely capital idea. But then Lizzie would.

“Are you sure we should do this?” Frances said to Jemie as she sat for him later in the day.

He frowned at the painting and dabbed, then wiped at something with a paint covered finger before returning his attention to her.

“I do. I want no shadow cast over you. None. If my attendance on you and Lizzie is occasioning comment, then this will put paid to all that and all will be well.”

“But there is nothing between us,” Frances protested but she knew it was a lie.

Jemie glanced up at that. “If you believe that, you’ve bats in your attic, as my dear mother would say.”

She sighed.

“If Lizzie and I become betrothed, it will silence the gossips, delight your husband, and we can carry on being…” he pondered for a moment, then gave her a wry grin, “slightly more than good friends.”

Frances groaned. “And how long do you propose continuing with this charade? How long can you be betrothed without actually getting married?”

He shrugged and dabbed at the painting again. “As long as we like. It suits Lizzie too; in case you were wondering.” He beamed. “We intend to have a very long engagement.”

Frances pinched the bridge of her nose. “And when it’s over?”

“She can jilt me with as much drama as she might wish for. Can you stop doing that with your fingers?” He waved a brush at her.

Frances let go of her nose, fidgeted, and twitched at the dress, before sitting silently as Jemie continued painting.

“Are you tired?” Jemie asked when she fidgeted for the third time.

“I… I need to talk to you about Frederick,” she told him.

Jemie paused, paintbrush in the air. “What has he done now?”

She drew in a bated breath. “I hardly know where to start.”

Jemie put down his brush, wiped his hands free of paint, and came over to her. He moved them to the sofa by the fireplace and sat down, intertwining her fingers with his.

“Tell me.”

She ached to lean into him, but she sat up straight. “Frederick was with Rosa the night we sent for him when Elinor was ill.”

She watched as muscles twitched in his cheek. “Miserable swine,” he muttered.

“And now Rosa is having his baby. She can’t pass it as her husband’s because they have not had relations in the past six months.”

Jemie’s eyes closed. “Dear God.”

“I know. I have a headache with it all.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised. What will you do?”

“What can I do?”

“Will you tell Leyland you know?”

She massaged her temples. “I don’t know.” It was true. She had absolutely no idea what to do.

***

Jemie found it even harder to be civil with Leyland after Frances’ revelations.

On top of that, the faux betrothal to Lizzie, the one that was supposed to be a quiet, low-key affair to divert attention and nothing more, had grown and was frankly, out of control.

And what none of them had considered in the initial planning, too delighted at their cleverness, was the effect on the rest of the family.

The children were beside themselves with excitement. It hurt him to see how much they wanted him to be part of their little world. So much so, he almost abandoned the pretence on the spot, not ever wanting to deceive them.

And his mother… God, she could spot a lie at a hundred paces.

She made him feel ten years old again. She didn’t believe for a moment he’d fallen violently in love with Lizzie Dawson.

She’d not gone so far as to say it was a sham so he could spend time with Frances, but he sensed it was a close-run thing.

He dealt with it all by shutting his ears and throwing himself into working on the dining room at Prince’s Gate.

It was coming together well, and he felt increasingly excited by his latest venture as the days wore on.

The verdigris on the walls was stunning against the cabinetry, complimented brilliantly by the gold he’d applied, but as the project grew, so did his ideas and enthusiasm.

Had he paused, he might have noted that the energy he felt was partly — more than partly—anger at his patron and his treatment of his wife, but he pushed this aside, embraced the energy he felt coursing through him and decorated with flair.

Rather more flair than he’d normally expend and burning…

anger disguised as excitement. It made for an interesting piece of work with scant acknowledgement that he was beset by a festering sense of extreme helplessness that if he paused to consider it, might just undo him.

He was leaning precariously to apply more gold paint on the far wall, and mentally patting himself on the back for his excellent choice, when the door opened, and the butler announced there were some gentlemen to see him.

He longed to tell them to go away because he was deep into the next phase of the plan but felt curious enough to find out just who it was.

“I’ll see them now.”

“In here, sir, or the drawing room?”

Jemie grinned. Why not? “In here.”

He climbed down, dusted himself off, delighted to see Rossetti amble in. He entered, followed by Prinsep, Burne-Jones, and a couple of fellows he recognised but couldn’t put names to, and all of them stood in the room, eyes wide, staring as they turned about to survey his work.

“Hope you don’t mind, old thing,” Rossetti smiled, “but we’ve heard so much about this commission we thought it high time we paid a visit to see how things were progressing.”

“Be my guest,” Jemie gestured around, and there followed a thoroughly pleasant hour with fellow artists proclaiming him a genius, having seen the panels he’d completed in the hallway and on the staircase, and the work in the dining room.

It was exactly what he needed. They took tea in the drawing room, and then helped themselves to Leyland’s exceptionally good brandy and he judged the visit a roaring success.

So much so, morning calls were arranged for the rest of the week.

He did pause to wonder what Leyland would make of him entertaining in his house, but decided what he didn’t know about wouldn’t hurt.