Page 34

“Yes,” Sebastian said, which was quite true, albeit omitting the detail that most of them were enchanted. “But my favorites are the art, not the weapons.”

“Did you hear that?” Nora said, addressing Lady Ryland on her left. “A man at my uncle’s table who doesn’t like fox hunts and admits he likes art? Be still my heart.”

Geoffrey glanced between Sebastian and Lady Nora, a frown forming.

“My dear, you must show Don Sebastian the Greeks.” Lady Ryland gestured down the table, where Lord Thornton and his wife were speaking with Valemount. “I don’t believe Lady Thornton has ever seen the gallery. If you offer a tour, I’m sure she’ll join, and perhaps some of the others as well.”

A tour of the art and possibly antiques owned by a duke descended from a paranormal?

That sounded quite useful. But before Wesley could comment, Sir Reginald said, “I’m looking forward to cards.

Fine, are you any good at poker? His Grace has promised me a redeeming round after the tables at the Beckley Hunt didn’t go my way.

We’ll grab all the fellows for it—Collins, you’re in too, aren’t you? ”

“Not tonight,” Geoffrey said. “I’ll join the art tour.”

Wesley side-eyed him. “Really?”

“I like art,” Geoffrey said testily.

“Since when?” said Wesley.

“Since tonight,” Geoffrey said, through clenched teeth.

“That’s settled, then,” Nora said, looking pleased. “The gamblers can have their fun after dinner, and we’ll have our tour.”

* * *

The rain picked up strength during dinner, a steady drumbeat against the windows behind their thick red drapes. The table finished their dessert course, and then Wesley disappeared with Valemount and several other men down a hall into another wing.

Sebastian instead joined Geoffrey to follow Nora, who had gathered Lady Ryland, the Marchioness of Thornton, and some of the other hunters’ wives.

Nora led their group up the curving main stairs to the second floor, heading in the opposite direction of the guest wing and finally opening an ornate door to another room with a gilded ceiling done in crimson and gold like the dining room.

It was long, like a large hall, with double doors open at the far end, and the walls were hung with paintings on both sides.

Geoffrey stepped to the side to study the contents of a glass case while the other women spread out through the gallery with appreciative murmurs.

Nora, however, stayed with Sebastian. He couldn’t be sure, but she seemed to have thawed slightly toward him.

He wanted to ask Nora for more information about Dr. Wright, her companion from the ship, but held his tongue.

They’d have three days here; if he wanted her to be honest with him, he needed to deserve her trust.

There was, of course, the chance that Nora herself was part of the plot to destroy magic that had entangled Langford and Alasdair.

But the more time Sebastian spent in her company, the more he dismissed that idea.

He found himself liking her, obviously not the way he liked Wesley, but the way he liked Jade, or Gwen, or his cousin Isabel.

“This collection was commissioned by my great-grandmother,” Nora said, in a quieter voice, as they approached the first painting. “And while I’m sure my uncle would prefer to show you the sword our great-grandfather was gifted by the king—”

“Is that this sword?” Geoffrey said, a bit too loud, as he pointed at the glass case.

“Yes. But, ” Nora said, stressing the word, “Uncle Louis isn’t here, so Don Sebastian is going to visit with the Greeks.” She gestured at the first painting, of a powerfully built man in war dress. “Though unsurprisingly, this one is my uncle’s favorite.”

Sebastian took in the details, from the spear and shield to the headdress. “Is this Ares? Such a detailed interpretation. If you look behind him, you can even see the temple on the hill.”

Nora tilted her head. “So you are indeed an art fan?”

“My cousin Isabel is a painter.” Sebastian would skip the detail about her ability to create paranormal paintings that could stop magic. “She insisted I learn to appreciate the work that goes into creating beautiful things.”

“How sweet,” Nora said, sounding sincere. They stood quietly for a moment, looking at the painting.

“This sword’s very nice too,” Geoffrey called.

Sebastian heard Nora’s tiny sigh.

They moved to the next painting, of an enormous muscular man locked in combat with a giant lion. “And here we have, unsurprisingly, my uncle’s second favorite,” Nora said.

“Hercules?” Sebastian asked, pointing.

“Yes.” Nora cleared her throat. “I’m sorry if this is a forward question but—is that a tattoo?”

“Oh.” Belatedly, Sebastian realized his sleeve had risen when he’d raised his arm. “Not a forward question; it’s right here where everyone can see it. It’s my cousin’s artwork.”

Nora looked intrigued. “You come from interesting family.”

Sebastian and Nora came from the same family, if you went back to the fifteenth century, but he only nodded. “I am very lucky to have them.”

Nora smiled. “Enough of my uncle’s choices; come see my favorite of the paintings.”

As they walked past Geoffrey and the glass case, Sebastian faked a cough. Geoffrey looked up, and Sebastian meaningfully jerked his head. “Don’t you want to come see Lady Nora’s favorite painting?” he said pointedly.

“Oh!” Geoffrey said. “Yes, yes, I do,” he added, hurrying to catch up with them.

Nora led them to the end of the hall and stopped in front of a larger painting.

It was a forest scene, a woman in the foreground with robes flowing loose around her knees and a quiver across her chest. In the background, several women played in a stream.

“Artemis!” Geoffrey said, sounding proud of himself for recognizing her.

“I’m surprised she’s your favorite, Lady Nora, if you don’t like hunting. ”

“It is perhaps ironic,” Nora admitted, “but she’s so beautiful and free. Who wouldn’t want to run off with her?”

“Not if I have to shoot things with arrows,” Sebastian said ruefully.

Nora shot him a grin. “Perhaps you can run off with Aphrodite, then. She’s just here—no hunting, only hedonism.”

Sebastian glanced at the next painting, a woman in the ocean, long tresses strategically covering her nakedness. “Very beautiful,” he admitted. “She favors the Botticelli work.”

Nora swept her hand toward the open doors at the far end of the room. “If you have any interest in artwork from that time, we have portraits of the first Duke of Valemount and his wife.”

The three of them stepped into the gallery.

Again, the walls were lined with art, but Lady Nora was leading the way to the far end.

“Here he was,” she said, indicating a painting on wood, of a white man with an ear-length brown bob under a wide-brimmed red hat, dressed in a gold-embroidered doublet and black cape.

The display tag on the wall beside the portrait had at least nine names.

“And that was his wife, a Spanish countess before she became the duchess.”

And just like that, Sebastian was staring at a painting of his own distant aunt.

“Mariana de Leon.” Nora was still gazing at the portraits. “Such a beauty, wasn’t she? Such style.” The corners of her lips turned up. “Actually, I fancy she might look a bit like you.”

Sebastian eyed his aunt. The countess wore several pieces of jewelry—including a distinctive wrist cuff, set with jewels, that Sebastian had seen drawn in his family’s books.

Had the countess transferred her magic into the cuff already, when this portrait was painted?

Was he looking at the relic that had held her ability to cast curses?

“Lady Nora,” the Marchioness of Thornton called, from the gallery behind them. “You must come tell us more about Aphrodite!”

Nora glanced back toward the gallery, shaking her head fondly. “Excuse me,” she said. “Unless you care for more art history?”

“I will catch up with you two,” Sebastian promised. He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Your Spanish ancestor intrigues me.”

As Nora’s and Geoffrey’s steps retreated behind him, Sebastian stepped closer to the portrait of the duke. And there it was, hanging from a gold chain around his neck in the painting: the medallion that had eventually held the duke’s tracking magic.

Had both of them been painted with their relics? Then what had happened to the relics, after Sebastian’s inquisitor ancestor came after them? Had their altercation happened here, at the site of the Valemounts’ ancestral home? Was this where Sebastian’s own family curse had been cast?

Sebastian’s gaze stole back to his distant aunt, the inquisitor’s sister. Lord Valemount’s words about his brother echoed in his mind.

Damn fool way to go. Alfred should have known to keep the safety on.

Wesley had said the prior Duke of Valemount’s death had been substantiated by a doctor.

Surely it was too much of a stretch to think that doctor could have been Dr. Wright?

But Lord Valemount was close enough to Dr. Wright to send him to America with Nora.

A doctor could have substantiated the story behind Alfred Fairfield’s death, could have helped facilitate the transfer of Hyde to a less secure facility, could have snuck into a New York mental hospital and poisoned Alasdair.

Lord Valemount had been missing the prior night and through the day.

Could he have been with Dr. Wright that day?

There was one place on the grounds where no guests were currently allowed. And if you wanted to hide a guest, a guest house was a good place for it.

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. The women were in the gallery, gushing with each other about the art, while Geoffrey was focused on Nora. Lord Valemount himself was occupied, playing cards with Wesley and the other men.

No one was paying any attention to Sebastian.

As quietly as he could, he slipped out the door of the gallery.