Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(20)
“Good for her,” Alec said, pleased he could speak calmly. Harrenton would pay for touching Celia—the man had sealed his own fate.
Lady Flora plucked a hothouse rose, deep pink and overly large, from a vase on the dressing table. She broke the stem at the base of the blossom and pinned it to the top of her bodice.
“The duchess was incandescent with rage. She did lock Celia into her bedroom, but their servants, while terrified of the duchess, dote on Celia. They brought her tidbits from the kitchen, kept her apprised of the goings-on in the house, and smuggled out letters for her. She wrote to an older gentleman, a clergyman friend of her father’s who’d been kind to her, told him the entire situation, and asked for advice.
“The clergyman was appalled, visited the duke, and Celia was released. In disgrace, and she is ruined, but the duchess has at last let the marriage matter drop. Celia has a small bit of money her aunt left her, which I am certain bolstered her refusal. But Celia is now to stay indoors and learn to be useful, seeing no one but the immediate family or me. Hence my idea she should paint portraits of her father’s cronies, and …” She waved a languid hand at Alec.
Alec’s fury burned in slow fire. “What did the duke say when his friend came calling to ask about the treatment of his daughter?”
“Ah, I forgot the best bit.” Lady Flora smiled a cold smile. “The elderly clergyman is a staunch Tory. He and the duke became friends of a sort over their anti-slavery sentiments. In any case, the duke, who hadn’t realized the extent of his wife’s duplicity—or so he claims—said Celia fought her battle well, and that she’d have made a wily politician.”
Alec took another deep draught of port. He thought of the brisk way Celia had said on her first day of lessons, Apparently, embarrassing my mother is the most grievous sin of all. She’d spoken quickly, her head up, but Alec had sensed the pain inside her, a humiliation he hadn’t understood.
“I’m surprised they didn’t send her off to a nunnery,” Alec growled. “Pretend they never had a daughter.”
Lady Flora’s brows rose. “Not the staunchly C of E Duchess of Crenshaw. Popery is a greater taint than debauchery, did you not know? Are you Catholic, Lord Alec?”
Alec shook his head. “My grandfather was Calvinist to his bones. ’Tis why my father is so surly. The rest of us fell out of the habit of churching after our childhood. We attend chapel for Christmas and Easter, and even that is kept quiet. Wouldn’t want to catch us actually celebrating anything.”
“Odd that you’re welcome in France, then. The Huguenots had to flee there not long ago, I believe.”
“As I said, we’re not much for churching. And we’re only visiting.”
That was what they told each other, the Mackenzies. That they were in France until outrage at the Uprising faded, until laws became slackly enforced and they could go home again. One day.
“The duchess now prefers to keep Celia at home where she can ensure her good behavior,” Lady Flora continued. She slid a diamond bracelet onto her wrist and expertly closed the clasp one-handed. “So she says. Looking for a chance to use her again is most likely.”
“As a recluse doing portraits of prominent men,” Alec finished. “You are using her as well.”
Lady Flora turned a serene gaze to him. “As are you. The duke adores her and trusts her. Celia is the best way into her father’s knowledge. You must get her to trust you. I suppose that was the point of the nonsense of having her draw you without your shirt. How did you convince her? She knows she won’t be painting nudes.”
“Doesn’t matter. She needs to learn anatomy if she’s to be any good as an artist. She’ll have to understand how the body looks under the clothes, to make the fabric have the right weight and drape.”
Lady Flora sent him a severe look. “I know of your reputation with the ladies, Alec. A heart so warm it would melt a breastplate—that is what Will said of you. I believe you once had to be rescued from a man and his five brothers when you decided to dally with his wife.”
“And much is made of that tale,” Alec said irritably. “His wife had already left him, and she scurried for freedom while I fought him. But I’m not here to make a conquest. I’m here to find my damned brother before it’s too late.”
“Indeed,” Lady Flora said. “If you seduce Celia entirely, please keep it private and make her think it her own idea. I do not need her father bringing a lawsuit against me for not chaperoning her as I should.”
“Trust me, any seduction will be very quiet and behind closed doors.” Alec would make certain absolutely no one interrupted if he managed to take Celia to his bed. It would be beautiful with her, not sordid. “The woman doesn’t need more troubles.”
“If she has a child, she will have them,” Lady Flora said warningly.
Alec scowled. “I know how to prevent wee ones from coming.”
“A mercy you do.” Lady Flora returned to her mirror, lifting a strand of diamonds to test against her hair. “Else women would line the roads, hoisting up Mackenzie babes in their arms.”
“Exaggeration,” Alec muttered.
“Not by much.” Lady Flora dropped the diamonds into a tray, rejected. “While you pump Celia for information, I will also be prying it out of my acquaintances. I will host a salon tomorrow evening. You will be there, unobtrusively. You’re a gentleman and an artist, eking out a living teaching. No worry any will recognize you—these ladies and gentlemen have never been anywhere near Scotland and couldn’t possibly lift a weapon to join a battle. Soldiers and generals never attend my salons.”