to him, a slight smile on her lips. “Did you suppose I hadn’t noticed the color of your eyes, my lord? They’re rather distinctive. You and your brother look very much alike.”
Both gentlemen had strong features with prominent cheekbones, angular jaws, and high, proud foreheads. The current Lord Darlington was as handsome as his elder brother had been, but there was nothing of Nathanial’s carefree happiness in the man who stood beside her now. Grief had stolen the joy from his face, and painted lines of regret in its place. “Were you and your brother close, my lord?”
Lord Darlington didn’t answer right away. He was staring up at the painting still, an expression Cecilia couldn’t read on his face. “Yes,” he said at last. “We were, particularly when we were boys. Less so once he married, though we spent a good deal of time together in London in the few years before he died.”
“Did he…did he fall ill?” Nathanial Rhys’s death was none of her concern, and she half-expected Lord Darlington to tell her so, but he answered with a frankness that startled her.
“No. He drowned in Darlington Lake.”
Cecilia whirled to face him, a soft gasp on her lips. “I…but how terrible to lose him so tragically. I-I’m truly sorry, my lord.”
He drew in a quick, hard breath, but he said only, “I am, too. I can’t tell you how sorry.”
They were both quiet for a time, staring up at the handsome face, then Lord Darlington moved to the end of the row, and nodded up at the last portrait. “It was taken a decade ago.”
Cecilia followed after him, but froze when her gaze locked on the painted version of the man who stood beside her. It was beautifully done, the delicate brushstrokes as exquisite as the face of the young man gazing back at her, but if she hadn’t known him to be the current Lord Darlington, she might not have recognized the two to be the same man.
Lord Darlington was about twenty-five in the portrait, a breathtaking young man with a mop of wavy dark hair and a devilish glint in his startlingly bright blue eyes. His posture was easy, relaxed, and though he wasn’t smiling, there was a hint of amusement around the corners of his mouth.
Cecilia swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. With Lord Darlington standing so close to his likeness, she could see with stark, heartbreaking clarity the toll grief had taken on him. Whatever had happened in this castle a year ago, Lord Darlington wore the effects of it on his face as surely as he wore his coat or his cravat.
“Amazing, is it not, the ravages unkind years can wreak on a face?” Lord Darlington’s voice was light, but there was a note of sadness that made Cecilia’s heart clench with pain for him. She turned to look at him, wishing she knew what to say in reply, but he wasn’t looking at her.
He was staring at a space on the wall beside his portrait where the portrait of his marchioness should hang. It was empty. Cecilia could see by the pale, rectangular patch in the wood paneling someone’s portrait had once hung there, and been recently removed. “What of your marchioness, Lord Darlington? Where is her painting?”
It was natural she should wonder, but Cecilia saw at once this was the wrong question to ask. Lord Darlington turned on her, his mouth tight. “I told you once curiosity isn’t a desirable trait in a servant, Cecilia. Have you forgotten?”
“Have you ever noticed, Lord Darlington, the more secrets one has, the less desirable curiosity becomes? No, I haven’t forgotten what you said. I have quite an accurate memory. Is that also an undesirable trait in a servant?”
His gaze jerked to her face. “You did warn me you had excellent aim,” he muttered with grudging admiration.
Cecilia wasn’t sure what to make of this cryptic comment, so she said nothing.
“It’s nearly my niece’s bedtime,” Lord Darlington said. “Have you quite finished strolling about the picture gallery?”
“Yes, my lord.” A dozen more questions rushed to Cecilia’s lips, but Lord Darlington’s hard expression made it clear their brief moment of sharing confidences was over.
“Very well.” He stepped aside, and waved her toward the stairs.
Cecilia edged around him, but he followed so closely behind her she could feel the heat of him, hear the soft sound of his breaths, and her skin tingled with awareness. “Is there something else you need, my lord?” she asked, when she