A Lady's Dream Come True - Grace Burrowes Page 0,73

but Oak is unattached, in full possession of his wits and his health, and embarking on a career in the arts. Plaything-ing might go with that territory.”

“That is distasteful.”

“The lady is Dirk Channing’s widow. A connection with her would stand Oak in good stead.”

“Who is Dirk—? Wasn’t Channing the battle-scene painter? He romanticized the Irish uprising and made the Americans look brave. How did you come upon this information?”

“The same way I come upon most information pertinent to my own siblings—through Beatitude’s good offices.”

Valerian scowled. “Her ladyship’s in-law’s cousin’s neighbor’s parson’s wife has been spying?”

“What a vulgar choice of word, Valerian. My countess is conscientious in her correspondence, and she wanted to chase down the rumors of untoward doings at Merlin Hall.”

Valerian shoved to his feet. “What sort of name is that for a country manor, and what sort of untoward doings?”

“As it happens, the rumors are quite old, having nothing to do with the present Mrs. Channing. The previous lady of the manor was more in the nature of a concubine whom Dirk Channing regarded as his muse. She either would not or could not marry Channing, and the girl in Oak’s family portrait is the fruit of that irregular union.”

Valerian moved to the window, gazing out on a rainy morning trying to turn up sunny. Oak loved rain because it did interesting things to light. He’d walk around out in the rain, intermittently gazing straight up at the sky and sketching in pencil.

Who would have thought a brother exhibiting such daft behavior would be missed every single time Dorset’s weather turned rainy—and often when it didn’t?

“The widow is raising her husband’s by-blow?” Valerian asked.

“Apparently so, and Oak described the relationship as loving.”

Valerian lowered himself to the window seat. “We must like her for that, mustn’t we?”

“Afraid so.”

“Oak will like her for that. What else do we know of her?”

“She’s the daughter of a wealthy squire, country born and bred, never made a come out. Hasn’t any use for London Society and is quite, quite pretty.”

Valerian pulled a folded paper from an inside coat pocket and studied the bottom half of the page. A red wax stain made a half circle across the top of the paper, suggesting a letter from Oak.

“He doesn’t sketch her as pretty,” Valerian said, brows knitting. “He sketches her as lovely. You can’t tell from these drawings which is the step-child. That will matter to Oak.”

It mattered to Grey, whose daughter Tabitha called Beatitude Mama, though they were no blood relation. “He sketches Mrs. Channing as loving.”

Valerian put the letter back in his pocket. “Oak draws what he sees, to hear him tell it, but Emily says there’s a difference between a portrait and a likeness. Oak usually draws a very accurate likeness.”

“Probably the result of all the botanical work he did for Papa.”

Valerian was on his feet again. “No, it’s the other way ’round. The botanical sketches were accurate because Oak drew them. Now he’s making little portraits on his letters, portraying rather than copying onto paper what he sees with his eyes. This is serious.”

“Oak is overdue for a serious encounter.” Beatitude had made that suggestion. Grey hadn’t wanted to hear it.

“Oak cannot afford a serious encounter with this woman, Grey. She’s a widow, and they are a canny lot, but how can she have missed that he’s determined to take his place in London, while she apparently wants nothing to do with Town?”

Grey dumped the sand from his letter back into the tray in the corner of his blotter. “Sometimes, the person who seems out of reach is the very person we’re meant to hold most closely in our hearts.”

“You refer to my dearest Emily. She was more than out of reach. She was beyond my dreams.”

“No, she wasn’t. I refer to Beatitude. I was determined to marry money, she hadn’t any to speak of, and yet, I could not imagine sharing my life with any woman except her. I had confused money and wealth. I wanted money, I needed wealth.”

“Wealth, Casriel? We’re still notably without means, as titled families go.”

“Our circumstances are improving, but even without means, we are wealthy in the things that matter. We are respected, we are healthy, we are more or less in charity with one another, except for Sycamore, who glories in the role of sibling provocateur. We are finding the spouses we are meant to share our lives with. The only thing we lack, at least as far as our bachelor brothers are concerned,