Drawn to the Duke (Hearts in Hiding #6)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

S elina shifted position on the small hard chair in what appeared to be a tiny storeroom.

No doubt the gossip was all over the castle that someone had tried to kill Lord Chauncy.

The whispers had already started as Selina had been escorted through the castle corridors by Lord Saunders before being thrust into the airless room she now occupied.

She’d heard this refuted by others along the way. “No! The artist did it!” And “No, it was the artist’s wife!”

With time to think, in the darkness, Selina realized her plea of innocence may not hold up.

Lady Saunders was cunning. She’d claim that Selina had deliberately written the incriminating words on the likeness of Lord Chauncy before she’d given it to the assassin in order to deflect blame.

Selina presumed the dead man was the assassin.

As to his motive in wanting the duke dead, she had no idea.

Had Lord Chauncy really been the intended victim before Sir Simeon had shot the man supposedly intending to kill him?

Who would want Lord Chauncy dead? And why?

Worse, His Grace now appeared to believe everything Lord and Lady Saunders said, while considering everything that came out of Selina’s mouth to be a lie.

Once a liar, always a liar. It’s what her governess used to say to her.

No one believed a liar and, clearly, Selina had lied to His Grace.

Her stomach roiled and her heard hitched as she put her head in her hands and tried to think.

Lady Saunders accused Selina of hiring the assassin.

But surely it could only have been either Lord or Lady Saunders?

They had stolen the drawing of Lord Chauncy that had been found on the assassin’s body because she had recognised it.

She tried to recall what else she’d heard of the couple’s conversation when Selina been hiding in their bed chamber. Lady Saunders had said something about waiting until Lady Rushworth’s ball to ask for a loan. Lady Saunders had also been rejected by Chauncy.

Bile rose up her throat. Who would believe Selina over Lady Saunders?

The door opened suddenly and Sir Simeon barked, “His Grace is asking for you.”

He took Selina’s arm as if suspecting she’d run and marched her down several corridors and into the drawing room, where a cluster of people turned to stare at her as Sir Simeon pushed her in front of Lord Chauncy.

He seemed taller and broader than she remembered. But not as yielding. And there was no tenderness in his expression as he waved her to a seat while he stood with his back to the fireplace.

“This likeness,” he said, holding up the very first drawing Selina had done of Lord Chauncy, “ was found on the person who tried to kill me tonight. With the aid of a looking glass, Lady Boothe, it does, indeed, bear the words you claim. Therefore, there were two likenesses—the other being the one given to me.” He stopped, sent her a long, considered look, then asked, “But, first of all, who is Lady Boothe? It is not you, madam. And, if you are not Lady Boothe…who are you?”

Selina shifted on her seat as she drew upon her courage.

“I am Selina Boothe,” she replied. “At least, that was the name I was born with.”

Lord Chauncy nodded. “Selina Boothe, eighth child of Sir Francis Boothe, Baronet. Widow of Samuel Martin. Footman.” He drew out the pause. “ Sister of Sir Edward Boothe. The artist who drew my likeness. Supposedly.”

Selina said nothing.

“So, Selina Boothe, you claim to have done this drawing; an excellent likeness, I might add.” He glanced at Edward, who lowered his head.

“Then please prove it.” Lord Chauncy passed her pencil and paper.

“Whom shall I draw?” asked Selina.

Lord Chauncy shrugged. “I don’t care. I only want to see for myself how fast and accomplished—and accurate—you are.”

Lady Saunders, after a quick word to her sister, interjected. “Really, Chauncy, what does it matter who drew the likeness? The mere fact that it says in writing that I apparently stole it is clear evidence that I have been falsely maligned. There can be no other explanation other than that this woman is behind the attempt on your life. You insinuate that she is not Lady Boothe? Then she must be connected to one of your political enemies. And whoever that is needs to be teased out of her. For there you will find the motive for your would-be murder.”

Chauncy ignored her, watching intently as Lady Boothe’s pencil raced across the paper, outlining, drawing, shading.

“There!” She said finally when the sketch was drawn, as she thrust the paper at Lord Chauncy.

He stared at it a moment, a look of surprise dawning before he let out a short shout of laughter which he immediately quelled, saying in serious tones, “I think you have established that you are the artist though I think I also should have asked you to draw my likeness rather than that of Mrs. Piggott.”

A gasp of outrage shook Mrs. Piggott out of her seat as she declared, “Do I have to destroy another of this woman’s vile parodies? Why, she drew me the night she falsely claimed to be the wife of the so-called artist. Such malice in her rendition. So upsetting. I had no choice but to burn it.”

Selina threw wide her arms as she declared hotly, “But at the same time you also burned the drawing I’d done of His Grace, meaning I had to find another opportunity to draw him, which I did, looking through the conservatory glass from the outside. But when I hid the picture under a stone, Lady Saunders stole it. Of course, I didn’t know it was Lady Saunders at the time, though I suspected it was one of you seeking revenge for the picture I’d drawn of you, Mrs. Piggott, and I was right, for I found my picture of His Grace on Lady Saunders’ desk. I resolved to make another copy in a hurry, but to mark Lady Saunders’ as stolen as indeed it was.” Selina glared at the two women while Edward sat quietly on a chair, glowering at her as she told her side of the story.

But what could Selina do? She had to tell the truth. Right now, she was being accused of not just madness but of hiring an assassin.

Lord Chauncy considered her words.

Selina wished he would speak. Instead, it was Sir Simeon who said, “Petty revenge appears to be your motive… Miss Boothe? I’ve seen it before with your kind. Your drawing of Mrs. Piggott proves that you are quick to resort to petty revenge. Clearly, you wished revenge on Lord Chauncy, too. Why? Because he scorned you?”

Selina glanced at Lord Chauncy and, for the first time since Selina had been accused of murder, his expression was not harsh and unflinching. Instead, he looked thoughtful. No, perhaps that was doubtful.

She seized her moment. “I have been accused of many things in my life, but murder is not one of them. I did not hire an assassin to kill Lord Chauncy!” Selina said hotly. “Why would I? He has proved a … a kind benefactor to my … brother and me. He promised to help us find other painting commissions. Why would either of us have any desire to kill him? He’s not scorned us. He’s helped us.” She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t accuse Lady Saunders directly but needing to plant the seed of doubt in the minds of her interrogators as she suggested, “Perhaps Lord Chauncy scorned someone else who then hired an assassin to have their revenge? Perhaps Lord Chauncy scorned… Lady Saunders?”

Lady Saunders’ mouth dropped open but Sir Simeon interjected, his tone surprised as if he were discovering something for the first time, “I now see, on the back of the likeness, that someone has written the words: This is the man I want— ” He squinted as he deciphered the writing. “Is that sentence complete? Or is there a word missing? “This is the man I want —” Or, should it read: “This is the man I want dead ?” He looked about him. “Or do both sentiments hold true, and if that is the case, then whoever commissioned the assassin was someone who wanted Lord Chauncy; someone who—when he displeased her—wanted him dead. Miss Boothe, did you write this?”

Selina shook her head. “There was nothing written on the back when I found it in Lady Saunders’ chamber.”

“Perhaps someone recognizes the handwriting?” Sir Simeon handed the drawing to Lord Chauncy who studied it a moment, before he looked at Lady Saunders, though he said nothing as he handed it to her husband, asking, “Familiar?”

Lord Saunders thrust it away from him. “It means nothing!” he snarled. “Only that this is another attempt to smear my good wife’s name.”

Sir Simeon conceded this with a nod. “Indeed. For what possible motivation could Lady Saunders have had for wanting His Grace dead?”

Just as Selina expected Lord Chauncy to direct an appropriately accusatory look at Lady Saunders, the door was thrust open and a breathless footman announced, “His Royal Highness The Prince Regent has arrived.”

The gathering rose as one, Sir Simeon leading the way towards the corridor before he turned and, indicating Selina and Edward, made a gesture as if to ask Lord Chauncy what he wanted done with them.

Chauncy, who had begun to follow, flanked by two footmen, stopped.

“I shall see to the matter. Please go ahead.”

Anna—for that’s the name he associated with her—remained by the fire with her brother.

She stepped forward. “Your Grace, I merely did what was asked of me. Neither Edward nor I had any desire or motive to have you harmed. Please believe me.”

Chauncy frowned. This evening’s events had him deeply rattled.

Could Catherine really have wanted him dead? That was his growing suspicion.

But at the core of his disappointment was the knowledge that Anna had hidden beneath his bed, not because she desired Chauncy but because she had been forced to capture his likeness after Catherine had stolen the original drawing.

Everything was now quite clear.

Anna had merely done what she had to save her skin.

“Please, Your Grace, I have what you wanted.”

Was she now finding a way to insinuate herself into Chauncy’s good graces, having made a fool of him?

He sent her a level look. “You don’t have anything I want… madam.”

Her trembling lip and damp lashes left him unmoved. She was clearly an adept actress.

“I have the drawing you asked for, Your Grace,” she persisted. He saw she was brandishing a piece of paper upon what he could now see was a drawing of the three suspects. Even from this distance, he could see the drawing was well executed.

Efficient.

That’s what Lady Boothe—no, Anna Boothe—was. Clever and efficient.

A woman who didn’t care what she had to do in order to get what she wanted—whether that was to lie with another man. Or lie to another man.

Chauncy took the drawing. He tried to keep the emotion from his voice, which meant he had to turn his head away from her gaze. “I’ll see you are properly remunerated.” He didn’t mean to sound so abrasive when she began to question him.

But it was the only way to wield the upper hand when he was so dangerously close to revealing the depth of his wounding.

How could he trust her after she had lied to him?

Catherine had tried to have him killed. He was not sure of it.

Catherine, who’d pretended to love him so long as he gave her what she wanted.

He stared at the beautiful, seductive, irresistible Anna—Selina—Boothe, hardening his resolve to resist the yearning in her large, pleading eyes.

“Is that… everything…you have to say to me, Your Grace?” she whispered. Her voice shook, and she really did look as if her heart was broken.

But, like Catherine, Selina knew how to play upon his emotions.

Oh, she was good. A beautiful temptress, a consummate seductress. A skilled actress.

And everything that came out f her mouth, including what she claimed was in her heart, was a lie.

He nodded. “That is everything I have to say to you…madam.”

No, Chauncy didn’t need another Catherine in his life.