Read Online The Painted Lady by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page A

used to power. The man is dangerous.”
    “Fustian. He is a duke.”
    “He is insane. He’d have to be, to come here.”
    “Discomposed, Lilyanne. Discomposed.”
    “I do not care if he is decomposed! He is too strong, too knowing, too used to getting his own way.”
    “You could not be implying that he would ... ? Heavens, Lilyanne, you must not let your imagination run wild with you, else you will suffer a brain storm of your own. The Duke of Caswell is a gentleman.”
    “And no gentleman beats his wife? Abuses his servants? No gentleman participates in blood sports, for the fun of it? Now whose imagination is running wild? Besides, you said Frederick Spires was a gentleman.”
    “Lord Spires was not with us long enough to benefit from the course of treatment.”
    “No, he left after I broke his nose with the fireplace poker.”
    “Very well, Spires was an exception, but Caswell’s condition does not tend toward violence. He is deluded, merely. The duke hears voices.”
    “That’s all?” Sarcasm dripped off her words. “Lord Harewood’s heir heard voices, if you recall. They were telling him to eat raw rats.”
    “That was an unfortunate error in diagnosis. I should have been more concerned with his diet than his exercise. Nevertheless, Caswell is not bound for Bedlam, not by half. He is staying, furthermore, and you will help with his cure, Lilyanne. If you will not think of my reputation, my opportunity to prove myself to those fools and fops in London who would cure a headache with a hammer, then think of the money. Think of your sister, and how you want her to have new frocks for that Christmas party she will be attending, how you felt she needed riding lessons so she could fit in with the wealthier girls, how you keep after me about a presentation for her next year. Those things take money, Lilyanne, a great deal of money.”
    “Money which we would have had if you had not sold off the rental farms and let the other acreage lie fallow.”
    “I am a physician, niece, not a farmer.”
    “And I am a lady, not a nursemaid.”
    “The duke is staying. That is my final word.”
    “Then let him stay in the Dower House. It was good enough for Reggie Harewood until his family came with a barred carriage to carry him off.”
    The Dower House was in disrepair, used only to frighten the most incorrigible of girls into mending their manners. Sir Osgood was aghast to think of housing Caswell there. “My stars, he is a duke!”
    “I wish you would slop saying ‘duke’ as though he were a deity. Caswell is a man. A handsome, powerful, profligate man.”
    “Who is troubled enough to come to us for help. Would you deny him that, my dear?”
    Lilyanne had actually managed to help some of the girls whose families could not control their daughters. She’d taught the chits to moderate their behavior, to think before acting, to become more amiable when faced with adversity. Lilyanne doubted His Grace of Caswell even knew the word submissiveness. She did; she was a woman. Lilyanne nodded her acquiescence. “Very well.” She was also a woman with backbone, so she added, “But Little Henry accompanies us at all time.”
    “Yes, yes, whatever you wish.”
    “And he carries a gun.”
    * * * *
    Lilyanne found the duke in the morning room, where he was staring out the partially opened window, the afternoon light burnishing his fair hair to gold. The windows of every room of Bannister Hall were cracked on clement days, because Sir Osgood believed in the salubrious qualities of fresh air. He also believed the blond-haired, broad-shouldered exquisite in his perfectly tailored clothes was harmless, which showed how much her uncle knew. Lilyanne snapped the window shut and said, “If you will follow me, Your Grace, I will show you to a guest bedchamber. We keep country hours, but you will have an hour or more to rest before dinner.”
    Caswell nodded, and let her lead him toward a dark set of stairs. Halfway up to the