The Portrait of a Scarred Duke by Patricia Haverton

Chapter 4

When Seth sat to be painted only a couple of days later, all the memories of sitting for painters came tumbling forward from his childhood. He’d loathed this, hated being still for hours. His fingers itched, as if aching to complete some action at the very edge of his awareness.

He felt as though he ought to be adjusting sails and rigging, searching the deck for errors. He ought to be shouting jovially at his men, while the sea breeze ruffled his hair.

“You pose excellently, Your Grace,” Richard Thorebourne said.

That seemed like something every artist said to their models. Seth supposed it was preferable to hearing lies about how handsome he was, though. At least, Richard had spared him that awkwardness.

Still, this venture was something he’d have rather avoided. Sitting for portraits was just unbearably dull. Unbidden, the image of Elinor Thorebourne came forth from the mists of his mind. He remembered all too well her sea-blue eyes and the way color blossomed over her creamy skin. His breath gave a small hitch.

Would this be as dreadfully dull if she were my painter?

Maybe it would be. She, like her father, might use the same compliments and remarks that she always used on her models. Still, when he thought of her eyes, narrowed and intense, focused on his face, a shiver traced the path of his spine.

It’s because I’ve been at sea for too long. I’m starved for female attention.

The thought of that same attention filled him with dread. He didn’t want their pity or their disgust, and despite what his mother said, he was sure to receive both. Maybe that was why he really kept thinking about Elinor. At first, she’d struck him as indecisive.

She was sharp wit and fire one moment, and aching politeness the next. But she’d proven in those few minutes where she helped her father pose him that she knew her trade well. The problem was surely himself, then. He affected her in an odd way.

“How is your daughter?” Seth asked, trying not to sound too invested in the inquiry.

It was fine to ask about one’s relations. That was an acceptable query.

Richard paused, seemingly surprised. “She’s well. She manages the studio while I’m away.”

“She must be very competent.”

“She is.”

They lapsed into silence again, and Seth tried to decide how to word his next question without sounding as though he cared too much for this painter’s personal life. Vaguely, Seth was embarrassed by it all. He’d only spoken to Elinor for a handful of minutes, and yet he found his thoughts drifting back to her ever so often, like the tides pulled by the moon.

“Should she require any assistance, I’m sure Henry would be willing to spend some time in the studio with her,” Seth said. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Seth meant for it to be an act of generosity. He’d meant that Elinor wouldn’t have to manage more on her own on his account, and she could spend some time with her uncle. At the well-meaning suggestion, Richard only frowned. “I will bear that in mind, but I’m quite sure that Elinor can manage on her own. Besides, she prefers solitude when she paints. She finds the smallest interruption to be quite bothersome. It would be unfair, too, if I were to deprive you of your steward.”

“I think I’d manage fine for a few days,” Seth replied.

Having spent so much time on ships, he’d learned that he could survive without a great many things.

“Just so,” Richard said.

They fell silent again. Seth resisted the urge to pick at his nails. This portrait was such a ridiculous idea.

But it will please my poor mother.

He knew that his mother would now be taking her daily stroll with her lady’s maid. At least, he hoped that would be the case. A handful of the staff had privately informed him that his mother hadn’t left her room for weeks after his father’s death.

It wasn’t normal for someone to feel their grief so strongly, or so they said. Seth was content to let his mother grieve how she desired. Not everyone was able to push past tragedy so easily, nor should they. As he thought of his mother, he felt his own sorrow stirring within him. Some days, it didn’t seem real that his father was really dead.

“You’re so patient, Your Grace. I know this is an arduous activity,” Richard said, interrupting Seth’s thoughts.

“For you or for me?” Seth asked.

Richard looked taken aback. “For you, of course. I enjoy my trade.”

“But doesn’t it ever bore you?” Seth asked. “Simply staring and sketching and painting?”

“No, never.”

Seth nodded, feigning as though he was digesting the answer. He hadn’t expected his attempt at humor to receive such a serious response. “I’m glad you enjoy your trade. It’s nice to see people who have the freedom to do what they enjoy.”

It felt like the sort of response a Duke ought to give, even if it didn’t feel very much like him.

“Yes,” Richard said.

Seth curled his toes inside his boots. Sitting so still was so unnatural to him. Even after he’d been home for this long, it still seemed impossible for the world not to move around him.

He’d loved sailing. That was something he enjoyed, not being a Duke. Seth tried to recall if his father had ever really enjoyed being a Duke. He’d been an effective one, good with budgeting, and popular with his tenants. Seth couldn’t recall if managing the dukedom was something which ever gave his father pleasure, though. It was a distinction he’d never cared to ask about, but now, he wished he had.

“Does El—Miss Thorebourne also enjoy painting?” he asked.

“Her passion for art is unrivalled,” Richard replied, his smile fond. “I wish I’d been able to do more for her. I fear she has surpassed me in many respects, and I’m not sure what to do now.”

“Isn’t that what parents hope for?” Seth asked. “For their children to be better than them?”

It was what his father had hoped for. His mother, too.

“It is, indeed,” Richard replied. “It will be more difficult for her to succeed, though.”

“On account of her sex?”

Richard hesitated, seemingly trying to decide if he wanted to pursue this thread of thought. “Yes.”

“She seems very determined, though,” Seth offered.

This was odd, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t ask so many questions about this man’s daughter, but to be fair, it wasn’t as though there was much to do for entertainment when he’d been tasked with sitting before a mantle for hours.

“Her mother was very strong-willed, too,” Richard said.

Seth noted the was in the sentence.

“How long ago did she die?” he asked softly.

“When Elinor was very young,” Richard replied.

Seth nodded. It must’ve been very difficult for the young Miss Thorebourne, being raised without a mother. She might’ve not had the benefit of a governess, either. It would’ve just been her and her father.

“You have my condolences,” Seth said.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Richard said, “but it was so long ago.”

That didn’t mean the pain couldn’t still be there. Still, Seth smiled politely.

“Less enthusiastically, Your Grace. I’m not finished with your face.”

Seth’s smile faded, and he let his face return to the neutral expression which he’d held before. This was dreadful and restrictive, everything he’d disliked about returning to England and taking the title, Duke of Worthwood.

At least, I’m prepared for it.

That didn’t seem as encouraging as he wanted it to be, but he was confident that he could manage the dukedom well if nothing else. It wouldn’t be his beloved sea, but at least, he wouldn’t drive the estate into ruin or bankruptcy.

Small victories.

That was the best one could hope for sometimes.

* * *

Richard didn’t have Seth sit every day, for which he was grateful, if unusual. He suspected his mother might’ve explained how resistant Seth was to the idea of the portrait, and maybe Richard was being careful for fear that Seth would refuse to sit one day and make his life infinitely more difficult. Seth knew it was too late for that.

Seth spent his morning in his father’s old study. His study, although he still didn’t feel entirely comfortable calling the room his. It still held all the signs of his father. Those were his books in the shelves, his papers still neatly organized within the drawers of his great, mahogany desk, and his furniture spread throughout the room.

There was a sharp knock on his door, and Seth tensed. “Enter.”

Henry opened the door. He was a tall, spindly man with sharp features. Seth considered him. Having met both Miss Thorebourne and Richard, he could see the familial resemblance. Henry had the same thick, auburn hair that his brother did, and his eyes were the same blue-gray. The color wasn’t quite as dark as Miss Thorebourne’s eyes, though. It was a little more muted.

“Your Grace,” Henry said, bowing. “A pleasure.”

Seth watched the man closely. It was impossible to miss the flicker of pity and distress in his eyes. Seth forced down the instinctive blaze of anger he felt. This was the first time Henry had seen him since the accident. Of course, he’d be surprised. Seth knew he could only expect so much of people. “Thank you for agreeing to see me today. Please, be seated.”

Henry smiled and took the offered chair opposite Seth’s own. “Of course, Your Grace. I’m quite glad that you sent for me. I had an excellent relationship with your father, and I’m eager to work together with you for the good of the dukedom.”

Seth smiled at the man’s enthusiasm. “My father did always speak very highly of you, and I’m very grateful to have you. Would you like a drink?”

He could almost pretend that he was at sea again, sharing a drink with his fellow naval officer. The drink would be better, though.

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Your Grace.”

Seth produced a decanter of brandy and filled the glasses with it. Henry took his glass, taking a large gulp from it. Seth merely held his glass for a long moment. It was something to occupy his hands, not quite enough to settle the urge to do something. But it was better than nothing.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that the dukedom is prospering, though I’ve no doubt you surmised that already.”

“Of course. My father would never leave it in a dismal state. He was quite devoted to the dukedom.”

His father had the knowledge to accompany that devotion, too. Seth would consider himself fortunate if he managed to be even half as good as his predecessor.

“He will be missed, but I’ve no doubt you’ll be as equally devoted to the dukedom and her people.”

Seth nodded. He took a sip of brandy in a vain hope to steady his nerves. When he thought of how efficient and good his father was, he felt a knot of doubt twist deep in his belly.

“I would like to see your papers, so I have a better idea of the state of the dukedom,” Seth said. “I don’t doubt that you are managing everything well, but I’d like to see them myself. I hope you don’t take offense.”

“None at all,” Henry said. “I find it admirable that you’re so eager to take on the mantle of managing the dukedom.”

Seth smiled gratefully. “You’re too kind to me. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace.”

Seth traced a finger around the rim of his glass. “I should like the papers before I leave for London,” Seth said. “If you can manage it. I’d like to review them before the Season.”

Seth had no doubt that his mother would keep him busy once they were in London, given her resolve to introduce him to what would doubtlessly be a nearly endless retinue of eligible, unmarried women.

“I’m sure that I can,” Henry said. “It won’t be difficult, Your Grace.”

“Good. I didn’t expect it would be, but I also wouldn’t want to keep you so occupied that you might be unable to enjoy time with your brother.”

Henry smiled wryly. “That’s thoughtful of you, Your Grace. I’m not sure that my brother will appreciate your generosity, however. He and I seldom agree on anything.”

“Oh.”

Seth hadn’t imagined the hesitation he’d seen on Richard’s face, then. The brothers didn’t like one another. It must be terribly awkward for Miss Thorebourne to manage having her father and uncle dislike one another.

“Maybe you’d like to visit your niece, then,” Seth offered, “since she’ll be managing the studio. I don’t mean to be involved in your family’s business, but I know that you don’t realize how important your family is until…”

This was too personal. Seth took a large mouthful of his brandy, drawing some comfort in the familiar burn of it as he swallowed.

“Of course,” Henry said. “I’m quite sure that you and Her Grace feel that loss so acutely.”

“Indeed.”

Seth traced a finger around the rim of his glass again. This wasn’t something he ought to discuss in polite company. This wasn’t something he ought to talk about with anyone. He forced aside the weight of his grief and imagined himself burying it deep inside himself, so deeply that no one would ever find it.

“But all anyone can do is keep living,” Seth said, feigning as though he wasn’t bothered. “We do the best with what life hands us.”

“That’s certainly true, Your Grace,” Henry replied. “I’m quite sure—if I may be so bold—that you’ll feel that very strongly when you’ve a family of your own.”

Seth smiled, reminded a little of Elinor. She was bold, too. “That is bold of you,” he replied. “We shall see how the Season goes.”

Although he would try in earnest to find a suitable wife and please his mother, Seth doubted that he’d be as successful as his mother seemed to hope he would be. Even if he was a Duke with a sizable fortune, who wanted to be married for that alone?

He wasn’t a handsome man anymore, and he didn’t enjoy the idea of being married to a woman who thought he was hideous, either. Maybe he could insist that she only ever look at him from the left.

“I’m sure all will be well, Your Grace,” Henry replied.

He was so loyal and encouraging. It was no small wonder that his late father had spoken so highly of Henry.

“I know,” Seth said, trying to adopt a nonchalant tone.

Maybe if he buried all his doubts deeply enough in the earth, they wouldn’t keep rising to the surface like they were. He finished his brandy and placed the glass firmly on his desk.

“To the dukedom,” Seth said.

“To the dukedom,” Henry agreed.

When Henry placed his glass on the desk, his eyes were shining. Seth couldn’t help but think of Elinor. With so much bearing down upon him, how was it that his thoughts kept returning to her?