Velvet Embrace

nty years of practice before she ever came close to achieving the same degree of rigid imperiousness. Lady Arabella The Terror, Dominic thought with a sardonic grin. She was a petty tyrant, ruling her household and those around her with iron control. Her husband should have taken her in hand from the beginning of their marriage, should have taught her to curb her temper and channel her natural aggressiveness into softer forms of expression. That was what he would do, should Brie become his—

Dominic caught himself abruptly. He had been about to say wife, for Christ's sake. Forcibly he turned his thoughts aside, giving his full attention to Brie's companion. "You requested an audience, Miss Hewitt," he prompted gently, wondering why she was looking at him as if he had grown a pair of horns and a tail.

"Yes," she replied, clenching her fingers around the knob of her cane. "I wanted to speak to you . . . about Brie. As her companion, it is my duty to look after her."

"I won't dispute that," Dominic said when Katherine hesitated.

"I am concerned for her."

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

"It cannot be good for her reputation for her to be seen in your company," Katherine continued at last. "This is not Rutland, my lord, where Brie is well known and respected. Her good name could easily be damaged."

If you only knew, Dominic thought wryly. Aloud, he responded with a question. "Are you perhaps suggesting, Miss Hewitt, that I confine my calls to the times Miss Carringdon is well-chaperoned?"

"No, my lord. I would like you to keep away from Brie entirely. You are not the kind of man I could wish for her to know too well."

Dominic's eyes narrowed. It was one thing to decide himself to stop seeing Brie; it was another to be warned away by a woman he hardly knew. He turned away to mask his anger, noticing the miniatures displayed on the mantlepiece as he did so.

His gaze was immediately drawn to a girl with russet hair and sparkling blue-green eyes—obviously a much younger Brie. The artist had executed his work well, Dominic thought as he glanced down at the tiny portrait. She was laughing, looking very much as if she had the world in the palm of her hand, but there was a hint of something in her eyes that suggested fire and passion. Dominic found it hard to tear his gaze away.

"And if I do not choose to comply with your wishes, Miss Hewitt?" he said, almost to himself.

"Then I shall have to take steps to see that you do, my lord. I do not intend to allow Brie to follow the same path as Lisette."

"Who, may I ask, is Lisette?"

"You really do not remember, do you? You should look more closely at the miniatures, my lord. Perhaps you will recognize the one there on the right."

Growing impatient with her cryptic remarks, Dominic directed his attention to the other portraits. To the left of Brie's likeness were miniatures of several children, including a very young Caroline Langley and, Dominic assumed, her brothers and sisters. To the right was a matched set, one of an older man whom Dominic recognized as Brie's father, Sir William, and one of a dark-haired woman who could have been her mother. Dominic picked up the miniature of the woman, his gaze arrested by the look of sadness in her eyes. Staring at her, he felt the stirring of a vague memory. He was certain he had seen that face before. "Should I know her?" he asked, turning to look at Katherine.

"Yes, my lord, you should. That . . . that is Suzanne."

It was at the same moment that the formidable Lady Arabella swept into the room. "Good afternoon, Lord Stanton," she said with rigid politeness, not noticing how very still her guest had become or how his lips had tightened. "Carson informed me that you had called. I understand that you are acquainted with my niece."

Dominic ignored her entirely, his gaze narrowing on Katherine. "Suzanne?" he repeated, his tone soft but unmistakably menacing.

When Katherine made no reply but simply stared at him, white-faced, Lady Arabella broke in. "Whatever is the meaning of this, my lord?" she demanded in chilling accents. "Why are you browbeating this poor woman?"

Dominic turned his glittering gaze on Lady Arabella, indicating the miniature he still held in his hand. "This is a likeness of Suzanne Durham?"

Astonished by the savagery in his tone, Lady Arabella blinked, then focused her gaze on the portrait. "Yes, that is Suzanne."

"How did it come to be here?"

"Why . . . Suzanne was Brie's mother. My brother William married her shortly after she came to London. She was Miss Durham then, and Miss Hewitt was her companion. I did not approve of the match, of course, for Suzanne was destitute. There was some tragedy, I believe. They had to leave France quite suddenly, for it was during the barbarous uprisings there—"

"Do I understand you correctly?" Dominic interrupted softly. "Your niece is the daughter of Suzanne Durham?"

Something in his tone made Lady Arabella want to shiver. "Yes, but where is this leading, my lord? And where are you going?" she demanded as Dominic suddenly strode past her. "I have not dismissed you, and you still owe me an explanation!"

Dominic halted abruptly, then turned slowly to face her. His eyes glittered like shards of ice as they flicked once over Katherine, then settled on Lady Arabella.

"You are mistaken, madam," he said, tossing the miniature at her feet. "I once owed much to Suzanne Durham, and I now owe a great deal to your niece. But to you, I owe nothing."

Chapter Thirteen

"He must hate me, Julian. But I didn't know. I swear I didn't know!"