“Indeed?” Mina asked, stirring her fresh cup of tea. “And how old is Master Edward?”
“He is some eight years, or thereabouts,” Jeremy answered with a vague wave of his hand.
“I would be happy to make his acquaintance, of course.”
“And you could see that portrait of our mother which hangs in the grand salon,” he finished, very much in the style of one who reveals a winning hand. “Provided of course,” he added smoothly. “Your esteemed husband does not object to letting you out of his sight.”
“Why should I?” answered Nye gruffly, getting to his feet. “You could go back with him now,” he suggested, looking straight at Mina. “Give you something to occupy yourself with.”
She gazed back at him directly. “I could,” she agreed. “Though I have plenty of things with which to occupy myself with, I assure you.” She thought fleetingly of the first-floor bathroom which she had meant to apply herself to today.
“Excellent!” said Jeremy, looking pleased. “In that case, I shall await your leisure.”
It did not take Mina long to finish her breakfast, and after collecting her bonnet and cloak, she accompanied Lord Faris out to his carriage. Settling back against its velvety seats bought back some rather unpleasant memories, which she did her best to suppress. How much had changed in just under two weeks! Her time in Bath seemed a lifetime ago.
Jeremy climbed in after her. “Drive on Colfax,” he said, loudly rapping his cane against the roof of the carriage. He turned toward her. “By the by, I feel I should mention I did nip to London to procure that special marriage licence I was so remiss as to overlook initially. The archbishop’s office was even so obliging as to pre-date it too, so it matches the registry entrance made by Reverend Ryland.”
“I see,” said Mina, wondering with unease what excuse he must have made for such a favor. On the whole, she did not think she wanted to know. She lapsed into silence for the rest of the ten-minute journey, and Mina watched the approach of Vance Park’s neo-classical grandeur with interest. After all, her mother had been mistress here once. It was an astonishing thought, taking in the impressive sweet of the drive with its avenue of trees and its army of white stone nymphs peering out with their blind gazes.
“Well, sister?” Jeremy asked her with a smile playing about his lips. “What do you think of my humble abode?”
Mina’s first thought was that it was not exactly subtle, but she swallowed this, instead replying gravely. “I think my mother must have loved my father very much.” At his quizzical look, she added. “She never once reproached him with all which had once been hers.”
“Ah,” he said, enlightenment dawning. “My father always said that running off was the most interesting thing she ever did.”
Mina pondered this a moment, as the coach drew up. “I’m surprised he granted her a divorce,” she said bluntly. “Many husbands would not be so generous. Did he never marry again?”
Jeremy shook his head. “Once was enough, he always said. Besides, by all accounts he accorded her far more respect once she had left, than he ever did during their marriage. He rather liked the story of his once-meek countess, pushed beyond endurance.” He pulled a face. “He thought, I fancy, it lent him a gothic air.”
Mina frowned as Jeremy sprang down from the carriage then turned back to offer her a hand. She took it. “I already know he did not look like you,” she said slowly. “For you look like our mother.”
“Quite right.” He laughed, drawing her hand through the crook of his arm. “There is a portrait I will show you shortly. You may draw your own conclusions as to who it is resembles my late lamented father.”
They were climbing the stone steps now to the main entrance, flanked with Tuscan columns and a pair of large reproduction Medici lions.
“The entrance hall,” Jeremy announced, and Mina caught her breath when she looked up to behold the gold ceiling with its pantheon of gods drifting above her on clouds of glory.
“Goodness, how beautiful,” she breathed. “Is that the birth of Athene?” she asked, catching sight of a large white marble relief on the far wall.
“It is,” he agreed without much interest. “But you must steel yourself to ignore your patron goddess and instead, behold this,” he said coming to a halt in front of a full-length oil portrait of a man in a fancy uniform in front of a vaguely Italianate landscape. “And tell me who he reminds you of.”
Mina was obliged to catch her breath on surveying the dark good looks of the subject. For the features were unmistakable from the strong jaw to the bold stare which challenged all viewers unflinchingly.
“William Nye, to the life, is he not?” Jeremy murmured.
Mina colored. “The resemblance is very strong,” she admitted.
“You may imagine my father’s feelings on the matter. His bastard bearing the stamp of his likeness far more faithfully than his heir ever would,” Jeremy mused.
Mina was spared having to answer this by a light step on the stair, followed by a high childish voice.
“Papa?”
Jeremy sighed. “Our respite was brief,” he grimaced. “Come, Edward and greet your aunt Mina.”
The steps grew faster, and Mina turned toward the staircase to see a small figure come hurtling down dressed in navy velvet breeches and jacket with a lace collar. Seeing the curls on the child’s head, Mina saw Jeremy was spared the indignity his own father
