Chapter One

May, 1815
ADRIANA HAYDEN DIDN’T even have to turn around. The quiet click of the door closing and the sigh of the sofa were all that she needed to hear to know that her dearest friend and companion, Henrietta, had come into the room.
She finished dabbing the black paint onto her canvas before stepping back and deciding that she had probably put too much. Well, she didn’t care. It was perfect and it reflected her mood so precisely Adriana imagined she wouldn’t even need to say a word to Henrietta.
She would paint the whole thing black if it wouldn’t ruin what was turning out to be a rather nice depiction of a stormy sea. The water thundered, crashing with violence onto the rocks at the base of a sheer cliff. Menacing clouds hung overhead within moments of letting loose a torrent of rain.
“Oh dear,” her companion said quietly, over the roar of the sea in Adriana’s mind.
Adriana closed her eyes for a moment to stop them from stinging and then swallowed down the anger that had risen to the top of her throat again. “They wouldn’t even let me see him,” she said, without preamble.
“Who wouldn’t?” Henrietta asked.
Adriana turned around into the quiet of the room. Henrietta was sitting, as always, with her back perfectly straight and her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked ever so slightly under the worn, comfortable sofa. Her brown hair was pulled up so tightly Adriana wondered that it didn’t hurt, but her hazel eyes spoke volumes of sympathy, for which Adriana was grateful. Adriana resisted the urge to run up to her dear friend and throw her arms around her.
Instead, she lifted her chin and replied, “The clerk at Sir William’s establishment.”
“So you didn’t even get to see Sir William? You didn’t show him your work?”
Adriana shook her head and turned back to her painting. Carelessly, she dabbed more black paint on where it wasn’t needed, darkening the sky even further.
“But that’s not right!” Henrietta said, full of indignation for Adriana. “What reason did he give?”
Adriana couldn’t even bear to turn around to face Henrietta again; the hurt was still too painful. She bit her lip to keep herself from either screaming in rage or crying like a thwarted child. She swallowed hard, again. “The clerk told me that he was certain that my watercolors were very pretty, but Sir William Agnew did not deal in a young lady’s dabbling. He only sold the work of true artists.” She paused at Henrietta’s gasp, but then continued. “He suggested that I give my work to some handsome young gentleman in the hope that he will marry me.”
“No, he didn’t!”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why, the nerve! The gall! The temerity of such… such…”
“A man,” Adriana finished for her.
“An imbecile is what I was going to say.”
“Perhaps they are one and the same,” Adriana said, allowing her mouth to quirk up in a little smile.
Henrietta just harrumphed.
Adriana turned around and attempted to put a real smile onto her face. How was it that Henrietta always made her feel better? No matter what had upset her, Henrietta always slipped herself right up under Adriana’s hurt and pried it away.
“It’s all right, Henrietta. I’ll just try someone else. I don’t have to sell my paintings through Sir William. I’m certain there are plenty of other art dealers who will take a look at my work.”
“But Sir William is the best,” her friend argued.
“Yes, but another dealer will be able to sell my work just as well. He may not get the prices Sir William could command, but at least we’ll get the money we need.”
“Oh, Adriana, it’s such a shame to have to sell your beautiful work…”
“But necessary. Absolutely necessary,” she said with all of the conviction and certainty she felt, and that was substantial.
“You wouldn’t have to sell so many or worry so much about price if you just left me…”
“I will not! How could you even suggest that I leave you here to deal with Lord Devaux yourself?” She took the few steps that separated them and knelt down on the floor at Henrietta’s feet. “We will wait until I have enough money for both of us to survive. I will never leave you.”
Henrietta squeezed Adriana’s shoulder gratefully. “But…”
There was a knock at the door. Before Adriana could respond, Lord Devaux himself walked into the room.
Adriana stood up. “Cousin!”
It was as if the rainclouds from her painting had just entered the room. Suddenly it felt cold and dark, despite the sun that still shone through the tall windows.
Next to her, Henrietta popped up from the sofa. “I… I’ll… Excuse me,” she slipped past Lord Devaux as quickly and unobtrusively as she could.
Lord Devaux didn’t even acknowledge Henrietta’s fast–retreating back. He just allowed his eyes to rove slowly over the small, bright room, taking in all of her paintings piled two, three, sometimes even four canvases deep along the walls.
Adriana’s arms slowly wrapped themselves around her middle as she felt, in the pit of her stomach, the disgust that covered her cousin’s face. His eyes slowly came to rest on her and his lip finally raised in a sneer.
“What a waste of money and time,” he drawled.
Adriana closed her eyes for a moment. “What is it that you want, my lord?” To her own amazement, her voice came out calm and even.
“I want to be rid of all this…” he waved his arm around to indicate all of her hard work, “…this garbage. For once and for all, Adriana, I am finally going to get this trash out of my house.”
Adriana found herself having to work hard to keep breathing, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He couldn’t! He couldn’t get rid of her paintings. They were her life. They were the only thing that she truly cared about, and her only way out from under his thumb. “You promised me I could keep my work and my studio if I acted as hostess at your political dinner parties…”
“…And kept my house. Yes, I know. But you won’t be doing that for much longer.” Lord Devaux sighed and walked around the studio slowly, the look of disgust never far from his pinched lips.
“I had hoped to get more years of service out of you when I agreed to take you in.” He turned and looked at her, his beady blue eyes glittering with malice. “No one else would, you know. No one else in the family was willing to take Hayden’s daughter. He was… odd, what with his experiments and strange notions. But then, so was my cousin, your mother. I suppose that’s why they got along so well.
“And you were such a scrawny little thing—you were what, five when they perished?”
Adriana gritted her teeth. “Six.” She took a deep breath to dispel the anger that was growing inside of her. “You know I’ve always been grateful for your… charity,” she said. She had thought to say ‘kindness’, but there was nothing kind in the way Lord Devaux treated her. There never had been.
“Yes, naturally.” He made his way back slowly toward the door. “I just hope Henrietta will be as useful as you’ve been,” he said. “I’ll need someone to arrange my parties for me and to be my housekeeper. Although she was never very good at it before you took over, perhaps she has learned something from watching you do it for these past five years.”
“Why would Henrietta…”
“My cousin has turned out to be an excellent nanny for you, but she is worthless when it comes to dealing with adults,” Lord Devaux interrupted her. “We all have our talents, I suppose.” He then turned and looked at her with something that could be construed as grudging respect. “You have a natural talent—for housekeeping at least. If not for this.” He waved his stubby fingers vaguely around the room.
“Your talents have brought you a husband, Adriana. Er, your talents as hostess and housekeeper, that is.”
Adriana’s stomach lurched. “A husband? I don’t want…”
“If you think I care for a moment what you want…” her guardian began. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Adriana knew he didn’t care one whit for her or for what she wanted. She took a deep breath, letting the familiar smell of her paints and turpentine soothe her.
“You cannot force me to marry!” she finally said, trying to keep the triumphant tone from her voice.
“Your father may have stipulated that you had the right to choose your own husband in his will, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t, er, help you decide.” A little smile flickered on his lips. “Either you marry the man I have chosen for you, or this, all of this,” he indicated everything in the room with a sweep of his eyes once more, “goes. I will never allow you to draw again.”
Spots began to dance in front of Adriana’s eyes and the tightness in her stomach made its way up to her throat. “You can’t do that,” she whispered.
A smile slowly grew on Lord Devaux’s face as he looked around the room. “Oh, yes, I can.”