The Death of Dulgath Read Online Free PDF

lord glanced over his shoulder with a dismissive sniff. “You painted my aunt Mobi’s picture last summer at her villa in Swanwick.”
    “Yes, I remember. Beautiful place. Lady Swanwick was most gracious and generous.”
    Fawkes nodded. “Yardley painted her portrait as well, two years before, and yet she insisted on one by you, his apprentice.”
    “Actually, that happens quite often.”
    Fawkes paused in his game of toss to hook a thumb at the covered painting. “Everyone gasped when you unveiled her portrait.”
    “I get a lot of that, too.”
    “Aunt Mobi sobbed when she saw what you’d done. Ten minutes passed before she could say anything at all. Uncle Karl was certain you’d offended her.”
    Sherwood nodded. “The Earl of Swanwick called his guards.”
    “I heard they took you by the wrists and started dragging you away when Aunt Mobi found her voice and stopped them. That’s me! she said. That’s how I really am—no one has ever seen me like that before. ”
    “I get that, too.”
    “Did you sleep with her?” He tossed the bottle higher than he had before.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Is that how you impressed her so? How you got her to be so generous ?”
    “Did you see the painting?”
    Fawkes chuckled. “No. I just heard the tale. Aunt Mobi keeps it locked in her bedchamber, where I’m certain she dreams of the young artist who captured her so exquisitely. I wonder why a woman married to an earl would be so impressed by a penniless artist.”
    “Does this story have a point?”
    Fawkes smirked. “My point is, that painting—which captured Aunt Mobi so perfectly that she may have betrayed her husband—took five days to create. So once more I ask, why are you still here, Sherwood?”
    “Some portraits are more difficult than others.”
    “And some women are harder to seduce.”
    Sherwood snatched the bottle in mid-toss. “Pigments are not toys.”
    “Neither is Lady Dulgath.” Fawkes stared at the bottle in Sherwood’s hand for a moment, then turned away. “I assumed you were merely freeloading off your patron’s goodwill. Possibly lingering because you had no other prospects. Now I believe I’ve been naïve.”
    He looked again at the linen-draped painting as if it were a veiled face watching them. “Life as an itinerant artist must be taxing and perilous. I suspect that living in a castle with your own bed and studio is a significant improvement. But you’ve forgotten one thing. She’s noble; you’re not. There are laws against such things.”
    “No, there aren’t.” Sherwood placed the bottle of blue pigment on the easel’s tray and stepped between it and Lord Fawkes.
    Fawkes glared. “There ought to be.”
    “If we are speaking of things that should be, you would have been born a dairy farmer in Kelsey instead of the cousin to King Vincent. Although that would have been a terrible injustice to cows, which I’m certain is what Maribor was thinking when he made you a landless lord.”
    Sherwood was exceedingly pleased that Lord Fawkes no longer held his precious bottle of Beyond the Sea. The Maranon lord of no-place-in-particular sucked in a snarl. His shoulders rose like the fur on the back of a dog. Before he could open his mouth to cast some vile insult, Sherwood cut him off. “Why are you still here? The funeral was more than a month ago.”
    This had the effect of pouring cold water on a flame. Fawkes blinked three times, then settled into a murderous glare. “In your single-minded efforts to enter Her Ladyship’s bed, it may have escaped your attention that someone is trying to kill her.”
    “And what does that have to do with anything?”
    “I’m staying to protect her.”
    “Really?” Sherwood said with more sarcasm than he intended, but he was more than nettled with the lord. “Perhaps it has escaped your attention that she has a contingent of well-trained guards for that. Or is it your belief that the only thing standing between Lady Dulgath and death is the