Chapter 6

"Who's coming at this hour?"

The dawn was just about to set and the sky had just turned into a lighter shade. Polly rushed to the window and peered through the misted glass. She glanced at Ava and gave a teasing smile.

"Guess who?"

She opened the door and Magnus appeared in the doorway.

"Hi Polly." Magnus smirked then his eyes riveted to her.

"Hello,"

His eyes were laced with guilt.

"I apologize I couldn't make it yesterday, dear." He came towards her.

"The old man kept me training. He insisted I shouldn't leave before he thought it was enough."

Ava gave him a thorough glance. Magnus had been training so hard recently. He really determined to prove something to his parents, to himself even more, that he could be better than his cousin, at least in one thing. She could see changes in his appearance. He became more muscular and a bit rough, and it just made him looked so ruggedly handsome.

Polly had disappeared somewhere, leaving them in privacy and he came closer, his hand brushed her cheek.

"I hope he wasn't so mean to you yesterday? I'm sorry if he made you feel so bad."

Terribly, she thought. But she didn't want to provoke him into an unnecessary confrontation.

"Ava, dear. What are you thinking? You should tell me if he hurt you. I will go now and kill him."

"No, no. You need not to worry." She assured him. "It was quite unpleasant, but not something I can't deal with."

"My brave girl" His eyes flickered with admiration. "Today is for you, every second of it. Come on, I'll be with you all day."

He stayed by her side the whole morning, walked her along to the market, his hand never left hers. He asked her the details of what happened in the tower yesterday, and she had no choice but to tell him.

"Bloody arrogant" He grumbled, seemed deeply irritated.

"Sometimes I feel, I've been misplaced for all my life. Really, I don't belong to my family. I can't wait to quit and forever be free from them."

He thought for a moment before continuing.

"Their conceit overwhelms me. They think and act like they are the most perfect, dignified, flawless persons in the world. I can't stand such hypocrisy any longer."

"One could hardly blame them for that.

Your family has an impeccable reputation for hundred of years. Thus far they has never been touched by any scandal or indignity. No wonder they despise me. I was born from misdeed, I live in disgrace, and now I've been soaking in scandal."

He squeezed her hand gently in his hold.

"It's entirely not your fault. You cannot choose the way you came to this world, dear, it was given to you, you can't help it."

She could feel sincerity and acceptance in his voice. Magnus, why did he have to be so perfect? She never met a man as genuine, honest and humble as him.

"And my haughty family, they have their flaws too, although they have successfully kept it hidden from anyone until now. And no matter how great Ashton thinks he is, he cannot escape his tainted past, too..."

In an instant, she got curious. As though he could read her mind, he smirked and pulled her hand.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

***

They arrived at a fancy cottage made of stone before a lake. Although it was just a small property, the structure was designed to perfection in a classic architecture style, and made with the finest materials to the very detail. She had no idea what was the purpose of the cottage. To her surprise, Magnus brought her to the back of the building. He didn't find any difficulty unlocking the back door with a thin wire, like he had done something like this a hundred times before. She smiled at the imaginings of him as a naughty boy. Undoubtedly he had thrown himself into mischief very often.

The door opened with a soft clicking sound, and they ventured into the dark room. He moved in the dark easily, obviously he had been very familiar with this place. He reached the window and pushed the curtains open, soon the room was flooded with natural light.

Dozens of paintings crowding the walls. Hundreds of them were on the floor, some were arranged in horizontal lines leaning to the wall or stacked in a heap. Some of them were held by easels. However, the room was large enough to provide space for the total disorder. There were only a minimal set of furniture in the room. A couch, a large wooden table and two chairs.

"What is it?" Ava looked around in wonder.

"It was once a studio."

"Is this yours?" Ava was puzzled, if this studio was his, they shouldn't come from the back door.

"No..." Magnus grinned, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. "Actually it was the late duke's studio, and now it belongs to Ashton."

"Magnus!!!" She exclaimed at once.

"We have to get out of here soon! What if he finds us here?"

"Easy, sweets, easy..." He calmed her.

"He will not find us here. He had never come here again for a long, long time."

"Are you sure?" She glanced around the room cautiously.

He nodded with an assuring smile.

"Take a look around, you'll enjoy some of very fine arts here."

She moved closer to one of the paintings to have a better look. Soon she was fascinated by the magnificent beauty before her. She found a series of old paintings in similar style nearby. With a further observation, she considered the arts seemed to be made by a young artist, probably a child. A very talented one. A thought flashing in her mind. Was it him who painted them all? She remembered how beautiful his painting she had accidentally seen yesterday.

"Oh, you're bruising my pride, sweetheart." Magnus' hurting voice came from behind.

"Ashton doesn't need one more person to admire him. He already got more than enough."

She turned back to soothe him, and found him smiling at her.

"I'm teasing you. He painted this series when he was about twelve or thirteen. He is so damn brilliant, isn't he? I've told you there's nothing he can't do."

Despite his rivalrous feeling towards his cousin, Magnus was genuinely fair to him. She stole a glance at him in admiration. They went from one painting to another. With every painting she found, she felt more and more interested.

There was something gloomy in every painting, like a long unspoken sadness. Every object in the pictures was lonely, like it was longing for something that would never come. Even the houses and the castles in the paintings were sad, as if they had been abandoned and forgotten for so long. She ran a finger along the canvas, trailing an outline of a castle. She sensed sorrow and loneliness, longing and desperation. Silent weeping was underlying beneath all these melancholy artworks.

The image of the duke flashed in her mind. What lay beneath the untouchable facade? Art was a reflection of the inner self of the artist. Apparently someone who could make a highly affecting artwork had the ability to feel, to experience some strong, deep and complex emotions. Not some cold, superficial person who could not see beyond the surface.

She gasped at a painting of a proud smiling little boy in his upper class attire. Right hand on hip, his left foot was lifted to a higher stony path. There were hints of mischief and rebellion in his expression.

"Magnus, this is you!"

"A clever observation, sweet. This was me, over a decade ago, longer I think."

"He captured you very well!" Her eyes sparkling with amazement at the artwork. There was a warm ambience that distinguished the painting from the other. Like it reflected the affection of the artist to the object, like it was radiating a strong yet gentle emotion. It was the only painting that decorated with bright and vivid colors, and held a whole different mood.

"Yeah... actually, we were ... pretty close when we were younger, before that tragic incident. Then everything changed in one night... That's what I mean to tell you, the shameful secret my family had buried long ago..."

"Tragic incident??" She turned to him. "What happened? Had you been hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, but he had. Deeply, I think. He had never been the same again ever since..."

He lifted the painting from the floor, studying it thoughtfully.

"Ashton and I used to be so close before. We were about the same age and there was no other boy of our social footing in the neighborhood, so although we were opposites in character, we were simply inseparable. He used to be a dutiful child. He was solitary and introvert, while as you know, I was a real troublemaker. I was rebellious and extrovert. I didn't like being alone, I didn't like being restrained by rules and regulations, and I had an inclination to throw myself into mischief."

"However, all the differences didn't stop us to be best friends, no... brothers actually... We did everything together. We played, we fought, we played again, then fought again, we got into mischief together..." He smiled at the childhood memories.

"He loved to draw, to paint just like his father. I remembered the days he painted me. It took a week to finish this painting."

"His father was also a great artist?"

"Absolutely. Here are some of his paintings that still remains. The others had been destroyed, for some good reasons ..."

Magnus guided her to a series of paintings leaned against the wall. They were the mature version of Ashton's paintings. Brighter, with bold lines and vivid colors. The style was rather similar in some ways, but the feel was entirely different. His father's paintings were vigorous, showing enthusiasm and somehow rebellious, it reflected in the contrast of colors and the unusual, sometimes ill-matched composition. Obviously he wasn't a conventional artist.

A sensuous painting hidden between a stack of canvas caught her attention. It was a painting of a nude woman, sitting by her back, one of her naked leg exposed entirely, most of her figure was stolen by the shadow. Seemed like the darkness was going to swallow all of her, but her red long hair refused to be lost into it. The vivid, rich-textured red locks were striking to the eyes, surpassing the dark mood of the painting.

"Who was she?"

"Miranda Yves, the late duke's mistress. The duke claimed her as the best love he ever had. His true love."

It took her a while to perceive the information.

"And the duchess, did she accept it?"

Of course not, she answered her own question. It reminded her of her mother, she was sort of the woman in the painting. The duchess of Livingston surely didn't accept her, but what could the poor lady do?

"The late duke was not like any other man you've ever known, dear. He was a real wild child, a free spirit. He denied the rules, society or any social system. He lived by his own free will. He neglected his obligation as a duke, the highest authority in this land. All he cared about were these, his passion for art and the love of his life."

"He never loved the duchess. Like most of the ton, their marriage was arranged by both families for mutual benefits. However, he managed to accomplish one significant duty, to provide an heir. Soon after the duchess bore a son, he went abroad with his mistress, pursuing his dream, to see the world and learn from the world's most prominent artists. He never wrote to his family, he never came home for years... Ashton and his mother were completely abandoned..."

Such a cold, lonely kind of upbringing. It would have been left any child feeling undesirable and perplexed. She felt a mixture of guilt and empathy. She had spent her childhood in a blissful love of a family. She wondered if she had stolen it from the persons who really deserved it.

"Nonetheless, the duchess loved her husband unconditionally. She never cheated. There were many chances, and even more willing men. But she believed one day the duke would come back to her. She believed eventually he would love her back. She was waiting for him with complete faith, over the years."

Ava couldn't imagine a person could have such a total devotion in a one-sided love.

"And did she actually get what she wished for?"

"Sadly not. When Ashton was fourteen, the duke finally came home after traveling around the world. The duchess was overjoyed. I remembered her face when she received the news. She was running over the corridor like a child. She had never been happier. It was the first time Ashton met his father. He was rather awkward than happy. The duke joined us for dinner. We thought he was going to stay after leaving his family for a crazy long time. But he didn't mean to stay longer than a few hours. Later I knew, he couldn't leave Miss Yves alone in this town. The woman was waiting for him at an inn. She was never far from him. She followed him everywhere, France, Italy, even an exotic place like India..."

"What happened next?" Ava got terribly curious, she knew the previous duke and duchess had passed away years ago.

"The duchess refused to let him go, but he insisted to leave. They had a terrible fight in the bedchamber, the servants heard screaming and shouting... Suddenly there was a gunshot, followed with another one..."

She started to figure out what the tragic incident was.

"I remembered seeing my father ran upstairs to their bedchamber, and mother got me and Ashton to her room and locked the door. Father found the duke and duchess had died... The duchess' maid testified later. A story we believed as what might happened that night. The duchess threatened to shot herself if the duke left her again. He tried to snatch the gun, she accidentally shot herself during the fight and get killed. The duke went mad and committed suicide afterward..."

For all her life, she never experienced something as painful and dark. The bleakness of the story pulled her into the gloom.

"I cannot imagine what he was feeling that time... how could he ever deal with it. He lost both parents in one night. And it happened all of a sudden."

"Me either. I would have gone mad if I were him. I would have been out of control. But he managed to stay calm as father told him about the tragedy. I remembered his face became very pale, like he was bloodless, and he cried. I saw tears rolling down his cheeks, but he remained silent. He continued to show the unemotional face. I thought the trauma had shocked him to the level that he ceased to feel, had deprived him of any emotion, but I was wrong."

"The funeral day, unexpectedly Miss Yves came to attend. Father was furious and intended to banish her at once, but mother stopped him. Mother said the duke would want her to be there, and we must respect his wish for one final time. That woman was really devastated, for a moment I felt pity for her... Then I saw Ashton, staring at her like the devil, I swear if a look could kill, the woman would have died rightaway. His eyes were burning like hell. He said nothing, did nothing, but it was the last time I saw his eyes filled with emotion... then he changed all the way to be a distant emotionless bastard until now."

She imagined the young lord giving a black look at a woman who stole his mother's and his own happiness. Was it the way he looked at her too? A sort of Miranda Yves, a woman who took away other persons' happiness for her own well-being. A sort of her mother, her sister and every woman who could be traced in her family lineage.

"You see, my family is not free from flaws too... My father had done very well in hiding the fact from the world. He announced that the duke and duchess had died in a carriage accident, and he kept the witnesses silent with a considerable sum of money and threat. But the truth will always be there, and Ashton will always know it, a stain of his father's blood coursing through his veins, no matter how dignified he might look now. And no matter how rich and powerful he is, he cannot afford to forget it or pretend it never happened."

"Magnus! Don't say such a thing about him. He had suffered a lot."

"And he shouldn't offend you at every turn. Don't you feel disdain for him?"

"I think I will never be able to hate him after I know what he had been through."

He gazed at her intently and his eyes became glowing with his tender smile.

"You know, if there's something more beautiful than your lovely face, it would be your soul." His voice smooth as silk and he moved closer.

"It never stops to amaze me, every moment, every single day..."

He tangled his fingers through her hair, letting it tumble down her shoulders. He stroked the locks gently before he bent to kiss her.

*****

The same day a couple hours later

Ashton walked into the room that once his favorite place in the world. The only place where in his solitary being, he could feel the least alone.

Ironically, this place was left to him by his father, the person who had caused the greatest loss and misery in his life, the one who was responsible for making him literally alone in this world, on his own, belonged to no one.

Dusty and silent, this studio held lots of memories of his childhood. It was the place where he found solace, doing what he loved the most alone. Surrounded by silence, with pencil in his hand slid on the paper, or paintbrush between his fingers swept over the canvas. Entirely alone, absorbed in doings of his own choice. It was the time when he sank into the depth of peace beyond all the riotous thoughts.

Nobody knew he still came to this place. He still painted, though his uncle had once told him that indulging himself in passion would lead him to his downfall just like his father. He had tried to stop, but he just couldn't. Nothing brought him freedom and peacefulness more than sketching or painting. He could labor over a picture for hours, completely immersed himself into it. There was no better way to spend a leisure time.

As he strolled along the silent studio, soon he recognized something was different, unusual. The room was bright in the daylight. He looked around and found the curtains had been drawn. Somebody had been here. He checked the whole room briefly and found that nothing was missing. He stepped on something thin and small. He took it from the wooden floor. It was glinting in the natural light. Woman's hairpin. It didn't take long to identify the silver material. In an instant, he knew who had just sneaked into his sanctuary.

*****

Early in the morning, Ava walked out of her cottage to go to the market. A white envelope awaited her, slipping between the rough planks of the fence. She took the letter and opened it rightaway. Soon she met a line of a familiar handwriting.

"My dear, come see me in the studio soon after you receive this message. Waiting for you.

M"

She wondered what made him call her so early today. She talked to Polly to do the market routine today and hurried to the studio. Before long, she arrived at the stony cottage. She went to the back of the building.

Ava pushed the unlocked door open and stepped into the poor lit room. The dark deepened when she closed the door. She looked around and felt relieved when her gaze caught a tall figure standing in front of the hearth. A little fire struggled to keep burning there, yet it was too small to give enough light to the room.

"Magnus" She walked closer toward him. He turned to face her, and Ava jolted back and screamed in shock to find that the man was not the one she was expecting.

The duke frowned slightly, looking at her nonchalantly like she was a scurrying mouse.

"Calm down and stop screaming. My ears are going to bleed."

Ava covered her gaped mouth reflexively. She went completely speechless, could barely do anything other than staring at him round eyed. She could hear her own racing heartbeat.

He strained his eyes, peering through the dark to meet her gaze.

"I called you because I have matters to discuss with you, Miss Marlowe. I believe we may come to an understanding."

"You called me?"

She blinked. At first she didn't get it. After a while she began to figure out what was happening.

"The message was from you? But how...???"

She knew Magnus' handwriting very well though he just sent her two messages so far. She had read it over and over again on her pillow. Except... he had faked it perfectly. She stared at him with utter disbelief.

"You falsified Magnus' handwriting to deceive me? I didn't expect such a thing coming from you. It's awfully intolerable!"

"Intruding other person's private place is awfully intolerable." He countered coldly.

"I didn't expect such a thing coming from you either. Especially when you've been warned. I know you were here yesterday."

Her eyes got widened even more. He knew it? Impossible. How come?

He put something and showed it right before her. She recognized it at once. Her hairpin. She must dropped it here unknowingly yesterday, unfortunately he had found it.

She shivered from the way he gazed upon her. Everytime his eyes nailed her, she felt like she was standing naked in the middle of a hailstorm, rained by a million merciless frosted drops.

"I... I didn't intend to come here in the first place..." She halted midsentence, hesitating. She didn't want to get Magnus into trouble. But surely the duke knew about it.

"My cousin brought you here, didn't he?"

Suddenly she feared that Magnus would be punished severely this time. He warned her just two days ago, and the day after, she already repeated the same mistake.

Swallowing her pride, she lowered her gaze in a humble submission and answered.

"I... it was all my stupid idea. I coaxed him to show me a lot of interesting places. I had no idea he would have brought me to one of your properties. I deeply apologize for my outright audacity. I promise I shall never do it again in the future. I swear... if I ever break my promise, you may cast me out."

Ashton observed her with a brief yet thorough glance. She put all the blame to herself to protect Magnus. Seemed like she really cared about him. A quality rarely found in a cunning wench. He could hardly blame Magnus for being desperately attracted to this wench. She was a raving beauty. Usually he had never turned twice to a dark-haired woman, for redhaired beauties allured him the most. But he had to admit, she was an exception.

Ava stood still, waiting anxiously. She felt like he was undressing her with his gaze.

"Apology accepted." He finally replied after a maddening silence. "But I'm afraid it won't be enough."

She caught her breath. What did he want from her?

"There is more important matter I need to talk to you. I shall make myself quite clear. You will keep your distance away from my properties, and from my cousin as well. I want you to stop trying to draw his attention and to have any kind of relationship with him. My cousin Magnus is carrying the obligation of marrying well, and I assure you, he has a great opportunity in that matter. I can't let him ruin such a promising prospect to play around with a woman like you."

He gazed at her insolently, his icy eyes brushed her from head to toe.

"As for you, I'm pretty sure before long you'll find another conquest."

She froze as his cruel words stabbed her like a thousand ice daggers.

"I beg your pardon" Her own voice sounded like coming from a distance.

"A woman like me... What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know better than I do."

Her senses told her to hold back, that challenging this man wouldn't bring any good.

"Yes, I know myself better than you do. I am a woman worthy of respect, from everyone and every man who is man enough to have respect for women, no matter what class or social status they are coming from."

Suddenly he stormed across the room and grasped her wrist. She jerked in shock, instantly regretting her foolish counter.

"Women who are committing adultery don't deserve any respect."

She gasped at his abrupt snarl. Though he was somewhat fearsome, he always seemed completely poised. To face his volatile temper was unimaginable. He was so close she could feel his body heat. His warm breath brushed her cheeks yet his murderous glare was chilling her to the bone.

"You and your family, that's all you do, whoring for a comfortable living. You have no shame nor scruples about ruining other people's lives."

"No!!!" She yanked her hand so hard somehow she managed to release his grip. She stepped back timidly to extend the gap between them.

"I'm not that kind of woman, I'll never be... That's true, my mother and my sister are mistresses, but I'm not going to be one of them. I never do as you said, whoring... I want to live a respectable life, I want to live properly. I moved to this town to find another way of living."

What did she just say? Why was she explaining herself to this man? Like he would even care about it. However, it seemed to subside the tension. The wrath in his eyes evaporated and he returned to his self-possession.

"It doesn't make any difference. There's no place for you among my family."

She bit her lip in anguish.

"I have no interest in interfering your personal affair, Miss Marlowe, but if I happen to see you with my cousin again under any circumstances, I shall have your father and your betrothed taken care of you."

Panic struck her like a lightning bolt.

"No, please!!! Don't do that!"

"The choice is yours." He replied in deadly composure.

"I will not touch you if you're wise enough to comply with my request. Otherwise, I shall find it necessary."

She sucked in her breath, her voice trembling when she tried to speak.

"If I ... if I keep myself away from... Lord Magnus, would you promise not to tell my father and my betrothed that I am here?"

He let her wait in a long, torturing moment before answering.

"You have my word."+

*****