‘And what do I have, Henry? D’you want to give me a detailed inventory? Because I can only come up with the clothes I’m sitting in and a life full of shit, so if you can think of anything else I’d be really fucking grateful.’ There was enough venom in my voice to make Henry run a mile, but for once he stood his ground.
‘Do you want the truth?’ he asked. ‘You’ve got hope. You’ve got something – someone – in your life who’s managed to bring a smile to your face. And you know even better than I do that given the slightest opportunity, Blaine will use that to destroy you.’ He reached across the table, stopping an inch short of touching my hand. ‘Pull back, Finn. For both your sakes.’
‘I can take it.’
‘You might be able to. But can Lilith?’
And with that, the very last spark of enjoyment died. I wanted to argue through the night to prove him wrong, but we both knew he was right. And I was the only one who could do anything to fix it.
Chapter Seventeen
Lilith
Towards the end of her morning sitting, Blaine announced, ‘I have a request.’
The portrait was now as near to perfect as I ever got, but I was no nearer breaking through Blaine’s mask now than I had been on my first night at Albermarle Hall. I was used to seeing my work come alive on the canvas as I removed each layer that life had left on my sitter’s skin but day after day Blaine Albermarle stared out at me with that same impenetrable, perfect façade. My latest piece was beginning to scare me.
‘Have you heard of a gentleman named Royce Garvey?’ Blaine asked.
‘No.’ The name was vaguely familiar, but surly felt better.
As usual, Blaine didn’t rise. ‘He’s a television presenter – strictly highbrow, you’ll be pleased to know. He’s made some marvellous documentaries about the Roman Empire. Won all kinds of awards.’
‘I’m so very pleased for him. And this has what to do with me?’
‘He and his fiancée are guests at the Hall tonight – a birthday treat for her. He’s a huge fan of yours.’
Unease began to rise in my chest as though a horde of maggots squirmed there.
‘When Royce heard that you were staying on the island, he enquired about the possibility of meeting you, preferably over dinner. I should imagine he’d be perfectly content to spend the first hour of his evening chatting with you – just some gentle smalltalk to pander to his ego.’
‘No.’
She sighed. ‘I knew I might encounter a little resistance.’
I glanced up from my canvas. ‘I would say it’s a little outside my remit,
wouldn’t you?’
‘Absolutely,’ Blaine agreed, and I tensed. I had learned now that this reasonable tone signalled trouble. ‘As I said, it was merely a request.’
‘Good. Can you keep your head still for me, please?’
‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ Mannequin-still, Blaine continued, ‘However I’m sure Finn would be grateful for your involvement.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Royce is rather keen to impress his fiancée, by all accounts. Between you and me, I think he feels he needs to compensate for a significant age-gap and wants to provide her with a little excitement. He’s requested Finn for the entire night.’ She finally turned her head so that she looked directly at me. ‘Judging by certain information in his introductory letter, it would appear that your friend is in for a rather uncomfortable time. Of course, if you feel that this is ‘outside your remit’, I’ll just inform Finn that he’s starting a little earlier. I know how important your morals are to you.’ She stood, signalling the end of the sitting, and reached for her bathrobe. ‘However I can share with you that Royce has booked the dungeon as his room of choice.’
The line that was once so clear began to erode that little bit more under my bare feet and I knew I was damned whatever I decided.
Blaine hadn’t finished. ‘I’m sure Finn would understand. After all, he dealt so admirably with the after-effects of your other recent refusal.’
I was no longer so sure. Ten days had passed, but this was the first time that Blaine had alluded to the events of that evening; in fact, it was the first time anyone in the house had mentioned it – Finn included. He had hardly said a word to me beyond a curt ‘morning’ since.