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Tea was an occasion for parents to leave their offspring in the nursery and gather below stairs for some sustenance and conversation. Because Je
“So what will you do?” Joseph, Lord Kesmore, asked his brothers-by-marriage.
Westhaven glanced around and noted Their Graces were absent, and the ladies were gathered near the hearth on the opposite side of the large, comfortable family parlor.
“Do? I wasn’t aware we were required to do anything besides eat and drink in quantities sufficient to tide us over until summer of next year,” Westhaven said.
The Marquess of Deene patted his flat tummy. “Hear, hear. And make toasts. One must make holiday toasts.”
St. Just shifted where he lounged against the mantel. “Make babies, you mean. My sister looks like she’s expecting a foal, not a Windham grandchild, Deene.”
Gentle ribbing ensued, which Westhaven knew was meant to alleviate the worry in Deene’s eyes.
“The first baby is the worst,” Westhaven said. “His Grace confirms this. Thereafter, one has a sense of what to expect, and one’s lady is less anxious over the whole business.”
“One’s lady?” Lord Valentine scoffed. “You fool nobody, Westhaven, but Kesmore raises an excellent point. Every time I peek into the studio in search of my baroness, all I see is that Harrison and Je
“Arguing is good,” Kesmore informed a glass that did not contain tea. “Louisa and I argue a great deal.”
Respectful silence ensued before the Earl of Hazelton spoke up. “Maggie and I argue quite a bit as well. I daresay the consequences of one of our rousing do
Toasting followed, during which Lord Valentine admitted congratulations were also in order regarding his baroness, and St. Just allowed he suspected his countess was similarly blessed, but waiting until after Christmas to make her a
When every unborn Windham grandchild had been recognized by the assemblage, Westhaven said what they’d all been avoiding.
“My countess tells me Genevieve has taken it into her head to remove to Paris. I suspect she wants to avoid being aunt-at-large, while her own situation admits of no change. We are Je
“Paris reeks,” Lord Kesmore said. “Harrison’s scent is rather pleasant by comparison.”
“He smells of linseed oil,” St. Just observed.
“A point in his favor,” Hazelton murmured, “from Lady Je
Westhaven glanced around the group. “Then we are agreed. Lady Je
Paris began to loom like salvation for many reasons.
Je
Gladys had given her a long, pitying look, but had shared what she’d known.
“You could do more with that necklace,” Elijah said, peering at Je
Elijah was a great one for making things resonate. Je
“I could tell you that your portrait is of a duchess, while mine is of a wife and mother. She doesn’t even like jewels, Elijah, but wears them so as not to hurt His Grace’s feelings.”
Elijah wiped his hands on a rag and glanced around the room. “Your cat has abandoned us, and you’re peckish. Tea came and went an hour ago, and you’ve hardly left this room since you took a luncheon tray some hours before that. I was making a suggestion, Genevieve, not a criticism.”
Outside, darkness had fallen. Je
“Is your portrait of Sindal’s boys done?” she asked, stepping back from her easel.
Elijah used his rag to wipe paint from the handle of a brush, the way a soldier might wipe blood from a sword. “As done as it will be. West has written that Fotheringale harps on the lack of a completed juvenile portrait from me, though I showed them all the sketches.”
Je
Instead of cleaning the brushes, Elijah dunked them in a jar of turpentine—also across the room from the fire—and sat on the hearth beside Je
He kissed her cheek while Je
“You affect me. I paint better when you’re near, and I was warned about His Grace’s wassail—or Her Grace’s—by the regent himself. Marry me.”
She wanted to say yes, even if this declaration was not made out of an excess of romantic love. “If I marry you, I ca
He leaned back, resting his head against the stones behind them, closing his eyes. “I’ll take you to bloody Paris, and you can appreciate for yourself that the cats have ruined the place. Rome isn’t much better, though I suppose you’ll want to go there and sniff it for yourself too.”
He’d promise to take her there, probably to Moscow as well if she asked.
“Babies put rather a cramp in one’s travel plans.” Because if she were married to him, and Windham proclivities ran true, babies would follow in the near, middle, and far terms, and all hope of painting professionally would be as dead as her late brothers.
“Your siblings all managed to travel with babies. What’s the real reason, Genevieve? We’re compatible in the ways that count, and you’re dying on the vine here, trying to be your parents’ devoted spinster daughter. Marry me.”
He was tired, and he felt sorry for her. Of those things, Je
“You need to go home, Elijah. I need to go to Paris. Painting with you has only made me more certain of that. If I capitulate to your proposal, I will regret it for the rest of my days, and you will too. You feel sorry for me, and while I appreciate your sentiments, in Paris I will not be an object of pity.”
Nor would she be the object of marital schemes, and that… that was important too, though exactly why it was important, Je
Elijah was silent for a moment, while beside him, Je
“Compassion is not pity, woman. I find it puzzling that a lady who’s about to turn her back on all she’s known—family, friends, and familiars—exhorts me so relentlessly to go home.”
The paintings were coming along nicely, which Je
Though in Paris, a woman could take a lover. The notion was incomprehensible—a procession of Denbys and glorified flirts who would only leave her feeling lonelier.