Nora had immediately sketched a rear portrait of a dapper gentleman with impeccable style and cloven hooves overlooking a packed gambling house.
The caption beneath had read, “The road to me is paved with gold intentions…”
Nora smiled to herself. Very well, shedidoccasionally enjoy the caricatures as well. They might not be her passion, like drawing gowns and fashion plates, but they were a welcome release in their own way.
Most of the time.
Her smile faded as she thought again about the musicale. What would she do if her publisher forced her to create a cartoon mocking the Grenville scandal?
She could not bring herself to hurt Mr. Grenville or his family. But if she were faced with a choice between saving face for them, or saving the family farm back home… it wouldn’t be a choice at all. She needed to earn as much as possible while she was still in London to do so. Once she went back home, there would be no time for sketches of any sort. Far too much work awaited her on the farm.
Lady Roundtree lifted her head. “About what I said…”
“I vow to sketch you with the unvarnished truth a proper lady requires,” Nora promised.
“Not completely unvarnished,” the baroness said hesitantly. “But maybe… pretty? I don’t mind if you include Captain Pugboat’s wrinkles, but in the interest of time, I’ll find it acceptable if you fail to capture all of mine.”
Nora paused. “Pretty, and unwrinkled?”
Lady Roundtree’s eyes shimmered. “Is it impossible?”
“Pretty and unwrinkled is what I always see when I look at you,” Nora assured her, her smile gentle. “But I shall ensure such details are not lost to the viewer.”
When Lady Roundtree reclined against her pillows anew, Nora took extra care to depict the baroness as a younger, more carefree version of herself. As carefree as Nora wished she herself was.
How she longed for the baroness to view her as more than a servant! Nora saw so much more in Lady Roundtree than a patroness. More, even, than just distant cousins. Nora saw her as a person with hopes and dreams. She was beautiful just as she was, wrinkles and warts and all.
She wished the baroness could see past “Winfield” the employee to the real Nora.
But of course that could never happen. In reality, even if they truly could become “friends” within private quarters, outside these doors their differing statuses created too wide a chasm to bridge. barons and baronesses would never see someone like Nora as an equal.
She focused on her sketch. The baroness and Nora could be friends and cousins only inside her active imagination.
“It’s just… I’m doing this for Lord Roundtree,” the baroness said without lifting her head from the pillows. “A gift. So he can see me even when he’s too busy to come out of his study.”
Nora’s pencil stilled. “A fine gift for the lord of the house.”
“He doesn’t approve of pets,” Lady Roundtree added in a small voice. “But I thought… maybe just on paper…”
Nora’s throat grew tight.
“I’ll make it perfect,” she promised, her voice firm. “It will be the best sketch I have ever drawn.”
Thiswas how she could be helpful. How she could prove herself as so much more than some uninterested chit suffering through her employer’s endless stories because she was paid to be there.
If Nora lived in London with her grandparents, she would voluntarily spend time with Lady Roundtree. And draw her as many pretty, wrinkle-free pictures as she wished.
“There.” With a final flourish, Nora handed her the drawing.
Lady Roundtree burst into tears.
Horrified, Nora reached for the offending sketch. “Wait, I can fix it!”
“It’s perfect,” Lady Roundtree whispered, clutching it to her chest. “Thank you.”
Nora wished it weren’t unseemly for a paid companion to give her patroness a warm hug. She had a feeling Lady Roundtree could use one just as much as Nora.
A knock sounded at the front door.
