“I, for one, cannot wait to see what he makes of the Grenville scandal,” Lady Febland continued. “I was shocked by the complete lack of caricatures after the eldest became an opera singer, of all wretched things, but I know he cannot disappoint me again. The upcoming wedding is simply too delicious an opportunity.”
Lady Roundtree put down her cup. “I believe Camellia Grenville made a good match.”
“Oh, she certainly did. What one cannot stomach is our own Lord of Pleasure, not just gadding about as if she made a perfectly acceptable countess, but openly gawking at her during performances as though the Grenville chit were a siren who had bewitched his very soul.”
Nora’s spine straightened. She did not know Camellia Grenville or her betrothed, but she was nonetheless indignant on their behalf. How could being in love with one’s talented wife possibly be construed as something to be embarrassed about?
The only thing shameful about it was his peers’ gleeful delight in mocking the happy couple for achieving what the others had not.
Love.
“I hope the next caricature is of her getting the comeuppance she deserves for strutting about on stage like a common actress,” Lady Febland said. “Or of Lord Wainwright returning to his ‘Lord of Pleasure’ ways in a dark theater box while she warbles below.”
Nora stared at the countess in horror.
Those wereghastlyideas, mean-spirited and cruel for no reason other than to deprive someone else of their happiness. To make women like the countess feel even more superior to those around her.
Nora’s mind immediately filled with a much better scenario. She would give gossips like Lady Febland the opposite of what they wanted to see.
Instead of ridiculing Camellia Grenville or Lord Wainwright, Nora’s caricature would mock Society’s ridiculous taboo against a perfectly happy husband in love with his marvelously talented wife.
Caption: “Badton! Not done!”
“I’m afraid I cannot stay.” Lady Febland rose. “If I’m to pick out a tiara for tonight’s ball, I simply must come to a decision between sapphires and emeralds.”
Nora scrambled to her feet. She had never been happier to dip a farewell curtsey in her life.
Once the countess was gone, Lady Roundtree poured herself more tea. “Agnes is far from the only person entertained by others’ sudden falls from grace. The ‘Lord of Pleasure’ sketch was a dangerous precedent, if you ask me.”
Nora swallowed hard.
Lady Roundtree would have no way of knowing that the artist had also been shocked by the overnight infamy of her sketch, and had sworn to never again invent tongue-in-cheek nicknames for the sake of captioning a caricature. From that moment, Nora only sent home drawings featuring the same information printed in any number of scandal columns within the popular newspapers.
But that wasn’t enough. If her plume had power, it should be wielded for good works. To defend the innocent and point out hypocrisy.
More importantly, her family was counting on that money.
Carter had intended to buy more sheep with what she’d earned so far, but between refilling the larder, patching a neglected roof, and hiring a surgeon to finally address their grandparents’ various ailments, not a penny had remained.
Without the extra income from Nora’s cartoons, there was no hope of lifting the farm from poverty. The caricatures were their only way out.
Chapter 13
Days later, Nora had just finished playing an after-luncheon round of Casino with Lady Roundtree when a footman came to announce that Mr. Grenville had come to call and had been shown into the front parlor.
Her stomach immediately filled with both dread and excitement. All she could think about was how much she truly liked him, and how furious he would be if he ever found out who she really was.
“Show him to the front parlor,” Lady Roundtree ordered. “We’ll be there presently.”
Nora looked up from the cards she had been straightening. “We?”
Lady Roundtree frowned. “You are my companion, are you not?”
Nora gulped. That was indeed one of the things that she was. She was also in deep trouble.
For the past week she’d found herself sketching fantasies of Mr. Grenville when she should be doing other things. Drawing impossible dreams. Him, as her suitor. Her, attending his sister’s well-publicized wedding. She and Mr. Grenville, locked in an embrace.
Nonsense, all of it. Nora knew better. Her days here were numbered.
