Cassandra nodded. A lady had to be so careful…
Arm-in-arm, they turned a corner and continued down a passage she’d never seen before. Their footsteps were muffled by carpets underfoot as they passed painting after painting. Carvings and busts lined the corridor. Marble plant stands, cabinets, and urns.
At last, Wadebridge paused before one set of double doors. He dropped her hand to turn the knob, and then gestured for her to proceed. “After you.”
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, foolishly entering the darkened space.
His Grace could lock her in and have his way with her. She’d be debauched before anyone could find them. She doubted even Lord Althorne would reach her in time.
There was a flash of a match, a spark of flame as her companion lit the lamps. This room—wherever it was—had been disused for some time. The servants had not thought to prepare it for visitors.
Wadebridge brightened one corner of the space. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light. Set against a backdrop of red damask, a largish, gilt-framed portrait hung upon the wall. Cassandra recognized the deft hand of Sir Joshua Reynolds.
Three young women sat around a circular table. Their high, fashionably grey hair and Georgian dress placed them a century ago. They wore powder, rouge, ribbons, and curls, yet remained fresh and innocent despite being ‘made up’.
One lady labored sweetly over her embroidery hoop. Another wrapped a skein of ribbon in her hand, while the third looked up and away, no doubt day-dreaming. It was the sort of placid, almost stately scene that Reynolds was famous for.
She loved it instantly. Indeed, she grinned at the three women with open admiration. Who could look upon them and not smile?
Wadebridge stood just over her shoulder. “Three sisters,” he said, quietly. “All unmarried. It is said that their mother commissioned the work, hoping a charming likeness would attract husbands for each of them.”
“And did it?”
He laughed. “Would you believe that one of them became a duchess? Another married her cousin, a viscount at the time, who later inherited an earldom. The third sister wed a son of the Marquess of Hartford.”
“A worthy investment, then.” Cassandra laughed, too. “They are so lovely! One can hardly tell them apart—though I assume that was the point.”
“Onecansense their personalities sneaking through, however…”
“Oh, yes. It’s the mark of a good artist. Despite three sitters’ matching hair, identical frocks, and similar features, Reynolds somehow managed to capture their individuality. Not bad for…what did you call the genre, ‘pretty ladies in panniers?’ ”
“I can see the merit, Miss Staunton, even though it does not appeal to me.” He reached past her to gesture at the painting. “Look at that woman wrapping ribbon whilst the other sister lags behind. She seems rather stern and reminds me of your sister.”
Cassandra smiled. “That is definitely Octavia. The dreamy one must be Honoria.”
That left only the sister with her tambour-hoop. “You claim the lady stitching lace for yourself?”
How little he knew. “I am industrious, sir. I do like to keep busy, as my life is not all garden parties and champagne dinners. In fact, embroidery is a favorite hobby of mine.”
“Then I’d say you’ve chosen well.”
She turned to face him. They stood a breath away from one another, haloed in lamplight, alone in a forgotten room. The other guests would be wondering where she’d disappeared to. “Thank you for showing me this. I’d never seen a Reynolds before, and now I can say that I have.”
“I must confess I did not bring you here only to show you the painting.”
Cassandra frowned up at him. Must he ruin a perfect farewell? They’d had a lovely time together, laughing and discussing art. She supposed the inevitable moment had come for even the Duke of Wadebridge to make a fool of himself.
“Shall we be honest with one another?” he asked.
“I don’t see why we haven’t been…”
“I find I like you very much—too much, probably.”
“How flattering…”
“You make me want to do something foolish.” Without warning, he reached for her hand.
Cassandra gasped, wide-eyed.“Sir!”
