“Now, why am I not surprised?” Landon said. “Serafina is as fearless as she is kind.”
“Stop,” she said, her blush turning crimson. “The stablemaster, Mr. Hanson, deserves most of the praise for taking care of Willow’s wounded leg, poor thing. But she’s healing nicely.”
“Good afternoon… What a lovely surprise, Lord Landon, and welcome, Mr. Kerr,” Charles said, interrupting in a breathlessvoice as he hurried up to greet them. “Forgive me, I was rendering assistance in the drawing room.” He turned to Julian. “I believe the footmen have set everything up across from the settee where the duchesses have gathered.”
Julian nodded. “Thank you, Charles.”
“Charles, I must apologize for my surprise visit,” Landon said.
“There’s no need for that, my lord. Your presence is always appreciated—surprise or not. The ladies will be thrilled to see you,” Charles said. “And Mrs. Atwell has outdone herself with refreshments.”
“I do hope that means cinnamon scones,” Landon said, rubbing his hands together.
“Yes, my lord, that does indeed mean cinnamon scones.”
“Please follow me,” Charles said, leading the way.
“I say, Mother is after me to have my portrait done as the new earl,” Landon said as they made their way to the drawing room. “Actually, not so new. I inherited the title two years ago. Still have trouble thinking of myself that way. Father was one of a kind. A lot to learn to fill his shoes. I’m afraid hanging a painting of myself up on the wall at the family estate has been the least of my concerns. In any case, I haven’t the foggiest notion where to start or what to look for in a portrait painter. Could you give me some advice, Mr. Kerr?”
“I’d be glad to,” Julian said, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. The younger man really was quite genial and didn’t stand on ceremony. No wonder Serafina considered him a friend. But was that all? Yesterday’s outing and that incredible kiss had stayed with him all night. He’d tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning when he’d finally fallen asleep. He had hoped for a few moments of privacy to speak to her before beginning the sketch, but given Landon’s presence, he’d have to wait until later.
“Excellent. Mother would love to be able to check that off her list of things I still need to do…and I’d like to stop hearing about it,” the earl said, smiling.
They entered the drawing room to squeals of delight from the GDs, who greeted both Julian and Landon like long-lost nephews. The duchesses insisted they have tea and scones first. Later, as Julian watched the earl coax Willow from Serafina’s arms, he began to wonder about the wisdom of keeping his real identity a secret. If he’d told her who he was from the start, would that have made things simpler or more complicated? He hadn’t intended to become involved with anyone, but he could no longer deny his feelings for her.
His glance met the Duchess of Featherly’s, who gave him another curious look over the rim of her teacup. He wondered if she was still trying to piece together who he truly was. If she succeeded, the revelation would no doubt hurt Serafina’s feelings. That was the last thing he wanted to do. No, there was no question about it. He had to speak to Serafina in private and sooner rather than later. Secrets always had a way of coming out—and coming out badly.
“I think we’re ready,” the Duchess of Richmond said, setting aside her teacup. “Shall we get started?”
“Yes. Perhaps you should take your places, Your Graces, and we can decide if adjustments are necessary,” Julian said.
“Since our individual titles can be a mouthful, and you’re working with four of us, why don’t you address us as Serafina does…and call us Aunt Sophy, Aunt Dora, Aunt Rosalind, and Aunt Bianca. How would that be?”
“That’s very thoughtful. But only if you’re all in agreement, Your Graces,” he said.
“We are,” they said, almost in unison.
The duchesses took their places; thankfully, they’d done a good job on who would sit where. Serafina’s Aunt Dora wasthe tallest and stood behind an elegant armchair, whereas Aunt Sophy, as the shortest, sat in the chair. Aunt Bianca stood to the left of the chair. And Aunt Rosalind stood to the right. Aunt Rosalind glanced approvingly at Aunt Bianca’s sapphire blue gown.
He smiled as they fussed while they settled their poses.
“You all look splendid,” Julian said with encouragement, hoping they were finished with fidgeting. He decided it was a good time to go over the process, so he could get the questions out of the way and get them to relax their poses. “I’ll begin by making a sketch first, where I’ll block the placement for each of you, as I endeavor to capture the living energy of your poses.”
“Living energy?” Aunt Rosalind asked. “Is that like our shadow?”
“Not quite.” He smiled. “It’s about how you hold your arms, the tilt of your head. The expression on your face and how you fit with your surroundings. For instance, how those window curtains flutter behind you—details both large and small,” he explained.
“I see. That makes perfect sense,” Aunt Dora said. “As long as this long, black ostrich feather of Sophy’s is either trimmed or removed. I can’t seem to get away from it, and it’s tickling my nose. I don’t want to—” She stopped speaking as a sudden sneeze escaped her.
“It’s not a real ostrich feather, so why is it making you sneeze?” Aunt Sophy demanded.
“Aunt Sophy, I think I can trim it so it will still hold its shape, if you are all right with that,” Serafina offered.
The older woman gave a little nod, and Serafina snipped the top of the offending feather and moved it back where it wasn’t in the way.
“Thank you, my dear,” Aunt Dora said.
“I quite liked that ostrich feather because it was so long,” Sophy complained. “It made me feel taller. We could have switched places, Dora. I would have stood up, and you could have sat. I’m the eldest, after all. Shouldn’t I be standing in the middle?”
