“Are you ready?” he asked with a grin.
Serafina blinked, only then realizing he was speaking to the duchesses about the painting.
“It’s not quite finished,” Julian went on, “but I wanted to show you what I have so far.”
He tugged a white sheet from a large canvas positioned between the other two.
“The duchesses gasped with delight. Each dress was painted with vibrant colors, carefully chosen to ensure the colors were correct. He’d also painted their hair to match the proper shades. Much of Aunt Bianca’s and Aunt Rosalind’s upper torsos remained in charcoal, unpainted—in case he needed to make changes, he explained. He needn’t have worried. Both women were delighted with how he had portrayed them and couldn’t wait for him to finish.
“Here’s a small piece of the fabric from my dress, just in case you needed it. But you’ve already captured it beautifully,” Aunt Bianca said, handing him a swatch of cloth. “I have never seen a portrait that better captures my countenance. To me, it was like gazing into a looking glass—but one even more youthful than I am.”
“That’s the highest of compliments, Your Grace.”
“You agreed two days ago to call me Aunt Bianca.”
“I did— It was just a brief lapse,” he said, with a smile.
Serafina was delighted that her aunts loved the painting and that they had asked Julian to think of them as his aunts.
While the duchesses clustered around the unveiled portrait, exclaiming over every brushstroke, Julian drifted to Serafina’s side. With a quiet glance toward the far corner, he guided her there—just enough privacy to speak without being overheard.
“How are you?” he asked softly.
“I’m well,” she said, though her voice carried a faint tremor. “And you?”
“I’ve missed you,” he confessed, the words low and sincere. “More than I can sensibly admit. Two days felt like a fortnight.”
A flush warmed her cheeks. “I’ve missed you as well.”
He exhaled, almost sheepishly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call on you. I wanted to. Many times. But I knew if I saw you, I’d talk instead of paint, and I needed this finished for Their Graces as quickly as possible.” His gaze softened. “And…knowing you were safe with the duchesses brought me more comfort than I can express. I could work without worrying.”
Her heart tightened at the quiet earnestness in his voice.
He hesitated before asking, “Have you heard anything—from your uncle—about Grimsby?”
She nodded. “Yes. He’s still missing.”
A flicker of anger sharpened Julian’s expression. “They’ll find him,” he said firmly. “He won’t slip away forever. I’m certain of it.”
For a moment, he simply looked at her—lookedintoher eyes—with such unguarded affection that the bustle of the studio faded into nothing.
“I expect I’ll have the portrait finished soon,” he continued. “When it’s ready, I’ll bring it to Their Graces. And…if you’re willing…I hope I might speak with you privately then.” His voice dipped, warm and earnest. “There’s something I wish to tell you.”
Her breath caught, anticipation fluttering to life like a secret she scarcely dared name.
When they were ready to leave an hour later, Serafina found Willow sleeping contentedly in the corner of the room. She had been given more than one sandwich and several cubes of cheese.
“She’s obviously sleeping off a food stupor,” Aunt Dora said. “I can’t imagine she’ll be able to move far, without dropping into a ball of fur, closing her eyes, and snoring.”
Serafina laughed. It had not been easy getting Willow to adapt to eating at a regular time and a reasonable amount of food. With everyone wanting to reward her every little cute puppy expression, everything from waving her bandaged paw to snarling at a stranger outside the window.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he had said meaningfully, as they were leaving.
“Julian expects that it will be a few more days to finish. I can’t wait. I love it now. I can’t imagine how it will look in a few days, Aunt Sophy said, excitedly.
“I just never thought about how large the canvas would be,” Aunt Rosalind said. “And we look so lifelike—except a little shorter.”
Everyone laughed.
