Bella looked around, trying to spot Ann in the crowd.
“Look to the right,” Lady Malmsby said, pointing. “There are Ann and her duke.”
Bella looked in the direction the Duchess pointed, happy to see her friend, Miss Ann Hallowell. “They make an attractive couple,” she observed.
“Yes, they do,” observed Lady Malmsby, a self-satisfied smile pulling on the corners of her lips that Bella found quite interesting. There was a story here, she was sure of it.
As they approached the couple, she noted they appeared to be discussing the painting hung before them. The oil painting was of the mist at dawn over a pond, just as it is burning away in the rising sunlight.
Lady Oakley leaned toward her. “The Duke painted that.”
Bella looked at her, astonished. “Ann’s duke? The Duke of Ellinbourne?”
“Yes. He is as talented, some would say more talented, than his uncle.”
Bella’s brow furrowed. “His uncle?”
“Clarence Wingate.”
Bella tilted her head to one side for a moment, then nodded. “That’s right, the Wingates of Ellinbourne.”
“Yes.”
“I saw one of Clarence Wingates’ paintings once.”
Lady Malmsby laughed. “Yes, of a certainty you did! When you helped us catalog Lady Travis’s art collection.”
Bella blinked, then blushed at the memory of the painting.Adam in the Garden of Eden, the engraved plate on the frame had said.
Lady Malmsby’s lips twisted in a sly smile. “And the subject of that painting is Helena’s betrothed.”
“What?!” Bella shrieked, then looked around. “The subject of the painting is Helena’s betrothed?” she whispered, embarrassed to have drawn the attention of those standing nearby.
Lady Malmsby laughed. “Yes. I sense you remember the painting,” she observed wryly.
“That is not a painting a person—at least a woman—forgets easily.” She vividly remembered the painting. It was a painting of a man standing in full nude glory amongst trees and shrubbery, an apple in his hand. It was also supposed to be a part of one of Candelstone’s secret communication transmissions.
“And you say Helena is engaged to the subject of that painting? He was—I mean—isa real person?” she continued.
Lady Malmsby fairly giggled. “Yes. And I might have played a part in both those engagements.”
Lady Oakley shook her finger at the Duchess. “Vivian Nowlton, that is a Banbury tale. You were trying to marry off poor Ann to Viscount Redinger.”
“Only until I met Ellinbourne,” Lady Malmsby defended. “I quickly realized he is perfect for her. I should not have ultimately let her become engaged to Redinger. Totally unsuitable.”
Lady Oakley shook her head. “Nonetheless, that was an entertaining house party. I’ve never been to one quite like it.”
“Nor are you ever likely to again,” drawled Lady Malmsby.
The ladies laughed together. Bella raised an eyebrow in questioning confusion.
They were almost to the Duke and Ann when Bella saw Aidan Nowlton, Lady Malmsby’s son. Her heart clenched in her chest. She should have realized if the Duchess was here, her son would be close by. Of all the people in London, he was the last person she would want to see.
She stopped nearly mid-stride, pulling Lady Malmsby off balance.
“I should find my brother,” she abruptly said. “I told him there was enough art in the Great Room to keep me occupied for hours. If I am not in that room and he comes to look for me, he will get anxious,” she babbled.
She pulled her arm free from Lady Malmsby and turned to walk back to the main room. Even after three years, the pain of Aidan Nowlton’s betrayal ripped through her.
