“Children,” their mother said, rising to her feet, “what is the meaning of this, and where is your governess?”
Sophia skidded to a halt. “Miss O’Brian is packing for our journey.”
“It is so exciting,” Lydia added.
The duchess pressed her hand to her waist. “Packing? What nonsense. Have you lost your minds?”
Sophia plopped down next to Madeline on the sofa. “It is true. We were playing a game of hide-and-seek with Robby. He said he thought of it when he went into the village with Miss Mercer. Lydia and I mentioned that we are all so bored. And wouldn’t it be nice to attend the Frost Fair in London?”
Lydia sat down on the other side of Madeline and nodded until her curls bounced. “Our brother remarked, “’Not this year,’” in that way he does when you know he is only half listening. Then I said we thought that Miss Mercer might like to go, since we were sure she hadn’t been to one.”
Sophia tugged on Madeline’s sleeve. “Should we have asked you first? It all tumbled out before we thought, and the Frost Fairismagical. The River Thames freezes over and there is skating and sledding, and gingerbread.”
“And hot apples, and puppet plays,” Lydia said.
“The Frost Fair sounds wonderful. Yes, I would love to go. What did your brother say when you said you thought I might like to attend?”
Sophia giggled. “Robby said was that so? We all said it was indeed so. Then he told us to instruct Miss O’Brian to pack. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Lydia squealed. “We leave at the end of the week.”
“What is this?” the duke said, entering. “You have spoiled my surprise of agreeing to travel to the Frost Fair.”
“And a grand surprise it was, my son. You are to be commended. To what do we owe the honor of your company? Your father said he never liked the women’s room and would never visit me here. Is your presence meant to change that habit?”
The duke scanned the room, focusing on the painting by Angelica Kauffmann,The Temptation of Eros. Eros was depicted as a cupid, making people fall in love by shooting an arrow into their hearts. In the painting, Eros was whispering in the ear of a lovely maiden, dressed in sheer, silk-like fabric.
The duke frowned, venturing a glance toward Madeline as though to gauge her reaction. “My father believed these paintings too provocative for the gentle sensibilities of a woman and therefore disapproved of them creating such images. In order to do so, women would have to view the male and female form unclothed.”
“And yet it is considered of no consequence for a man to hire nude models,” Madeline said with a forced smile.
“Precisely,” the duke said, missing the set of Madeline’s jaw and the rising anger in Madeline’s expression. “Men have the capacity to appreciate the naked form without giving in to the needs of the flesh.”
Madeline curled her fingers into claws, with the intent of strangling the man. The duke stood with a stone-faced expression, attempting to convince her that women could not control their lustful thoughts while men had the fortitude of saints. Even if her mother had not owned a brothel, she hoped she would have had enough sense to realize the duke was delusional.
She took a step, but the duchess restrained her, casting her a conspiratorial smile. “Son, if it is improper for a woman to paint images such as the ones in my collection, what would you believe to be appropriate?”
“Why, the lovely sketches Madeline drew of my sisters. Or bowls of fruit, or landscapes and the like.”
The duchess shook her head slowly. “I love you dearly and had hoped that venturing out into the world would have expanded your awareness. But you are quite the beef-head.”
“You call me daft? I excelled at Cambridge.”
The duchess glanced toward Madeline and rolled her eyes. “I apologize. His Grace is quite the jolterhead, is he not?”
Madeline smiled, releasing the tension she had been holding close. She had expected the duke to share the opinions of the rest of theton. What had surprised her was that the duchess did not seem to share the same views. Even more surprising, the duchess had not sided with her son but with her. A perplexing conundrum.
She focused her attention on the duke. “I agree with your mother. Women should paint whatever subject they desire.”
The duke glanced between his mother and Madeline. “I need a whiskey.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Madeline had misgivings regarding the Frost Fair. She and the duke would be forced to spend time together. Her encounter with the duke over the type of paintings women should draw, and the duchess’s surprising comments, were confusing. The duchess had taken Madeline’s side as though she wanted to match Madeline with the duke. That was preposterous. Her son was engaged to Lady Montgomery.
Her mother, however, was delighted at the prospect of Madeline attending the Frost Fair. Many of the eligible bachelors in the area were planning to join the Conclarton Carriage Caravan to London. After Madeline’s success at the Dumont Ball, her mother felt this was the perfect opportunity to secure one of the gentlemen’s attentions. Which was the reason for Madeline’s misgivings. She found none of them attractive. There was only one man who held her interest, and unfortunately, he was engaged.
As of now, she sensed that he enjoyed her company. If he knew the truth about her and her mother, that would change. Still, she hated keeping the truth from him.
