“Spot of art, eh? Mind if we take a look?”
Onora snapped the paintbox closed.
The Colonel had crept up on her, accompanied by Dr. MacGregor.
“Not much to admire, I’m afraid. I’ve barely started.” She very much hoped they’d drift off again. Colonel Harris-Corbet was all very well in small doses, but she really wasn’t in the mood for him. The doctor was easier company, although he did have a habit of staring at one; a trait of his profession, she supposed.
“Been taking a few shots of the landscape,” the Colonel went on. “Picturesque, in an Egyptian-desert-sort-of way. I say! You wouldn’t mind if I put you in the foreground, would you? Artist at work, with theinspiration beyond. Nice bit of composition! I won’t disturb. You can carry on.”
She could hardly refuse. Opening the lid of her box only as far as was necessary, she extracted the ochre hue. She’d just begun again when she caught sight of Mr. Balfour striding across the sands. With mere moments to compose herself, she focused on washing her paper with a bold stretch of color.
Reaching them, the young man tipped his hat, greeting them all.
Mr. Balfour was dressed in his usual attire but, sometime since she’d last seen him, it appeared he’d shaved. “I heard about your aunt leaving. Unfortunate circumstances. I hope all’s well.” His expression was one of genuine concern.
The way he was crinkling his eyes in the sun’s glare gave some impression of how he might look, ten years from now. More mature and distinguished, though still with an air of being light of heart.
Having thanked him, Onora tried to appear engrossedin her painting. She was feeling too fragile to hide her emotions, tangled as they were.
“I came to see if you’d reconsider.” From the holster beneath his jacket, he brought out a handgun with a short barrel. “It’s one of the easiest to handle. No trouble to set up some targets.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I really have no interest.” Onora did her best to avoid eye-contact.
“A Webley, is it?” The Colonel stepped closer. “Nice piece. Easy to load, and reliable. Mind if I take a closer look?”
Somewhat reluctantly, to her mind, Mr. Balfour passed it over.
“What is this?” The distinctive trill of Madame Auvray carried over. “You’re showing us your weapon, Monsieur Balfour? I have some experience. May I handle it?”
That woman! Is no man safe?
She couldn’t say for sure what relationship the Frenchwoman enjoyed with Seton, but fear of the worst hung over her.
Taking the pistol, Madame Auvraystroked the barrel in a provocative manner. “I should like to see how it performs. The clip holds ten bullets, does it not? Now, what to use for a target…”
Before Mr. Balfour had a chance to intervene, she swung round. Raising her arm perfectly straight, she aimed toward the river, squeezed the trigger and fired a single shot.
As it rang out, there was a great squawking from the water, and several birds flapped in panic, taking to the sky—among them a gray heron.
With a firm hand upon the top of the gun, Mr. Balfour directed it groundward, then removed it from Madame Auvray’s grip. The look upon his face betrayed his thoughts, and they were clearly not charitable.
With a ringing laugh, she let it go without demur. “Most exhilarating! But do not be so fierce, Monsieur Balfour. I am a very good shot. Had I wanted to fell one of those silly birds, Iassure you I would have done so.”
Several scathing remarks were on the tip of Onora’s tongue, but she had no wish to draw attention to herself. It was gratifying enough that Mr. Balfour was obviously incensed.
“Harmless fun, eh!” To his credit, the Colonel also appeared somewhat uncomfortable. “Still, best be careful where one lets off a firearm, my dear. Might have been someone down by the reeds. Local chaps. Hard to see from here.”
The doctor also looked disapproving, though he said nothing.
“Causing a stir, as usual,chérie?” Monsieur Auvray had wandered over. “I come on an errand. Maria is making some alterations to your costume for tonight’s party and wishes to know if you will try it. Perhaps I shall stay and watch the dressing up, to give you my opinion on how you are looking.”
To Onora’s consternation, he glanced over, giving a saucy wink.
Mortified, she looked away.
These people! They were so…open, in how they expressed themselves, especially regarding intimate matters. Thinking of how Monsieur Auvray had interrupted her and Seton the night before, she didn’t know if it was possible to feel more humiliated. She was grateful, in some respects, but that he should find her in that compromising, crass position was too much to bear.
As to whatever went on between him and Seton and Madame Auvray, it was beyond her comprehension. Though she hated to admit it, a small part of her also rather envied the French couple. The husband was obviously besotted, and neither gave two hoots for what anyone else might think.
