How could she not have known of his marriage and his wife’s death? Because she’d never been interested in gossip unless it was millennia old. In a sense she had indeed locked herself away in a tower, safe from hurt.
The death of Princess Charlotte had afflicted everyone. She herself had been spurred to drive Norris toward the altar, but she’d never thought that “filling his nursery” would involve putting her brother’s wife at risk. It was the way of things, and most womensurvived. If not, the death of the princess wouldn’t have hit so hard. Everyone had taken a healthy birth for granted. Babies died too often, as did young children, but mothers much more rarely. The queen had given birth to many children.
Then Lady Cawle came in. “I have only just been informed that you’re here, gel, and I can see why. If you had to dress in men’s clothing, could you not have done it with more panache?”
Ariana laughed. “I don’t see how. The greatcoat did cover the worst of it.”
“Come to my boudoir.”
Walking across the hall and up the stairs, Ariana did feel exposed and ridiculous, but she was soon in the elegant room. Lady Cawle settled onto a sofa and said, “Tell me your side of the story.”
It didn’t take long.
“Mr. Peake’s idea is good,” Lady Cawle said, “and I will attend. The idea of a new print is also good. More than one. A pity the Regent has returned to Brighton.”
“I thought he was fixed there in mourning.”
“He was in Town yesterday and gathered his Privy Council today, but has already left.”
“He wouldn’t wish to attend any social event.”
“Probably not,” Lady Cawle said, but it was clear she would have made the attempt. “It must be a glittering affair surrounded by complete propriety.”
Ariana had to ask. “Kynaston said I’m generally admired.”
“Why are you surprised?”
“Because I’m accustomed to thinking of myself as a freak.”
“Folly. You are distinctive, but that is no bad thing,as you see.” Lady Cawle was referring to herself. “You are a handsome woman, Ariana, with grace and poise.”
“He said beautiful,” Ariana said.
She was still cradling that to her heart, despite her sadness. Not handsome—beautiful. And perhaps he loved her—and even desired her despite his vow. Heavens, she had her tragic love!
She’d much rather not.
“Did he?” Lady Cawle said. “He’s right, of course.”
Ariana had to recollect the conversation. “He also told me about his wife.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I’ve never been interested in gossip.”
“It was rather more than gossip, gel. He and Seraphina were a celebrated couple, celebrated for their looks, charm, and wealth. They were viewed as favored by the gods, which made such an end a particularly shocking tragedy.”
“Like Princess Charlotte.”
“Quite. If I’d had any expectation, I would have never urged him to return, but it seemed a reasonable excuse. His estates were being neglected, as was Phyllis. She was reaching an age where she needed her brother’s attention.”
“Seraphina? That sounds like a foreign name.”
“Italian. She was the daughter of a musician. Not a suitable match, though in fact the family is of the Umbrian nobility. Very lovely, but also a truly kind and charming young lady. They shared a love of music. They would perform together. Their voices were perfectly matched.”
Ariana suddenly had a thought. “Was she a little dark of complexion, with brown eyes?”
“Yes. Not unusual for Italy, though her hair was agolden brown. I have a small portrait of her.” Lady Cawle rose and went to a drawer to take out a painting. “I have others. After Seraphina’s death, Kynaston took her body to her family in Italy. I thought that on his return he might destroy all remembrances of her, so I gathered them to keep them safe. He didn’t return at all until I pressured him to.”
