“No sarcophagus?” she asked.
“Definitely not, and hardly space to move.”
“Is your sister here?” Ariana asked.
“She wouldn’t be kept away, but the Weathersteds didn’t care for it, so I brought her. Ah, over there.”
Being tall gave Ariana easy sight of Lady Phyllis with two other young ladies, now with Norris in attendance. Ariana glanced at Kynaston, but couldn’t see if there was an additional layer of grimness. Soon she was going to have to push the matter of Norris and Phyllis. Someone should have a happy ending.
“We should probably move through the house,” he said, reminding her of the matter in hand.
“But not looking like an amorous couple,” she said.
“Definitely not. Mere acquaintances.”
It hurt, but she smiled. Ariana turned to her mother, but saw her chatting cheerfully to a small group, so she moved on with Kynaston, Ethel rather awkwardly behind. They must make an impressively tall trio and impossible to miss. People continuously came to assure Ariana that they’d always known the cartoon to be a scurrilous lie, and she could comment that her companion, Miss Burgis, had been with her all the time.
Perhaps Ethel, with her stalwart build in fashionable dark red silk, was even more of a curiosity than Ariana. A few men even set up a conversation with her, to which she responded with composure. Ariana remembered Ethel indicating that she wouldn’t mind marrying. May she have her chance.
Then Ariana remembered that this had once been Kynaston’s home. His happy home with his lovely wife. She paused to ask, “Do you mind being here again?”
He looked around at the Oriental furniture and weapons, and the grotesque masks on the wall. “It’s so different that any ghosts have fled.”
“I’m glad.” Perhaps in time the portraits of Seraphina that Lady Cawle had preserved would be valued.
They didn’t go down into the cellars, but they stood for a while in the corridor nearby so that those emerging could give their shocked assurances.
“Not that there aren’t some pieces down there which might incite others to unfortunate behavior,” said Lord Liverpool.
“There are?” Ariana said, raising a brow at Kynaston.
“I thought it best not to mention them, Lady Ariana. They weren’t uncovered when we went down there last week.”
“For which you should be grateful,” Liverpool said.
“Should I?” Ariana murmured, when the prime minister had moved on. “They sound educational.”
“‘Inciting’ was the word. Behave.”
“I’m giddy with relief. It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?”
“Probably. That couple over there—the Duke and Duchess of Belcraven. Quite a coup, and now they’re joined by the Yeovils, and all apparently on good terms with Peake. I wonder how he managed that. They’re going down to the cellars. With new images out tomorrow of such fashionable elites in the cellars—without the more scandalous pieces, we hope—the drawing of us will be seen to be a lie. Where next?”
“The library,” Ariana said.
It held memories of him nursing his shock at seeing the mummy portrait, and any place reminiscent of him would always have importance to her, but she found it changed. The packing cases were gone and many of the shelves now held books. Ariana would have liked to explore, but instead must be seen and be assured again and again that no one had ever truly believed that picture.
A number of people were clustered around a table, so she led the way there. Some Oriental prints were on display beneath glass. They were almost a rebuke to the artist who’d produced that clumsy image of her and Kynaston. There was nothing lewd about them, for the men and women were in rooms and gardens and fully clothed in rich, brightly colored clothing. Yet something about the curves of their bodies, the angle of their heads, and the gestures of their pale hands spoke of desire. What they talked of and planned was probably crude, but at the moment they were simply beautiful.
“I would love to own such pictures,” she murmured.
“I suspect they are high art and quite rare.”
“Even so. Why do people choose crudeness over this?”
“Low tastes? We should move on, perhaps up to the drawing room?”
Ariana left the table reluctantly. She would return to look her fill, and she’d ask Peake where she might find something similar, but would that be wise? Already she was imagining being with Kynaston in a similar way, perhaps walking in a garden together, heads close, hands touching a sleeve or a shoulder.
