Rachel slumped to her bedside, depressed. “I…I don’t know.”
***
The dreaded night had come for the reveal of the portrait and the announcement of her marriage in the next five days. Clad in a gorgeous peacock-blue gown, embellished with delicate lace and silken ribbons, another creation of the Modiste Galilea, Rachel tried to keep a smile on her face. Though to anyone who looked closely, it was a bit brittle, and her hand was clenched around the champagne glass a bit too tightly.
With her arm looped with Strathmore’s, Rachel felt as if she were a colored ornamentation on his side. People she did not know came and gave them their congratulations and best wishes, but through the polite words, she heard snide undertones of hypocrisy and jealousy.
If only you knew the truth about this arrangement and this Lord, you too would want to run to the hills.
Her mother, looking smugly pleased, called the gathering to a quiet. “Thank you all for coming and celebrating the engagement of my dear daughter, Rachel, to the upstanding Lord Strathmore. To celebrate this occasion, we have made a special memento that I believe will stand to the end of time.”
She then stepped away from the covered portrait and nodded for a footman to lift the cover away, and a hush fell over the room. The glass in Rachel’s hand nearly slipped from her grasp. She had not imagined that William had done so much.
The portrait of her was stunning. Her hair curled over a shoulder while her face was tilted up and her chin elevated. The coloring of her skin was as if he had mixed alabaster with moonbeams and painted the mystical hue in, and the blue of her eyes shone like beacons.
For a moment, Rachel wondered if she looked like that, but her concerns began to flitter away when eyes began to turn to her before flickering to the painting. Even Strathmore looked impressed, and he smiled widely. “And now we have two of you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith, you have done a wonderful job,” her mother praised.
Shocked that William was in the ballroom and she had not seen him, Rachel looked around to see him step bedside her mother, and her mouth dropped. Instead of his usual eccentric colored and baggy clothes, William wore sterling white breeches and dark jacket and boots with an impeccably tied neck cloth.
Are those clothes even his? Why have I never seen him dressed like this before?
Belatedly, she realized that they were clapping for William and while he bore it graciously, she knew he did not care for it. Rachel broke from Strathmore’s grasp and went to her mother’s side but spoke to William instead of her parent.
“Mr. Smith, I was not aware that…” she turned to the portrait while awe turned her voice into a hush, “…that you did this. It is stunning.”
“From an artist’s perspective, I think I have done a poor representation of you,” William said self-deprecatingly.
“Well, I disagree,” Rachel said. “I think you did the best-even better than I look.”
“Stop doubting yourself,” Lady Mary castigated her. “It’s perfect. Now, Mr. Smith, shall we settle your payment this night or on the morrow?”
“I would prefer that you hold on the payment for a while, Your Grace,” William said. “If you do not mind, I would like to do another portrait of her.”
For once, Lady Mary looked unsure. Rachel knew her parents must have thought it was a finished deal when he’d delivered the painting, and now that he was asking for more, she felt out of sorts.
“I suppose…” Lady Mary said, hamstrung as she could not flat-out refuse the man with so many people around them.
“And until then, all I ask is for a dance with Lady Hampton,” William asked.
Now, Rachel knew William had put her mother in a bind. She could not outright refuse him in front of the other guests. Lady Mary’s mouth thinned, but she nodded curtly. “You may.”
William bowed, “May I have this dance, My Lady?”
“Yes,” Rachel said, having eyes only for him as they moved to the dance floor.
She could feel eyes on them, but that did not matter. The only thing that did was the moment she went into his arms. As soon as she did, the room around them faded. It was a dream, and Rachel did not want the dance to end. If only she were free to be with William the way she wanted to, then all would be right.
Rachel did not know how long they danced, five minutes or an eternity, for she lost count of time. Her eyes never parted from his, and not a word slipped from her lips. Just before the end, he swung her into a speedy turn, and when she came back, their sudden closeness made her head spin a little.
As did the words he murmured into her ear, “Your loveliness takes my breath away.”
They parted, and he bowed while she curtsied. “Thank you for a wonderful dance, Mr. Smith.”
For a moment, she felt as if her tilted world had been steadied and that everything would be right. But then, her eyes landed on a scowling Lord Strathmore, and she felt lopsided again.
From that night when he had tried to kiss her, Rachel had not figured out how to tell her parents she was not going to marry the Lord, and now, she only had a few more days. She diverted to the punch table for a drink before going back to Strathmore.
