Only, his laughter didn’t make her feel inferior, as had the painting master’s comments.
“I’m afraid, my lord, that even you are not capable of infusing either life or hope into my effort. I am only sorry that I’ve wasted the paint and the canvas.”
She couldn’t keep from smiling at him. How could any young lady resist such a handsome man when he gazed at her with twinkles of delight dancing in his eyes that just happened to be her favorite color of blue? In the bright and sunny room, they reminded her of the delphinium that grew in front of her father’s house in early spring.
“Your grandmother must arrange for some primary formal instruction.” Charley had not been aware of the countess’s approach. “It’s important that a refined young lady be able to show even the most basic ability where the finer arts are concerned.” She cleared her throat meaningfully. “Did you see Lady Felicity’s painting, Jules?”
“Not yet,” he said, moving away from Charley and examined the painting on her neighbor’s easel. “Lady Felicity never ceases to impress me with her talents,” he responded smoothly and then went on to compliment a few of the other ladies around them as well.
The other lords ambled along from painting to painting, and Lord Chaswick had stepped inside the circle to snack on one of the apples. Showing no reverence at all, he began tossing grapes in the direction of the viscount and Mr. Spencer, who didn’t allow a single one to fall to the floor. Mr. Peter Spencer kept a short distance away from their antics, not disapproving, but not participating either. Perhaps as a musician, he empathized with the painting master.
Charley, however, felt no sympathy for the distraught-looking Frenchman who’d lost all control of his ‘class’ for the afternoon.
In the melee, Lord Westerley had returned and touched his hand to the small of her back. “Meet me in the gallery in ten minutes. I have something I think you will appreciate.”
“My Lord, what do you think of mine?” asked a young lady whose name Charley couldn’t remember from a few easels over. He squeezed Charley’s arm and moved away.
What could he possibly have to show her? Should she be nervous?
She didn’t have time to contemplate any of that, however, when Lady Westerley stepped up to her painting again.
“Miss Jackson, I wondered if you’d like to invite your companion to join in the house party festivities. You did bring along a companion, unless I am mistaken?”
“Daisy?” The ‘offer’ rendered Charley momentarily speechless. Good heavens, if Charley—as an invited guest—felt out of place while negotiating the party, how much more so would her maid?
“It isn’t proper for a young woman your age to be on her own. When your father informed me he’d be leaving the party, I merely assumed that your companion would join you. It isn’t even necessary that she participate, only that that she be at your side in case you require assistance. And so that you never find yourself alone with any of the gentlemen guests.”
“Oh.” Charley hadn’t thought of any of this herself. Although it did give her one more reason to be angry with her father.
“And I’ve been meaning to give you this.” Charley didn’t realize immediately that the countess was handing her an envelope. Her name was written on the front, in her father’s handwriting. “He left it with Mr. Goulding.”
Rather than take ten minutes to say goodbye to his daughter, he left a note with the butler.
Even as Charley accepted it, her father’s betrayal—his abandonment of her—stung.
“If the woman you’ve brought along isn’t sufficient, I can make one of my own servants available to you. I’m certain that’s what your grandmother had in mind when she sent her along. It’s a shame she couldn’t join us herself. Ah, well. Lady Thornton keeps a busy schedule in London.”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” Charley doubted Daisy would want to join the festivities. Even so, she recanted, “I’ll ask her.”
Lady Westerley gave her a strange look but then blinked. “Very good. I look forward to meeting her at the evening meal.”
Did Lady Westerley suspect the strange arrangement Jules and she had made? It didn’t require a genius to realize that the countess didn’t exactly approve of Charley. Especially after being seated beside her and making questionable conversation at dinner.
The reminder only made Lord Westerley’s assertions that he would marry her seem all the more ludicrous. Charley squirmed under the countess’s scrutiny.
“I’m not sure she has something suitable to wear but perhaps she could wear one of my gowns.” Although Daisy was considerably more endowed in certain areas.
“I will send a maid to your chamber later this afternoon.” The countess gave a tight smile. “I knew your mother. Did you know that? She would have wanted you to know the proper English ways.”
Charley swallowed hard. Of course, Lady Westerley had known her mother, Lady Miranda. Was that why Lady Westerley’s daughters had been so quick to befriend her? Out of respect for her dead mother?
“Did you know her well?” Charley’s curiosity got the best of her. Her mother had given birth to her later in life. She would have been close in age to Jules’ mother.
Lady Westerley’s response was a vague smile. “We came out the same year. She created quite the scandal, going to Paris and then running away and marrying your father.” She sighed. “She and I corresponded for a while. Poor dear. I suppose we all are destined to make mistakes some time in our lives. Lord and Lady Thornton are most forgiving to welcome you back into their family.”
“My mother never quite took to America.” An understatement of considerable proportions. “She spoke of London often. And she never failed to act in a manner that was absolutely proper.” Did her father know her mother had written friends divulging that she considered her marriage a mistake?
“Her parents were quite disappointed”—the countess winced—“that she would ever leave England.”
