Chapter One
Scottish Highlands, 1856
Dearest Faith,
I am writing to inform you that the painting, Odalisque Reclined, has been sold to a private collector. I am aware of the promise I made to you, but the stipend was too grand to ignore, especially if I’m to ever live beyond my commissions. Please accept my apologies and this monetary gift, as I believe it is what you aredue.
I hope you will forgive me.
Sincerely,
Donovan
Faith Sharpe stared at the letter in her hand, mouth agape, as a tremor went through her. This could not be happening. It was a jest, surely. A poorly conceived joke of some sort. Donovan had promised never to sell that particular piece, and she had believed him. He had sworn that it would only ever be used to illustrate his talent to prospective clients and that he would keep it in his possession forever.Cherish it for a lifetime.Those were the exact words he had used.
He couldn’t have sold it.
Faith crushed the letter in her fist and brought it to her pursed lips without thinking. This was, without a doubt, theworst thing that could ever happen to her. Particularly during breakfast.
“Faith?”
Looking up, she quickly remembered that she wasn’t alone. She was, in fact, completely surrounded by her family. Her elder sister, Hope, sat across the dining room table, her brow pinched together with concern. Faith dropped her hand to the edge of the timeworn wooden table. Everything in Lismore Hall was timeworn. It had been the generational home of the MacKinnon family for hundreds of years. That is, until Aunt Belle won it in a card game.
“Yes?” Faith croaked.
“Are you all right?”
Three other pairs of eyes landed on Faith. Her younger sister, Grace, their great-aunt, Lady Belle Smyth, and Hope’s husband, Graham MacKinnon, all stared at Faith with curiosity.
“Your cheeks are rather pale,” Grace said with a slight frown. “Has something happened?”
For a moment, Faith didn’t know how to answer. Of course she wasn’t all right, but she wasn’t about to admit it. She had always been a very private person, and she had never told anyone about the painting. Especially not her sisters.
Glancing around the table ladened with apple-and-honey tarts, sausages, puddings, and jams, she wondered what she could say that would distract everyone. Her brother-in-law shared the same concerned look as her sisters, but Aunt Belle gaze appeared keenly interested in the letter she was holding.
She could not tell them the truth. As much as she loved her family, Faith was not the kind of woman to reveal such personal things, even to those who were closest to her. Nor was she the type to panic. And even if she were, she certainly wouldn’t do so in a room full of people.
She needed to leave immediately.
Swallowing, she dropped her hand into her lap.
“Nothing has happened. I am quite well,” she lied as she stood up. “May I be excused?”
“My dear, what news have you received?” her aunt asked. Belle’s bejeweled hand rose and pointed to Faith’s fist. “Who has written you?”
Faith quickly tucked the crumpled letter into the folds of her canary-colored skirt.
“Ah, well, it’s from…” Faith stalled before spitting out the first name that came to mind. “Renee. It’s a letter from Renee Delaney.”
“Renee?” Grace repeated, her frown deepening. “Didn’t you just receive a letter from her yesterday?”
“Yes, I did, but this one is about a different matter,” Faith said quickly. “Renee’s brother is engaged.” A servant came up to push her chair in as she moved around it. “Evidently, the wedding is to take place this July.”
“Oh no,” Hope said, going to stand as well. “I’m so sorry, Faith. Are you sure you are all right?”
Guilt washed over Faith, hearing the concern in Hope’s voice. It wasn’t a lie, technically. Faithhadlearned that her former beau had proposed to Miss Molly Sheffield in yesterday’s letter, but she perhaps being a tiny bit manipulative when she framed it as the reason she was upset. She knew that her sisters still believed her to be infatuated with Mr. Delaney, but the truth was that at present, she couldn’t care less about him. Still, it was an acceptable excuse to try and be alone. Otherwise, she’d have to explain why there was a very large, very revealing painting of her being shipped to a private collector.
Heaven above, let it be on a ship to Australia.
