His head turned as if he could sense he was being watched. Their eyes met from across the distance. Despite the glass and the fact that he was several yards away, the intensity of his gaze took Lucy’s breath away. She could not help but disengage and look down at the floor instead.
“Good heavens, did she even look at the mirror?” Lady Catherine Eastwick exclaimed unabashedly.
“She’s wearing a rag,” her friend sniggered. “It must be from several Seasons ago.”
“No. That one must be from when we were all children,” Lady Catherine insisted, smirking at Lucy openly.
“That makes sense, Lady Catherine!” a third woman agreed enthusiastically.
Lucy froze at the sound of the trio of women mocking her.
“It makes her look washed out,” the third woman muttered, feigning concern, but her eyes danced with mischief.
“Does she not know that she is at Redmoor?” Lady Catherine lamented. “She must have forgotten and dressed for some terrible book club.”
“Or a parish meeting,” the second one snorted.
Lucy felt shame, which was becoming a fixture in her life these days. She might have entered Redmoor Hall with her back straight and her shoulders pulled back, but now they had slumped.
A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, startling her.
“It is a lovely color, Lucy,” Victoria declared, her voice carrying from one end of the room to the other, to Lucy’s horror and relief.
Just the sound of her voice had the three ladies scurrying away.
Victoria squeezed Lucy’s arm comfortingly. “Ignore these hags. They can’t think for themselves. See if any one of them could actually talk like that without a companion.”
The Duchess of Redmoor clapped her hands together to draw everyone’s attention.
“Welcome to my studio, dear friends! Here, we will create. So, I want you to draw whatever you want. Express yourself. Of course, do avoid making it dull by playing it too safe.”
Lucy chose a seat and an easel in the corner. She wanted to hide, and she could not help but show it. Victoria sat beside her.
Many of the young ladies in attendance picked up paint to create elaborate, pretty scenes of hills and seashores. Of flowers and butterflies. Lucy chose a charcoal stick to work with. At that moment, she felt energy flow through her fingers, and her hand began to move over the blank canvas.
Before long, an image began to shape. She did not let her thoughts guide her, just her memories and dreams. She had drawn a man’s strong jaw, stray locks, and, of course, intense eyes.
Her hand had been swift and sure, but in the end, she faltered when she realized who she was drawing.
It was Daniel.
The likeness was uncanny.
She feared that someone would see her drawing, so she made some changes, changing the shape of his nose, then widening and darkening his eyes so that nobody would suspect they were blue.
“Oh, look at her,” Lady Catherine sneered. Again, she had every intention to be heard by as many people as possible. “Poor Lady Lucy. She is sketching an unrequited love, knowing she’d never have a proper suitor.”
“So pathetic,” her friend added. “She is pining for someone who would never offer for a woman like her.”
“So plain,” the third friend agreed as if on cue.
Not only was Lucy dismayed by the women’s meanness, but she was afraid that their words would reach Joshua. He would tighten his hold on her even more if he realized what she was trying to do.
Now, if Daniel found out that his near likeness, even though altered as determinedly as possible, was sketched by her, she would die of absolute humiliation.
Thinking that there were still hints of Daniel’s identity, she added more paint and made changes that would make the profile look like any random man’s.
“Oh no, she’s ruining it on purpose,” Lady Catherine drawled.
