Seeing Lady Garmoyle about to squish the pretty insect idea, Amelia clapped her hands together. “What a lovely idea, and you would make such a lovely butterfly.”
Lady Garmoyle gave her a pitying look. “Now what would you know of butterfly costumes?”
Her mother was quick to respond. “Amelia is an artist. She even exhibited at the London Academy of Artists just this past season. If anyone knows what would make a pretty butterfly, it is she.”
Lady Garmoyle had the sense not to comment and simply inclined her head.
For once, Amelia was pleased by having had the opportunity to exhibit, if not for the honor than to be able to keep the opinionated lady from further judgements. “Granted, I did not exhibit any paintings of butterflies, but I have completed a few.”
“Oh, would you advise me then on my costume?” Lady Rose looked at her with such hope in her eyes that she couldn’t decline.
“Of course. I would be happy to be of assistance.”
Lady Rose turned to her mother. “I do believe I’m going to enjoy this masquerade ball.”
As the conversation turned to the weather as it always did this year, she contemplated Sommerset’s reasoning for having her present when he called. He barely paid her attention, which was well done of him, but she could not discern what had been so important that he used the favor of her presence to bargain for his obedience while in the sitting the day before. Even at the thought, she yearned to leave for her studio. With one sketch of him, she could now possibly do others, deciding on the perfect pose for her oils when they arrived.
As the women rose to leave, she promised Lady Rose that she would attempt a drawing so the younger woman could pursue her costume creation. Lady Rose had an innocence and pleasantness about her that made her enjoyable company and her youthfulness gave her an eagerness in life. Though only a few years older, Amelia envied that. Her muse was a harsh taskmaster and demanded serious study. Even more so now that she had a very real deadline for marriage. Unless…
“I suppose I will have to determine my costume now and set to work on it immediately. I had not expected to be busy on such a project immediately upon arriving.” Lady Garmoyle gave a heavy sigh as if she were being imposed upon.
Lady Rose’s face fell, and Amelia couldn’t hold her tongue. Did the woman not see how she dampened everyone’s spirits, or did she not care? “I think your idea of Lady MacBeth is quite unique. You would make a very majestic queen.”
Immediately, Lady Garmoyle’s demeanor changed. “Do you think so? Yes, I imagine I would. I believe that is what I will be. As a queen, I would be the highest-ranking person at the ball.”
Amelia’s mother looked askance at the woman, but didn’t bother to correct her assumption that dressing like a fictional queen would give her additional societal privileges.
Lady Rose smiled widely, her excitement once again showing. “That’s splendid. We really should finish our calls so that we can get started.”
As the women exited the room, Lady Amelia held in her laugh until the front door closed and she was safely back in the drawing room. But the minute her mother rolled her eyes, she gave her laughter free rein.
Her mother joined her before she raised her brows. “Lady MacBeth?”
She dropped into the chair that Lady Macbeth had just vacated and gave a haughty frown to mimic Lady Garmoyle. “I do believe I shall be a queen so everyone may bow to me.”
Laughter followed her statement as her mother shook her head. When she gained control of herself, she wagged a finger at her. “Amelia, you do that so very well.”
She continued her haughty demeanor. “But of course. I am, after all, a well-trained actor. Just ask the lovely Joanna. In fact, I know everything about everything and so no one could possibly know as much as I about a butterfly costume. How plebeian.” She tried to continue her mimic, but she burst into laughter again.
“We really mustn’t.” Her mother wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.
She shrugged one shoulder. “It can be our secret. What harm if no one knows?” She sobered. It was her same reasoning for having Sommerset privately pose for her.
Her mother contemplated her statement. “Perhaps, but it’s best we refrain or it would be far too easy to do so in public. That young woman, widow or not, will soon push Lucinda’s patience. Lady Rose is such a sweet young lady. I cannot see how these two are such friends.”
“I think their family makes friends of those opposite of themselves. Look at Lord Harewood and Lord Sommerset. One is not only dark in looks, but also quite stiff and arrogant. While his good friend is light and more approachable as well as having a warm temperament.” She simply couldn’t imagine Harewood teasing a woman or traveling through the rain for her.
“Lord Harewood? Did you not find him pleasant today?”
She silently groaned. She should have never made her observation out loud. “I found him as I always do. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Her mother lifted her embroidery loop, a clear indication she would be getting back to her work. “And what of Lord Sommerset. This is the second call he has bestowed upon you. I would say that reveals an interest.”
She waved her mother’s comment aside. “Hardly. The first time, as I informed you, was to request my expertise. This time he was simply fulfilling his duty to be dragged about Bedford as the newest guest and introduced to all. I pity him, actually.”
Her mother looked at her at that. “Pity him? The man is clearly going to cause a stir. I haven’t figured out what it is, but there is something in his appearance that is quite likeable. Were you ever able to create a sketch from your memory of him?”
She hated lying to her mother, but too much was at stake. “I did start one. Now, that I’ve seen him again, I may go back and see if I can add to it. Of course, that will have to wait.” She rose. “First, I must finish my letter to Joanna before any more of our neighbors come to call.”
