But he’d been the perfect gentleman.
Today, he’d accompanied her to an art show put on by the Countess of Devonshire, who was an avid art collector. Her son had just returned from his tour of the Continent with several important pieces, including a Caravaggio and a striking Rubens that depicted Venus in all her nude glory.
“It seems inappropriate for young ladies to see art like this,” Daniel said, his posture tight as he looked around.
“It is fine art,” Louisa pointed out. “The Venus is…that is, if it makes you uncomfortable, I’m also very interested in theGainsborough paintings Lady Devonshire has collected and we can go look at those, but please know, Your Grace, that I am not so very young, and I am in fact in possession of a female body and know what they look like in the nude.”
Daniel frowned at that. “Yes, of course.” He gestured at the Caravaggio. “There is something… raw about this painting, too, though.”
Louisa looked at it. Daniel had saidrawlike it was a bad thing. The painting was of a young man, perhaps one barely past being a teenager, holding a basket of fruit. He wore an open white shirt that was falling off, such that it revealed a nude shoulder and a muscular arm. The man’s lips were parted in a way that Louisa found sensual. Like perhaps he had some sexual desire for the viewer, or for the man painting him.
Louisa may not have had much physical experience herself, but she understood desire.
Still, she said, “Perhaps we should move on.”
Daniel seemed relieved to be leaving the presence of Lady Devonshire’s racy new paintings and into the safer world of her collection of portraits. One of the Gainsborough portraits was of the Dowager Duchess of Swynford, back in her youth, perhaps immediately after her wedding. In it, she wore a pink gown under a heavy-looking fur-lined coat and had her hair teased up into an elaborate powdered coiffure with feathers decorating it. Louisa found it curious that the portrait was here and not in Swynford’s house, but it was also widely known that Lady Devonshire loved to collect Gainsborough portraits, and that she and the Dowager were cousins.
“This is an impressive collection,” Daniel said to Lady Devonshire, who’d been hovering as they perused the portraits.
“Thank you, Your Grace. And Lady Louisa, you are an appreciator of art. What did you think of what my son brought back from the Continent.”
“He has a fine eye, my lady,” Louisa said. She looked down the corridor and spotted a marble statue. “Oh, is that the Apollo?”
“It is! Would you like a closer look?”
“Lord Devonshire has such exquisite taste,” Louisa said, mostly to Daniel. He seemed unconvinced.
“This man is naked,” Daniel said.
“He is nearly two-thousand years old,” Lady Devonshire said. “My son bought him in Greece. Is he not spectacular?”
Daniel looked wary. “Should this be on display with all these young ladies about?” He looked around at the small gathering of women who had come to appreciate Lady Devonshire’s collection. “It seems questionably appropriate—”
“Oh, I will try to steer the unmarried ladies from the sight of young Apollo’s manhood, but I know Louisa to be a great appreciator of art and mature enough not to swoon at the hubris of this statue.”
Louisa laughed. “Thank you, my lady.”
“It just seems—”
But Daniel was cut off by the arrival of Adele, the Duchess of Swynford, and Grace, the Countess of Caernarfon. They walked in, arm-in-arm. Daniel must have recognize them as Louisa’s friends, because he muttered something that sounded like, “Oh, thank god,” and then smiled at the new arrivals.
He looked at his pocket watch. “I am afraid I have an appointment with my man of business and must depart. But I’dhate to deprive Louisa of her time spent with fine art. Can you ladies see to it that she makes it home?”
“Of course,” said Adele. “There is plenty of room in our carriage. She can ride home with me, Your Grace.”
“Then I leave her in your capable hands.” He turned toward Louisa. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “When shall I see you next, my love?”
“The opera tomorrow night. You agreed.”
“Indeed I did. Mozart, I believe.” His tone indicated she’d asked him to eat rotten fish, and he was steeling himself for it.
“Yes,” she said. “Le Nozze di Figaro.”
Daniel nodded, albeit without much enthusiasm. “Then until tomorrow, my lady.” He bowed, gave Lady Devonshire a cursory bow, and then departed.
“Did he leave…hastily?” Louisa asked her friends.
“A bit,” said Grace.
