Robert felt a pang of guilt. His finances were such that he was more likely to be selling more portions of the collection, rather than adding to it. He smiled and murmured, “Now that I have inherited Brentwood, I should commission my portrait. However, I have yet tothink seriously of hiring a painter—so many other estate matters to deal with at present.” He paused, before adding, “And you, Miss Kendall? Has your likeness been captured by a talented artist? But, perhaps you prefer to wait until after you are married?” He smiled as a blush rose on her cheeks.
“I…that is, perhaps one day, Mr. Morton,” she murmured.
“Promise me you will not allow any artist to leave out your charming freckles. It would not be a true likeness without them and, therefore, not worthy of you.”
Charlotte’s hand flew to the side of her nose. “Oh. I wish I could rid myself of my freckles as easily as an artist might paint them out, Mr. Morton. Certainly, my sister keeps reminding me to always wear a bonnet to prevent them from growing more abundant.” She giggled. “But, I have long since resigned myself to them. I confess I even have a bit of affection for them.”
“As should any gentleman who truly admires you.”
At her wondering gaze up at him, Robert knew his flattery had hit its mark. After a moment, he smiled and pointed across the hall, breaking the mood.
“Come, let me show you this fine bust of an Italian lady. My parents brought it back from their last trip abroad.”
*
After a thoroughtour of Brentwood’s downstairs rooms, Robert led everyone upstairs to see the picture gallery.
“Ah. Our guests have arrived, I see,” he heard his brother’s voice say. He turned to see Frederick striding down the hall, and felt Charlotte pull her arm away from his. She was smiling happily at Frederick, and her eyes were bright. He felt a flash of jealousy. Was she showing excessive enthusiasm for his brother? No, just courtesy, most likely. Frederick had little to offer Miss Kendall and was thereforeno competition. Still, there was a friendly eagerness on her face he did not care for.
Frederick bowed to the party. “I would have been there to greet you as well upon your arrival, Miss Kendall, Lord and Lady Gillingham. But, I was under the impression you were expected at five o’clock. Isn’t that what you told me, Robert? I have been in my room, working on my sermon. I do apologize for not being present with my brother when you first came.”
Robert noted Frederick directed the apology to Miss Kendall alone.
“No, I am quite certain I informed you our guests were expected at four,” he said, a bit testily. “You surely just forgot—your head is so wrapped up in your sermon writing at present.”
He saw his brother frown a bit and open his mouth as though to argue, before shrugging. “It could be I misheard.” He smiled and nodded at Miss Kendall. “But, here you are, in any case, and we are most happy to have you.”
Again, though his comment was for the Gillinghams, too, Frederick’s eyes were solely on Miss Kendall, Robert noted.
“We were just going to the picture gallery,” Charlotte said. “I was asking your brother when his own portrait will be added to it.” She moved a few steps closer to Frederick, smiling warmly.
“Soon enough, I expect. What do you say, Brother? Shall you hire Sir Thomas Lawrence? He is quite the popular artist among the ton, I have heard—though his fees are a bit dear. Still, since you will be preserved for all eternity, you must pick only the best.”
Robert gave a tight laugh and moved to join the two. He gently touched Charlotte’s elbow to pull her attention away from his brother. “Indeed, Frederick, as I was saying to our guests, I am not ready to sit for my portrait quite yet. But, in due time, I shall join the legions of ancestors who stare down upon us from on high. Let us go there now and see them, shall we, Miss Kendall?”
To his great satisfaction, Robert watched Lady Gillingham stepforward to engage Frederick in conversation, allowing him to swiftly steer Charlotte toward the picture gallery.
“So, you are to give your first sermon, Mr. Morton. How eager you must be,” he heard Dorothea say. “We are in no less anticipation of the great event, let me assure you. Do tell me, on what biblical verse will you speak?”
Robert knew his brother would be unable to follow him and Charlotte without appearing rude to Lady Gillingham. Perfect. He wanted to have a moment or two, at least, alone with her. Entering the gallery, he guided her straight to the portrait of his father. A well-executed work of art, Robert had always thought it a fine likeness, but knowing what he now did of his father’s weakness for gambling and reckless spending, he could hardly look at it without abhorrence.
Charlotte considered the work silently before saying, “I can see where you and your brother inherited your fine features, Mr. Morton.” She gave a mischievous smile, her eyes crinkled in amusement. “How old was your father when this was painted? You surely would wish to be set down forever while you are…still so young and vital—forgive my boldness.”
Robert leaned in close and gently took her gloved hand, stroking it gently. He whispered, “I shall take it under advisement, my dear Miss Kendall. But, I confess, I am of a mind to wait until I marry, so that my wife and I may be painted together.” He stared deeply into her gray eyes. “I hope—Idearlyhope, I shall not have much longer to wait to begin the commission.”
He enjoyed seeing the flush that overcame her as she dropped her gaze. Her tongue gently ran over her full lips. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her right then. But, he could not afford to frighten her with such a bold move. Still, her reaction added to his confidence of her growing fondness toward him. Oh, it was all going very well, indeed. Should things continue as they were, he might well secure her affections within the week.
*
After a thoroughtour of the gardens, which were looking exceptionally good this summer—despite having let one of the gardeners go due to budget constraints—it was nearly six o’clock, so Robert and Frederick escorted their guests directly to the dining room.
Robert had gone over the menu in painstaking detail with his housekeeper, Mrs. Syme, and spared little expense. He had decided that this meal should not be deemed as a more casual family dinner, but would clearly display all the elegance of a more formal dinner party: clear beef broth, followed by steamed sole, three platters of vegetables (which were grown in his own garden, he proudly proclaimed), then beef steaks, veal, and peach fritters. Thank heavens, he had just received the money from the auction of the Little Shepherdess painting, which allowed him to make a few small payments toward his debts and have enough to set aside and to restock the wine cellar and kitchen larder. Above all, he knew he must continue to project the illusion of wealth.
The conversation flowed easily during the meal with Robert making sure to spread his attention evenly between the Gillinghams and Miss Kendall. He did note, with minor irritation, that when he turned his attention to Lord or Lady Gillingham, Frederick took every opportunity to converse with Miss Kendall. But then, Robert reflected, he himself could not monopolize her company throughout dinner without appearing rude to her sister and brother-in-law, and it would not do to have her sit mute. Therefore, Frederick was of use to balance the discourse.
When at last the nuts, fruits, and sweetmeats were cleared away, Robert spoke. “If our dear mama were still with us, she would surely invite you ladies to join her in the salon, while we men enjoyed some brandy and talk. But, I should think it highly impolite to send you on your way alone, so let us all go in together, shall we?”
He rose, intending to offer Miss Kendall his arm but was surprised to see Frederick do so first. He knew his brother was just being courteous, but he briefly wished he had sat Frederick across the table from Miss Kendall, rather than so conveniently on her left. He turned to see Lady Gillingham’s lips pressed firmly together. She clearly did not care for Frederick’s act, either.
