Page 42 of A Portrait of Love

The duchess blinked, looking surprised to hear she had a daughter. “Oh.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as Honey struggled to come up with something to say.

Thankfully, the maid appeared with a tea tray, setting it on the table in front of Honey.

“Will you pour, Miss Keyes?” the duchess asked. “I’m afraid I only have so much energy each day.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Plimpton tells me you wish to have several sessions where—” she frowned. “Well, I don’t know what you wish to do.”

“I just wish to get to know you a little and also make sketches. Milk? Sugar?”

“Neither, thank you.”

Honey gestured to the plate of delicate pastries, which the duchess waved away.

“I trust there will be no problem having the sessions here?” Her grace glanced vaguely around her, as if seeing her own room for the first time.

Honey was in the process of putting a few pastries on her plate and looked up.

“Not at all. I would like to make several sketches the way you will eventually be posed, which is something else we should discuss. This room would make a very lovely setting—do you envision this as the background for your portrait?”

“Plimpton wishes for a full-length portrait but I do not wish to be standing.”

Honey nibbled her pastry as she examined the sumptuous room, beautiful woman, and expensive, graceful furnishings. The duchess did look lovely draped across the blue velvet chaise longue with its gilt legs. And the room was undoubtedly her natural—and perhaps her only—milieu. It did not sound as if she left her chambers, even to dine.

A full-length horizontal portrait would be quite stunning and unusual.

“I believe we can contrive something that will satisfy you both,” Honey said, her mind already racing with possibilities.

“Plimpton says you shall be painting Lady Rebecca. Will you want the both of us here during these, er, sessions?” A plaintive note had entered the duchess’ soft voice.

Honey used the delicate, lace edged napkin to remove any crumbs from her fingers. “I have already arranged for sittings with your daughter—separately.”

The duchess sighed. “Yes, that would be best. Rebecca is rather restive and does not care to sit for long periods.” She gave Honey a fragile smile. “It might be better if you conducted some of your sessions with her in an outdoor environment. My daughter loves riding and so forth.”

Honey couldn’t help being grateful that Rebecca wasn’t there to hear the dismissive way her mother spoke about her.

As a girl, she’d always wished for a mother and now she realized they weren’t always the loving parents of her fantasies.

“Your grace?” It was the sour-looking servant. She gave Honey a narrow-eyed look before turning back to her mistress. “You know it’s time for your midday rest.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Stapleton. I am feeling a bit weary.” The duchess sighed, as if a strenuous activity awaited her. Why would she need a nap when all she did was lie around all day?

Wisely, she kept her wondering to herself.

Instead, she stood. “I shall leave you now. Shall we say tomorrow, the same time?”

The duchess looked at Stapleton, who pursed her lips and gave a grudging nod. “No longer than a half hour.”

Honey forced a smile. “Of course.”

The maid frog-marched her to the door and then shut it in her face.

Honey stood in the same position as less than thirty minutes earlier: staring at the duchess’s door.

She turned and began the long process of returning to her room.