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Orris glanced down at her dress. It was indeed the same color as the prior day, yet she had chosen a… different one. One that enhanced her physical attributes. Or so said her lady’s maid. “I thought it a great likeness, is it not? I spilled something on my dress yesterday. It will take time to clean,” Orris lied. She had not known the painter would be so handsome. While she could not become engaged to someone outside of acceptable members of society, she did like the way he looked at her. The way he had moved her braid into position. The way he did not hesitate to move into her space. Commanding her attention.

A warning fired off in her mind. She had gotten carried away with Thomas. And as such, the laws of society had conspired to rip them apart. She would not make the same mistake. Not with the reminders.

“Very well,” Mama said after a few moments of what appeared to be skepticism etched in her brow eased. “I believe this one more handsome than the first. Come along, family. We must make haste if he is to finish before my ball.” Mama swept from the parlor.

Everyone was in various states of their meal. Orris glanced around and caught the mounting frustration. Myrtle and Samuel left first, immediately after Myrtle had put down whatever book she had been reading. Likely a mystery. While she loved Sherlock Holmes for all his folly, she enjoyed several authors and their works.

Violetta focused on lessons of every kind related to presiding over an English household. She busied herself with learning titles and histories for every eligible gentleman.

Then there was Orris. Aside from riding horses, what did she have? She knew the answer. She had already resigned herself to being the last to marry, if at all. Was there a life in England if unmarried? Spinsters seemed something to be avoided. Her own sister had lied about her age to avoid such an assignment to her person.

Perhaps she could go back to Texas. There were more family members there. It would be years from now she could go, though, unless she could do something scandalous enough to be sent away. Could she? Do something so tawdry her mother would have no choice in the matter? Would Orris risk such an endeavor?

“Orris Gray! We are waiting for you!” Violetta screeched from the other room.

She had been staring out of the window and lost herself entirely as she considered a most provocative answer to her woes.

When she entered, she found everyone in their poses, and Mr. Fain with his canvas erected, the scent of linseed oil heavy in the air. The butler had opened one of the doors in the ballroom to allow fresh air inside. The added benefit had been cooling the room off since it promised to be an unseasonably warm day. There had been so little rain.

“Truly, Sister, there is no need to shout. I apologize for the delay. I merely needed a morsel more. I found myself—”

“Yes, Orris. All is well,” Violetta instructed, waving elegant fingers to the end of the row.

Orris bit back what she was thinking, to tell Violetta to go to the Devil, since arguing in front of a houseguest would drive her mother to fits.

Mama stood once she was in her place. Glancing around at each of them, from Myrtle and Samuel on the end, and next to them was Gladys, then Violetta, and finally Orris, she smiled. Not as if laughing, but instead with the glimmer of pride in her eyes.

“If your father could see this family, he would be filled with joy. I know it has not been… Our transition into society did not lack trouble. But here we are. I am so very happy for our genuine prosperity.” A tear ran the length of Mama’s cheek.

Orris stepped forward and took one of her hands in hers. “It is all due to you, Mama. Thank you for your guidance.”

How could she even consider bringing shame to her mother? A spike of guilt ran through Orris’s chest, given only moments prior, she had been considering heinous acts, and so selfishly.

If she had to be a spinster, then she would. There were worse things, Orris knew.

“Yes, thank you, Mama,” Violetta said. She annoyed Orris, but she was kind at heart.

“I could not have married into a better family,” Samuel said. He was so handsome. Myrtle ran a hand over her husband’s cheek.

“Thank you, Aunt Seraphine,” Gladys said.

When they’d resumed their positions with Mama seated in the chair in the center, Orris noticed Mr. Fain.

He had witnessed their most tender moment, but he had not looked away. Instead, he stared on in what looked to Orris as disbelief.

“We are ready, Mr. Fain,” Mama said, settling into her seat.

He blinked a few times before a realization seemed to come over him. “Yes.” He smiled. He did not wear a jacket, and his white shirt sleeves were turned up, exposing the veins and muscles of his arms and chest. “Certainly, Mrs. Gray.”

Orris watched as he picked up a painter’s palette and began to work on their likenesses. She wanted to see how they looked through his eyes. How she looked in his eyes.

What a silly notion. However silly, she wondered…

*

“I am exhausted. Mama, may I skip the promenade this afternoon? After all that standing, I cannot imagine another minute on my feet,” Orris said. In truth, she wanted to go riding. Her mother and sister never wanted to take the horses out.

“I suppose. I had hoped to meet with the Smythes to discuss a dinner. They have two sons and I’d wanted to introduce you and Violetta.” Mama ran a hand over Orris’s hair. There was likely a braid slipping free of its confines—a halo of diamond stars her mother had had commissioned for the painting.