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Nala chose that moment to pad over to Mr. Westbrook and nuzzle his palm.

Giving the dog a good-natured grin, he patted her enormous head.

“Nala’s greeting was a trifle more exuberant than either I or Miss Fairfax anticipated, my lord. I’m flattered, in truth.”

Beatrice liked Mr. Westbrook all the more for defending her pet.

“That still doesn’t explain how you and my niece both came to be rolling around on the ground, Lord Cassius.”

LordCassius?

Uncle had failed to mention that important detail.

And he and Beatrice were hardly rolling around.

Well, she had rolled—twice, in fact. The first was from the momentum of her fall and the second was to ensure the gown was good and stained. She’d even pressed her bum, shoulders, and knees into the ground as she turned to insure the latter.

“Your niece feared for my safety and in her haste to reach her pet, she slipped.” Lord Cassius gave her feet a pointed look. “Satin slippers upon grass are much as skates upon ice.”

As Beatrice had never ice-skated or worn satin slippers outdoors before, she had no way of knowing if that was actually true. And Uncle could only blame himself for directing her to wear the slippers.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t regret the unanticipated implementation and success of her scheme, even if she hadn’t initiated it.

In succession, Uncle Cedric glowered at her, Nala, the neatly arranged art supplies, Teddy quietly observing the ordeal, and finally at Beatrice once more.

It was quite telling that he didn’t direct his ire toward Lord Cassius Westbrook.

“We’ll need to reschedule the portrait session, I suppose,” Uncle Cedric conceded with as much enthusiasm as a person facing a tooth pulling or a carbuncle lancing. He gave a brisk shake of his head. “Not outside next time. I don’t want another frock destroyed by her clumsiness.”

Beatrice was careful to keep her expression benign, but she didn’t miss Lord Cassius’s raven eyebrow flying high on his forehead at Uncle Cedric’s snide remark. A second later, he schooled his expression, but censure flashed in his beautiful blue eyes, the color of the ocean at twilight.

Uncle considered Lord Cassius, a speculative gleam in his cold, gray eyes. “Have you a space in your studio?”

Oh, bother.

She hadn’t considered that.

How could she have the dogs ruin the project if they weren’t with her?

“I do, or I should say, I can arrange to have.” Lord Cassius angled his head, his astute gaze taking in Uncle Cedric. “Wouldn’t you rather have Miss Fairfax painted in familiar surroundings?”

Beatrice had the distinct impression he saw beyond her uncle’s public façade.

“No, I believe a neutral environment is more suitable. Less chance of another disaster.”

Or so he thinks.

Giving another decisive nod, Uncle veered his attention to Millborn. “You’ll chaperone Beatrice during the sittings. See that another gown is ordered. I’ll pay twice the normal fees if it’s finished by next week.”

He didn’t even trust her to select another gown.

“As you wish, my lord.” The elderly servant folded her hands. Millborn didn’t dare say anything else. She’d never once crossed Uncle Cedric during the many years she’d been assigned to tend to Beatrice.

He paid her well for her compliance and biddableness, but what was the aged servant to do?

Defy him and get tossed to the curb?

“Not green this time. It makes her look common…like a wood nymph or sprite. She needs to appear sophisticated and noble.” Uncle Cedric raked a critical gaze over Beatrice. “Coral or ivory, I think.”