whose opinion I valued, liked and even admired him. When I had pointed out his lack of courtesy towards the ladies of my family, he was large-minded enough to take my reproof to heart and change his ways. And when I had said that I was glad to see him again earlier, it was no more and no less than the truth. As exasperating as he was, in an odd way he stimulated and amused me. While he had been away I had felt a certain bland sameness, as though my life lacked a sprinkle of salt and a splash of lemon juice.
I was pleased to think that the friendship between the two men meant that Miss Vincy and I need not be parted, and that I would be able to assist her in keeping her wayward husband in order. Sweet natured as she was, I could not help but think she might lack the necessary decisiveness.
However, I must attend to the first item on my agenda. I searched the drawing room for Lord Boring, who was nowhere to be seen. Nor, of course, was Charity.
I said to the room as a whole, “Miss Vincy was kind enough to allow me to see my portrait first, but she begs me to let you know that now I have seen it, it is on display in the library, and anyone who will is welcome to view it.”
As the group exclaimed and rose to go and see the picture, I said to Mr. Fredericks, “Perhaps you will fetch Miss Charity Winthrop and Lord Boring. I am sure they would be sorry to miss this opportunity to see it with the rest.”
“Oh, I doubt it,” said Mr. Fredericks. “Boring wouldn’t give two sticks for all the paintings in Somerset House. And as for that sister of yours—”
“Stepsister,” I corrected. “Whether they are or are not potential patrons of the arts, I am sure they would wish to join in the entertainment of the entire party.”
“Oh, very well, if you will have it so,” said Mr. Fredericks in a sour tone. “I suppose you merely want Boring to come and moon over your likeness. I am going, I am going,” he said hastily as he saw the look on my face, and exited the room.
It was true enough that I wanted to see Lord Boring’s reaction to the portrait, and in fact it was all I could have hoped. He seemed unaware of the aesthetic and technical skills involved in its creation and appeared to regard it as a simple tribute to my beauty; as being praiseworthy only because it mirrored my face. His gaze darted between image and reality, exclaiming at their similarity.
“How grateful an artist must be,” he observed to Miss Vincy, “to be presented with a subject so lovely.”
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Vincy. “It is truly a gift.”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Vincy in a sharp tone, “the subject ought to be grateful to have such a skilled painter, who can make the most of such charms as she is lucky enough to possess.”
“I entirely agree,” said I, trying not to laugh.
“I too,” said Charity, nodding her head vigorously. “I agree with Mrs. Vincy.” Charity was clearly annoyed at having her stroll with the Baron interrupted in order to view my portrait.
“In fact,” said Mrs. Fredericks, attempting to make peace, “it is a perfect match: an artist whose talent is crying out for a worthy subject and a subject whose beauty is crying out to be captured on canvas. And we have reason to be grateful the two have met.”
“Hmmph,” said Mrs. Vincy.
“Hmmph,” said Charity.
“Hmmph,” said Prudence, at a rare loss for the appropriate quotation which would link my image to Eternal Night and the Great Beyond.
Everyone else, however, seemed quite pleased. “It must be framed,” said Lord Boring at last. “I will ride over and have it done in York.”
“No,” said Mr. Fredericks. “I have arranged with Miss Vincy to take it to London.”
I turned and glared at Mr. Fredericks. Why should he so officiously insist on taking it to London, when the Baron and York would do quite as well, if not better? And when had he had the time to make this arrangement with Miss Vincy? No, he had merely determined that he wished to do so for some reason.
“London!” cried Mr. Vincy. “You’ve only just come from London. That’s a three-day ride.”
“I’ll allow a few weeks for the painting to dry and then I’ll be off,” said Mr.