A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,47

wait for the stunned woman to comply before leading her toward the far wall—away from staring eyes, to where a settee had been placed across from the painting in question. “Why don’t you have a seat, ma’am?”

The old lady’s body trembled as she lowered herself onto the divan.

Just then the door swung open and Honey glanced up to see the duke entering. He smiled coolly at his guests, who were milling in a tight group.

As far as she could see, his ducal dignity was unimpaired by the scene they had all just overheard.

“Lady Rosalind,” he said, turning the not insubstantial force of his personality on the pretty young girl. “Will you entertain us with some music?” He gestured toward the doors that had been opened between the big drawing room and adjacent music room.

Before the petite, delicate blonde could open her pretty, bow-shaped lips her mama stepped forward. “She would be delighted, your grace.”

The guests moved toward the music area and the Duke of Plimpton looked toward where Honey waited beside his mother.

The dowager immediately stood and gave Honey a brave smile. “Will you accompany me to the music room, Miss Keyes? Lady Rosalind’s performance on the piano is not to be missed.”

***

The duke had been wise to insist on music. By the time Lady Rosalind had played three songs, followed by two other young ladies, the atmosphere had relaxed, if not returned to normal.

Card tables had been set up in the drawing room and tea arrived while they split into groups.

Honey found herself paired with a local squire, playing whist against the dowager and the squire’s wife.

When the clock struck midnight, the party broke up.

It was a sign of the dowager’s distraction that she did not demur when Honey offered to escort her back to her chambers.

The duke gave Honey the closest thing she’d seen to a smile when he saw her lead his mother out of the drawing room.

Not until they reached the stairs did the older woman speak. “I am sorry, my dear. What a dreadful hostess I am, requiring an escort from one of my guests.” The duchess’s voice was breathy after their climb.

“Not at all, ma’am. I have been meaning to visit this wing for some time.” She glanced at a painting that hung between two sconces and then stopped, turning around. “Good Lord,” she gasped. “Tiziano Vecellio.”

“What’s that my dear?” the dowager asked before turning to peer at the painting, as if only now seeing it. “Oh, yes, a Titian. My husband believed we should not keep all the best pieces in the galleries. He liked to look at them as he came and went from his chambers.” She blinked owlishly at the painting, which was a rather wicked depiction of Bacchus and Ariadne. “This was one of his favorites and I have left it here.”

Honey heard the exhaustion in her voice and wrenched her eyes from the glorious canvas.

“I must apologize; you are tired and yet I stand here gawking.”

The dowager chuckled and they resumed their journey. “I can see how it is for you with art, my dear. My husband was the same way, if you can believe it. His old nurse once told me that it had been his dream to be a painter in his youth.” She frowned. “His father could not permit such a thing.” She cut a glance up at Honey. “My husband was the only child to survive out of seven, you see. The burdens of the dukedom descended on him early, just as it did my own son.”

“His grace was young when your husband died?”

“Yes, not yet ten-and-seven.” She shook her head. “You would not have recognized the boy he was—so happy and boisterous.” She saw Honey’s look of amazement. “Oh, yes. He was a sweet child. Not that he is not a good man now, of course. But so much death and disappointment has taken the light from him. From both my children.” Her voice wobbled and she shook her head. “Forgive me, my dear. You should not have been here these past weeks. The family is not fit for company and it must have been uncomfortable.”

It had been uncomfortable, but Honey could hardly say that. “I have greatly enjoyed my time here.”

The duchess patted her hand. “And I know that Rebecca has enjoyed having another young person around.”

Honey was amused at being called young. “I have enjoyed her, too.” And she had. Her sittings with the younger woman had been more like sessions between