Lawrence was one of the artists who had displeased the duchess by painting her not from reality, but rather from what he fancied she wished herself to be. That had been one of her stipulations when she commissioned me to paint her portrait. She insisted she wanted absolute truth, not flattery.
In all honesty, I didn’t know why Lawrence, or any of the other artists who had previously painted the duchess, would have even felt the need to resort to such sycophancy. The duchess might be almost sixty years old, she might sport a few wrinkles, but she was still undeniably lovely. My fingers twitched with the urge to paint her aging beauty nearly every time I saw her. To capture her puckish grin and lively eyes, the twinkle of a secret lurking in their depths, had thus far been an agreeable challenge.
I sighed. But one that would now have to wait until my shoulder healed and she was cleared of suspicion.
The door leading to the corridor opened to admit the duchess, swathed in an elegant kimono-type garment of rich red and midnight blue silk, with a shawl collar and decorative scarf. She clutched her small white dog under one arm. The terrier began to yap at the sight of me until the duchess tapped him on the nose, admonishing him to be silent.
“My dear Lady Darby,” she exclaimed, hastening toward me. “I hope your husband conveyed how terribly sorry I am that this should have happened.” She pressed her other hand to her chest. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you haven’t suffered any irreparable harm.” Her distressed gaze dipped to my abdomen, leaving no doubt she was speaking foremost about the child.
I offered her a tight smile. “Thank you. Though I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little while longer for your portrait,” I added, tipping my head toward the arm and shoulder cradled by a sling. The bandage still wrapped around my shoulder peeked out from the scooped neckline of my emerald green gown with its gold leaf print.
“Do not concern yourself for another minute about that.” She waved her hand airily. “What is another few weeks’ delay? It’s more important that you should take care of yourself. After all, I’m the one who went running off to Scotland, postponing its completion in the first place.”
Her gaze trailed over my shoulder. “Marie, yes, take him, will you?” she told her maid, who I hadn’t realized was standing in the entrance to what was likely Her Grace’s boudoir. “He will need a walk, if it can be managed in this weather.”
Marie hurried forward to take the dog, murmuring to him as they exited the way she’d entered.
Then the duchess turned to greet my brother before clasping her hands before her. “Shall I ring for tea?”
I declined, before glancing at my brother. “But perhaps you could allow us a bit of privacy.” What I needed to discuss with the duchess would be awkward enough without having an audience.
“Of course,” he replied, apparently having no qualms about leaving me alone with the duchess. “The library is just across the hall, is it not? I’ll wait for you there.”
He bowed himself out of our presence, closing the door softly behind him.
The duchess’s expression softened with regard. “Your family’s care for you does them credit.”
“It does. Though I’m afraid I don’t always properly appreciate it,” I admitted as she led me toward an oval-shaped sofa near the hearth—close enough to enjoy the fire crackling within, but not so close as to singe one’s toes.
She chuckled. “Yes, Eleanor often chafes under her brothers’ protectiveness as well, but it’s to be expected, given she’s one of the youngest and the only girl. I tell her to be thankful for it.” She turned away, tapping the turquoise cushions lightly. “Many women are not so fortunate in their brothers.”
The manner in which she said it made me wonder if she was perhaps speaking of herself.
“All of your children seem to be quite close. And quite close to you,” I said.
“Relative to most people of our rank, yes, I suppose we are.”
“You demur, but there must have been some conscious effort on your part.”
Her eyes glinted with approval. She could speak in inferences and innuendos as well as any member of the ton, but months before I had taken her measure as a woman who preferred to speak plainly. “True. Despite the demands of society, I’ve always tried to give each of my children a