GINGERBREAD CAKES
Take four pints of Flower with Ginger and Nutmeg and rub Butter into it. Add to it Brandy and Treacle and mix it altogether. Let it lay till it grows stiffe then pinch pieces and make into little balls. Flatten cakes on a tin and add a Sweetmeat if you please and bake.
These spicy little cakes are known to raise the spirits. Not ghosts, that is, but spirits of the emotional variety. Excellent to bring when paying visits to the ill.
—Anne, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1775
UPON ARRIVING at Lincolnshire House the next afternoon, Corinna was shown to a drawing room, where Sean sat holding a book that he'd apparently been reading to Lord Lincolnshire.
He rose immediately. "I waited for you all yesterday. Where were you?"
He'd waited all day? "I was helping Lady Avonleigh make invitations for a reception. And I was painting. And earlier I went back to the colorman's shop." Well, really to the bookstore to buy Children of the Abbey. "What were you doing here all day? Didn't you need to…ah"—she slanted a glance to Lord Lincolnshire—"paint?"
"I have a lot of work to do, yes. But my uncle is my priority," he said pointedly.
"Of course." The strain in his voice sparked her guilt. And her poor mind was all topsy-turvy like Pamela's had been in the book Pamela or Virtue and Reward.
She'd promised to visit more often, and she imagined Sean did have some work to do—though she didn't know what—but she couldn't spend all day with the earl in his stead, could she? If she wanted to submit a portrait for the Summer Exhibition, she had to work, too.
"Good afternoon, Lord Lincolnshire," she said, walking toward the older man. "I brought you some gingerbread cakes. They're supposed to raise one's spirits."
"Says who?" Sean asked, taking the basket.
"Says my family's heirloom cookbook. Each lady in the family adds a recipe every year, and they all have legends attached. Not that I believe such nonsense," she hastened to add. "My sister Juliana baked these. I'm hopeless in the kitchen."
"I wasn't aware any ladies in Mayfair ever entered a kitchen."
"All the Chase ladies do," Lord Lincolnshire said, pausing for a breath. "They're famous for their sweets."
"All except me," Corinna said.
Sean handed Lord Lincolnshire a sweet and took one for himself. "Please, have a seat."
Corinna looked around the room, which she'd never been in before. The butler, Quincy, had called it the "yellow drawing room" when he'd shown her in here. The walls were covered with yellow silk printed with pink roses, green leaves, and some blue flowers she couldn't name. All the sofas, chairs, and footstools were upholstered in yellow brocade. Part of Lord Lincolnshire's extensive Ming vase collection was in here, and there were several excellent paintings on the walls, including two Rembrandts.
She wanted to study them, but Sean had asked her to sit, and he still seemed a bit peeved. Since she wanted another kiss from him, she decided to study them from a chair.
After she chose the seat with the best view, Sean reseated himself too. "This gingerbread is delicious," he said.
"I'll tell Juliana." She turned to Lord Lincolnshire. He was covered to the waist with a heavy blanket, making her wonder what might be concealed underneath. His hands looked a little puffy, and he'd taken only a tiny bite of the cake. "How are you feeling today, my lord?"
"Better than one might expect, thanks to my nephew." He smiled at Sean, apparently waiting to catch his breath before continuing. "I've been thinking, nephew"—pause—"that I'd like to meet your wife."
Sean exchanged a panicked look with Corinna. "I left my wife in the countryside, Uncle, as I told you. She prefers the quiet life."
Lord Lincolnshire looked disappointed but seemed to accept the state of affairs, since his response was, "Very well." But then he added, "As I was saying when Lady Corinna arrived—"
"Shall I continue reading?" Sean interrupted.
"Not now, nephew. We have a lovely…young lady visiting. And as I…was saying—"
"Would you care for another sweet, Uncle?"
"I haven't finished this one." Pause. "I've been—"
"Have you need of another pillow?"
"No." The poor man was already leaning against at least five of them. "I've—"
"Are you certain—"
"Will you let the man speak?" Corinna cut in. In the awkward silence that followed, she tore her gaze from one of the Rembrandts and turned to the earl. "What did you want to say, Lord Lincolnshire?"
"I wanted to say…that I've been thinking I'd like Sean…to paint a portrait of me. One last portrait…before I depart this fine world."
Sean glared at her. Apparently he'd realized this was coming. But how was she supposed to have known?
"I don't think he can do that, Lord Lincolnshire," she said carefully. "Mr. Hamilton paints only landscapes."
"Surely he can paint…one portrait."
Sean shook his head. "I've never painted a portrait."
Truer words were never spoken, Corinna thought.
"You're a skilled artist, nephew. One of the very best…in the land." Lord Lincolnshire gasped and waited a moment—a moment during which Corinna wracked her brain for a way to help Sean, as she'd promised. "Surely—"
"May I paint you, Lord Lincolnshire?" she interrupted. "Please? I'd be honored if you'd allow me. I've been dying to paint a portrait to submit to the Royal Academy for the Summer Exhibition. If it turns out well, perhaps it will be selected. A subject of your stature could absolutely make my career."
"Me?" Lord Lincolnshire wheezed. "In the Summer Exhibition?"
"Possibly," she reiterated. "None of my portraits have turned out stellar so far, since I haven't had any anatomy lessons. But lately I've been sketching the Elgin Marbles for practice, and I shall try my best—"
"I'm certain," Lord Lincolnshire interrupted, "it will turn out brilliant." He smiled at her as though she'd brought the sun. "But my days are…numbered. Tomorrow being Sunday, I'm hoping…my dear nephew…will take me to church. May we begin Monday?"
"I think we should start now." Her painting was due to the Royal Academy a scant sixteen days hence, and she hoped to show it at Lady A's reception five days before that. "If you've some paper, I can begin sketching you immediately."
"Excellent." Lord Lincolnshire lifted a silver bell from a table beside him. "I shall have a footman…fetch paper…posthaste."
While he rang the bell, Corinna glanced rather triumphantly to Sean.
His expression took her aback. A page from Children of the Abbey flashed into her mind, where Amanda had looked at Lord Mortimer and thought seducing sweetness dwelt in his smile.
A matching sweetness seemed to melt in Corinna's middle, making her remember she wanted another kiss.
In fact, she'd planned to let Sean kiss her again just as soon as he stopped pretending he wasn't John Hamilton, hadn't she? But instead, he'd convinced her he'd been telling the truth. That was equivalent, wasn't it? Either way, the truth had come out Thursday, and today was Saturday, which meant they'd had two whole days of truthfulness between them…and still she hadn't been kissed.
Actually, she suddenly realized, he hadn't even tried. Whatever could that mean? He couldn't have meant it when he said he'd never kiss her again, could he?
Holy Hannah, she hoped not.
A footman handed her a pencil and some paper. She blinked and looked back to Lord Lincolnshire. "What would you like to be doing?"
"Doing?"
"In your portrait. I don't care for portraits where the subject simply stands there and stares at the viewer. I'd prefer for you to be doing something."
"Well, I cannot…simply stand there…in any case." With a faint but good-natured smile, Lord Lincolnshire gestured to his covered legs. "I shall…have to be sitting." His expression turned contemplative. "I've always…enjoyed a good book. Perhaps I can be…reading a book."
While she'd been hoping for something a bit more active, she decided that would have to do. If the man had always loved to read, it was suitable, after all. Thinking Sean had pleased the earl by reading aloud, she glanced back to him.
He was still smiling at her with seducing sweetness.
Oh, very well, maybe it wasn't seducing sweetness; maybe it was only gratitude that she'd saved him from having to paint Lord Lincolnshire. But either way, he was smiling. He was happy with her.
She'd get him to kiss her one way or another.
She returned his smile. "Would you care to read while I sketch, Mr. Hamilton?"
He nodded and opened the book.
Letting his melodic voice wash over her, she settled back and put pencil to paper. And even though Sean wasn't reading a romantic novel, she kept smiling as she listened and sketched.