"I SAW HER here earlier," Rachael said, wandering the Teddington ballroom for the second time.
Griffin walked with her, keeping his eyes off her damned clingy dress. Or at least trying to. "I saw her here as well, I think." He wasn't exactly sure which woman was the Dowager Countess of Avonleigh. He realized she was one of the ABC sisters, but Lady C, Juliana's mother-in-law, was the only one of them he knew at all well. He'd always thought of Lady A and Lady B sort of lumped together. One was plump and one was skinny, but he wasn't sure which was which. "Has she got some meat on her bones, or is she a stick?"
"Really, Griffin. She's a perfectly lovely, kind, healthy-looking woman."
The plump one, then. The other one looked like she hadn't eaten in a week, which couldn't possibly be healthy. "Let's check the refreshment room again. And then you can check the ladies' retiring room again."
"And we should check the garden again, too." Rachael turned toward the refreshment room, then turned back. "There's Lady C. I bet she'll know where her sister went. Lady Cavanaugh!" She waved, and Lady C started walking toward them.
They met her halfway. "You look lovely tonight, dear," Lady C told her. "That's a stunning ballgown, and it matches your eyes, which are sparkling like diamonds."
"Thank you," Rachael said, her eyes sparkling even more. "I'm looking for your sister, Lady Avonleigh. Do you know where she might have gone off to?"
"I'm afraid she went home, dear."
"Oh, no. Is she unwell?"
"Not at all. But my sisters are older and don't stay out as late as they used to, especially since they began helping my son run his New Hope Institute. I expect she's sound asleep by now." Lady C put a hand on Rachael's arm. "What did you want with her? Is it something I can help you with?"
"No. I…well, I just need to talk to her. Do you think she'd mind my paying a call on her tomorrow?"
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind at all," Lady C said, looking curious but obviously much too polite to press. She pulled her reticule off her wrist and opened it, fishing out a scrap of paper and a pencil. "She lives just off Oxford Street. I'll write down her direction for you."
"I know where she lives. I was at her house for my cousin Corinna's art reception."
"How could I have forgotten that?" With a charming laugh, Lady C dropped the items back into her fancy little purse. "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you again."
"Thank you so much," Rachael said, and waited patiently while Lady C walked off. Or at least, she looked patient. No sooner had the older woman got out of earshot than she whirled to Griffin. "Lady Cavanaugh is my aunt—can you believe it? She's such a nice lady. The wait is going to kill me. Can we visit Lady Avonleigh first thing tomorrow? You'll come with me, won't you?"
"I need to take Corinna to Lady Hartley's breakfast."
"That doesn't start until half past one. The best people won't get there until three o'clock. It isn't fashionable to arrive at parties on time."
He'd never understand why a garden party that started after one o'clock was called a breakfast. He ate breakfast every morning at eight. And why the devil was it fashionable to arrive late? But maybe Corinna would be more cooperative if he allowed her to paint until three. "Very well, then. We'll go see Lady Avonleigh right after church."
"How about before church?"
"You can't wake up an old lady to give her this news, Rachael. Or interrupt her toilette. And then no doubt she'll be in church, and then she'll want luncheon." Lady A was the one who liked to eat, after all, and Lady Hartley wouldn't be serving "breakfast" until the fashionable people arrived. "I'll pick you up at one o'clock."
"Then we won't get to Lady A's until half past one. What if she's left for Lady Hartley's house already?"
"You just told me people won't arrive until three. Half past noon, then. That ought to be safe."
"I cannot wait that long."
"You've already waited twenty-four years, remember? I expect you'll survive."
"All right," Rachael muttered, sounding more than disgruntled. But her eyes were still sparkling. She looked better than she had in months, as though she were blossoming, as though a weight had lifted off her shoulders. Not that she'd looked bad before…
She licked her lips.
Good God, he would really be in trouble now.
"HOW IS IT going?" Griffin asked.
Startled, Corinna jumped, then quickly stepped from behind her easel, struggling out of the fog she'd worked in all day.
"All right," she said, though the painting was going brilliantly.
Although it was faced away from him, she raised her palette before it like a shield. She couldn't risk Griffin's seeing it before she'd changed Sean's hair and eyes—she didn't want him to know Sean was her model unless he had to know. Unless she decided she had no choice but to tell him. With any luck, Griffin might decide she could marry Sean without ever learning he'd posed nude.
"I don't want you to see it until it's finished."
He only shrugged, in any case. He'd never cared overmuch about her art. "I'm glad to hear it's going well. I want you to attend Lady Hartley's breakfast tomorrow."
"I'm not going, Griffin. I already told you that. How was the Teddington ball?"
"It went well. I lined up four men there for you to meet tomorrow. You should go up to bed now, so you'll be fresh."
She glanced toward the clock on the drawing room's mantel. "It's but one in the morning, and you know I rarely stop painting before three. And I don't need to be fresh tomorrow, because I'm not going to the breakfast."
"How about if we compromise and you paint until three o'clock tomorrow afternoon? That sounds fair, doesn't it? It's the event of the season."
"The Summer Exhibition is the event of my life." He was such a brother. She decided to change the subject. "Have you asked Mr. Delaney's advice yet regarding property management?"
"I've been too busy. And why do you care?" His eyes narrowed speculatively. "Juliana asked me about that, too. You're not interested in Mr. Delaney, are you?"
She wondered whether he would consider that a good thing or a bad one. "Interested in what way?"
"As a suitor. A potential husband."
She still couldn't tell what he was thinking. Better to play it safe, she decided; better he should get to know Sean before she admitted anything. "Of course not. I just remembered you'd said you wanted to talk to him, and I wondered if you had yet, that's all." She hoped that when he did talk to Sean he'd be impressed, which would save her from having to tell him who had posed for her portrait. "Now leave me alone, Griffin. I need to paint. And I'm not going to Lady Hartley's breakfast."
"I'll send our regrets," he gritted out, and then, as he walked off, Corinna heard him mutter, "Why do women always seem to get the best of me?"
Fog-free for the first time all day, she returned to her easel to appraise her picture. It really was coming along brilliantly, she thought, smiling. Just brilliantly.
But oh, my.
This was one extremely sensual painting.
Maybe no one besides the committee should see it before it was hung in the Summer Exhibition. It was her best work ever, but someone might express shock and talk her out of submitting it. Griffin especially—even though he wouldn't be able to tell it was Sean, he might not be entirely thrilled that his sister had painted such a portrait. After all was said and done, after she'd been honored by its selection, it would be a different story. He'd be proud of her then, surely. But before then…
Thanks heavens Lady A had offered to go with her to deliver it. She'd have to cover it up so the dear woman wouldn't be able to examine it in the carriage. Then somehow get through the submission process without her ever seeing it.
How she'd manage that, she couldn't imagine, but she'd worry about that later. After the painting was finished, after she'd changed Sean's hair and eyes.
Until then, she wanted him just as he looked now, she thought, raising her brush to the canvas and letting the fog close in again.