Page 8 of Drawn to the Duke
Oh, Selina was not embarrassed by her poor adolescent judgement for what was done was done.
“He did paint, that is true, Mrs. Piggott.” Edward bent his head to concentrate on his food, but Lady Saunders asked, “Was he a painter of likenesses, like you?”
“I taught him what I knew when he showed promise.”
Selina cleared her throat. “But Samuel had no real talent,” she cut in. “Not like my husband. What delicious syllabub!”
Her efforts to deflect the conversation were unsuccessful, for Mrs. Piggott remarked, “Samuel? Ah, yes, that was his name. The footman.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Selina glanced up to see His Grace regarding Mrs. Piggott with fascination before focusing his stare upon Edward.
Her indignation rose. Edward came of aristocratic stock, but their saturnine host clearly did not see fit to spare the embarrassment of someone she considered subordinate, no doubt on account of the family’s many scandals. He was observing proceedings as if they were a sideshow.
Selina had to stifle the urge to hurl her plate at his handsome face.
Though that would probably amuse him even more.
However, since everyone considered Selina mad, she supposed she could do what she wished.
“Your sister, Miss Selina Boothe, was about to be presented, too, was she not?” Mrs. Piggott dabbed at her mouth with a smug little smile before adding, “But we should change the subject, shouldn’t we?”
She glanced around the table while Selina, seething, wondered how such a woman felt she could get away with saying such poisonous things.
She cleared her throat. If Edward wasn’t going to stand up for her, Selina had no choice but to do it herself. “My sister-in-law, Miss Selina Boothe, was such a gifted, winning young woman,” she said, sweetly, “that her parents quickly forgave her. And it was not long before her husband—yes, the footman—soon made his fortune,” she dipped her head, adding unwisely,“ eclipsing the talent of Miss Selina’s brother.” Selina patted Edward’s hand, then said, “But he is dead, and your star has risen, my love.”
Lord Saunders jerked forward. “Did you say this footman was a better painter than your husband?”
Selina heard the contempt in Lord Saunders’ tone and realized she’d miscalculated. He was challenging her. Why?Because she was supposedly addle-witted and baiting her was sport?
Or was she suddenly the one taking everything that was said too personally?
Glancing about the room, she said ingenuously, “Of course, they were both enormously gifted in their own way and my dear husband’s extraordinary ability to render a likeness is the reason he is here. What a lovely ruby necklace you are wearing, Mrs. Piggott.” Selina grasped at whatever she could to ameliorate her brother’s seething rage.
But a glance at Mrs. Piggott suggested she was the one who needed ameliorating. And, lowering her eyes to her lap, Selina realized why. Hastily she tucked beneath her napkin the excoriating likeness she’d sketched of the dreadful woman in between courses, but it was too late.
“Ladies, shall we retire to the drawing room and leave the gentlemen to their port?” It was Miss White who had risen and, with her characteristically sweet smile, was signaling to the other three women to follow her.
With trembling fingers, Selina surreptitiously turned Mrs. Piggott’s likeness face down upon the other drawing she’d effected during dinner: a very admirable likeness of the duke. She’d managed that, also, between courses, in case she’d encounter difficulty later. Selina had developed a cunning ability to use any opportunity to draw when the subject did not know he was being observed.
Avoiding eye contact with anyone, she followed the group up the corridor, alert for any opportunity to conceal the drawings somewhere she could retrieve them later.
But then Miss White was at her side, talking to Selina in a tone that suggested overdone calm, and Selina wondered if she’d gone too far in pretending to be the madwoman they all thought her.
Little wonder that Beth was now treating Selina with kid gloves.
Or perhaps that was because she sensed the bully in Mrs. Piggott who kept sending Selina glances of pure vitriol from her protuberant blue eyes.
For if Selina had a gift for committing a likeness, she also had a gift for a savage parody of a likeness, honing in on a large mouth or, in Mrs. Piggott’s case, eyes like a confused sheep.
The few seconds of satisfaction Selina had felt when she’d executed the sketch were now swept away by concern. What if Mrs. Piggott demanded that Selina brandish the likeness for all to see?
Having Mrs. Piggott’s likeness bandied about might be bearable. Embarrassing, certainly, but not a catastrophe. However, it would be disastrous if Selina’s likeness of His Grace was put on public display amongst the ladies. Then the game really would be up, as Edward would phrase it.
“Lady Boothe, I hear you are gifted on the pianoforte. Would you be so kind as to play something for us?”
Selina was not as gifted as Anna, but her playing was passable.
With a smile, she nodded. In the few seconds that she’d been preparing to seat herself in a commodious chair with a cushion, she’d found the ideal hiding place to tuck away her three precious pieces of paper.
