Page 100 of The Mistletoe Countess
“I am not searching my mother’s room.”
Grace forced her expression into wifely sobriety, or what she expected wifely sobriety looked like. “You would know best, of course.”
“I have a new piece for you to play today,” Lady Moriah barked as soon as Grace entered the woman’s sitting room. She pointed toward the piano with her cane. “Chopin.”
Grace took her time getting to the piano. If Frederick changed his mind about the whole detective idea, she certainly didn’t want to rush him. “Chopin? That’s an excellent choice, my lady.”
“Don’t attempt to flatter me, girl.”
“And what would you prefer I do? I have an entire wealth of abilities you’ve failed to unwrap. Would you prefer rude and uncouth? I’m certain I can manage it, if I really put my mind to it. My sister often compli-mented me on my theatrics at—”
“Chopin,” came her quick order.
Grace smoothed out the pages on the piano, taking in the intricate movement of the familiar piece before beginning to play, adding in her own little trills as she went along.
“Your embellishments are not necessary to the author’s masterpiece,” the dowager huffed once Grace brought the composition to a close.
She didn’t even flinch at the woman’s harshness. The grief in Lady Moriah’s voice last night as she’d haunted the east wing curbed a little of Grace’s annoyance. At least enough to overlook her meanness.
“Where’s your imagination, Lady Mor—Astley? Surely, as a musician, you’ve learned the value of whimsy.”
The woman’s brows rose with her chin. “Whimsy?”
Grace turned on the bench to face the woman. “Playful, fanciful, something that makes you smile from the sheer delight of it? Certainly you’ve experienced it in your life through romance.” She waved toward the piano. “Or even music?”
The stoic expression wavered for the slightest second and then hardened. “You will never survive this world if your mind is housed in another.”
“I collect a great deal of strength from a very different world so that Icansurvive this one. What do you think heaven is all about?”
Her eyes narrowed, but Grace rushed ahead without giving her time to fire another insult. “Who is the man in the portrait just left of the fireplace in the Great Hall?”
The woman blinked, completely taken off guard, so Grace continued in her plot. “The one where the gentleman’s mustache looks as though the barber wasn’t quite up to task.”
Lady Moriah still didn’t come up with an answer, so Grace grinned. “I actually appreciate paintings that are more realistic and show men and women as they naturally are. It’s rather daunting trying to live up to perfection, don’t you think?”
“That painting is of Sir Damien Withersby,mygrandfather, one of the five portraits I inherited from my mother, and I can assure you there is nothing wrong with his moustache.”
“How wonderful of Lord Astley to allow you to display your family alongside his.” Grace stood and braided her fingers behind her back. “But I do feel as though one side of his moustache is higher than the other. Is the smaller portrait near his of your sister?”
A few carefully placed questions to Brandon had given her enough ammunition to know she’d met her mark without seeing Lady Moriah’s brightened glare to confirm it.
“I will have you know that is Lord Astley, the sixth’s, previous wife,notmy sister.”
“Oh well, I can only come to my own conclusions, you understand, since no one has really educated me on these matters.”
“And Sir Withersby was known as one of the most fashionable men of his time. His portrait is as impeccable as the man himself.”
“Of course.” Grace lowered her chin in due humility. “So is his wife the one hanging by the second-level stairs? The woman with the crooked nose?”
Lady Moriah stood from her chair and drew her cane up like a sentry. “Crooked nose?”
Grace nodded, maintaining her most innocent expression. “Yes, the one in the golden frame. Blue coat.”
“Thatis aMisterEverett Withersby. My father.” Her cane hit the floor. “Impossible girl! I shall not have you embarrassing the Percy and Withersby names with your ignorance.” She marched toward the door. “Your education begins now.”
Mother’s strident speech pealed through the Great Hall’s quiet, shaking Frederick from his study of his brother’s confusing financial records.
“You shall know the generations much better when I am finished with you. I shall not have future progeny suffer the ill effects of your ignorance.”
