Page 39 of The Dreaming Beauty
“Yes, but Betsy will attend you this time.” Aster looked away and busied herself as she often did to show a conversation was closed.
“Very well.” Tansy absently collected her cloak and retrieved Betsy.
When they arrived, Tansy knew she should have insisted she stay home, for Marcus was not anywhere to be seen again. It seemed inappropriate being in the presence of His Grace with only Betsy present. Sometimes her aunts did not think about the repercussions of things such as this.
“You’re a natural, Miss Tansy,” His Grace said as he peered over her shoulder to analyze her work. She’d done her best to capture the back side of the house, but there was still so much detail she wanted to add.
“You can tell me truthfully. I will not be offended.” Tansy dipped her brush into the gray and added more dimension to the stones.
“I would not lie about this. Trust me. I am known for being a harsh critic. Even your beauty would not keep me from criticizing your skills.”
“My beauty?” Tansy shied away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.
His Grace stepped to the side of the easel so they could look at each other head-on. “I have known you for two weeks now, and I am still certain you are the prettiest of my acquaintances.”
“You’re teasing me.” Tansy purposefully added more gray to the painting, trying her best to ignore how the duke openly examined her features. Heat crept up along her neck and face, and she attempted a fine line with a now shaking hand.
“I have met a great deal of people, Miss Tansy, and your face is a work of art. Better, even, since it is real.”
Tansy reluctantly met his gaze, which was steady upon her, and her breathing quickened. Instead of her stomach fluttering as it did when Marcus was near, it tightened into a ball of nerves. “Please, I cannot accept such a compliment, Your Grace.”
“I want you to call me Simon.” She ducked her head in response. “Am I scaring you again?”
“Yes, you are.” She did not even take such a liberty with Marcus, and they were far better friends.
His Grace laughed. “I like you, Miss Tansy. You are talented, beautiful, and know your mind. But I am in no hurry.” He turned back to his easel, picking up his brush again. “For now, let’s just be teacher and student.”
Fingers trembling worse than before, she returned her brush to her canvas, more than ready to paint strict boundaries between them. When a man employed flattery more often than not, it caused apprehension in her. Just as when Mr. Robinson had declared her a beauty, she knew the words did not calculate to real affection.
The last quarter hour of her session with the duke passed uncomfortably. When it was time to go, she eagerly hurried through the house with Betsy.
The duke followed her through the drawing room and down the corridor to the front entrance, with Betsy trailing behind them. Surprisingly, the butler had the door open already. A woman entered, her dark hair swirled up on her head and her dress heavily embellished, for a day gown. She was about Iris’s age, Tansy would guess. The woman turned and stared at Tansy standing so near the duke.
“Simon? Who is your guest?”
“Mother.”
Mother?Tansy stepped back, feeling like a trespasser instead of a guest.
The duke sighed. “You are back sooner than I hoped.”
His mother’s trill of a laugh sounded more sarcastic than real. “Apparently. Be a dear and introduce me to your friend.”
“If I must. I present to you Miss Tansy White, our new neighbor. Miss Tansy, meet Lady Melbourne, my mother.”
Tansy’s curtsy was long and deep, and she felt more than saw the condemning stare His Grace’s mother, the baroness, laid upon her. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Lady Melbourne.”
When Tansy dared look up, Lady Melbourne’s lids lowered, and she studied Tansy with suspicious eyes. “Miss Tansy White?”
“Yes, my lady. I reside with my aunts at Rose Cottage.”
One brow leaped up. “And why, may I ask, are you here?”
Tansy knew not what to say. Was it not obvious that she was visiting?
Thankfully, His Grace answered for her. “I am teaching her to paint. I thought of you especially, when I made the offer. I know how you adore when I obsess over my art.”
The lines around Lady Melbourne’s lips accentuated as she pinched her lips. “Oh? Well, the lessons will have to stop. You haven’t the time for them now that I have returned. You are a man of some importance, and your time and company must reflect that.”
