Page 16 of Oddity of the Ton
“But Lord Marlow—surely he’d want someone appropriate?”
“And he does—which is why we’ve chosenyou.”
“Can I think about it?”
Lavinia opened her mouth, as if to protest. Then she nodded. “Of course, darling—it must be your choice. I love you dearly, and I couldn’t wish for a better person with which to entrust my child’s moral welfare. But I shan’t press the matter.”
She gestured toward Eleanor’s sketchbook. “Have you brought more sketches for me to admire? You’ve been glancing toward your sketchbook from the moment I sat down. Or…”Recognition glimmered in Lavinia’s eyes. “You wish to drawme?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Very well, I shall oblige. Would you like me to pose for you?”
“No, just sit as you are,” Eleanor replied. “I want to capture your happiness.”
Her throat tightened as she uttered the word.
Happiness.
Lavinia had always surpassed Eleanor in desirability, looks, and the ability to function in Society. Her marriage had only widened the gulf between them. And with a child on the way, Lavinia was drifting into an entirely different world, in which Eleanor had no place.
Eleanor opened her sketchbook at a clean page. For a moment, she let the emotions wash over her—the fear of a blank page, and the thrill of stepping out on a fresh journey, to commit the soul of her subject to paper.
She lifted her gaze and studied her friend while her pencil moved about the page.
Lavinia was one of the few among Eleanor’s acquaintance whom she could trust to look into her eyes. Their soft hazel color conveyed warmth, love, and sanctuary.
Lavinia nodded toward the sketchbook. “There’s one thing I’ve always failed to understand about you, Elle.”
Eleanor studied her friend’s face, taking in the little creases around the eyes, evidence of a lack of sleep, but also crinkling into a smile to convey her contentment.
“Mmm?”
“How can you draw on a page when you’re not looking at it?”
“Because I’m drawingyou, not the page.”
Lavinia laughed. “That’s what I love about you—you’re so literal!”
“I wish I wasn’t,” Eleanor said. “I often regret what I say as soon as I’ve spoken.”
“Such as?”
“I asked Mother once if she were unhappy.”
“Your mother looks discontented most of the time,” Lavinia said.
“But this time, she looked particularly sad. It turned out she’d been refused credit at a jeweler in Hatton Garden, when she tried to purchase her birthday present from Papa.”
“She purchased herownbirthday gift?”
“Not in the end. Papa was there when I said she was unhappy. When he heard what happened, he refused to give her the money, saying Mother had a necklace for each day of the year and had no need for more. Mother refused to speak to Papa for two days, and she confined me to the house for a week.”
“I’m sorry,” Lavinia said.
“Don’t be. Papa told me afterward that he relished the respite and only wished it had lasted longer. As for me—I missed two dinner parties, including Lady Baldwin’s soirée. I wish I could think of an opportunity to anger Mother again, so I might be excused from attending the Duchess of Westbury’s party next week.” She glanced up, hope surging within her. “I don’t supposeyou’regoing?”
“We’ve a prior engagement, I’m afraid. But the duchess is charming—totally unlike what you might expect. You have something in common, given that her father’s a merchant. You might like her.”
