“And what would you like to be?”
“Maybe that’s the problem. I don’t know either.” Sephi sighed. “Perhaps I ought to have a torrid affair.”
Verity nigh spluttered her champagne. “What?”
“Well, why not? I may as well embrace being ruined. Search for someone…someone who makes me shiver. But I cannot think of anyone of my acquaintance who does that.”
Verity’s eye fell upon Mr Firth as he and a lady entered the marquee. With Miles. “What about Mr Firth?”
“He is handsome, stylish and I enjoy his company but there is something too cold in his eyes and I–”
“Miss Seymour?”
Verity startled. “Lord Stonewold!”How had he done that?With the lady. And Mr Firth. Miles was clothed in black except for a waistcoat of deepest sapphire, embroidered with clusters of dainty posies: rose, primrose and forget-me-nots.
Mr Firth gave a flourishing bow. “I wished you both to meet a dear friend of mine. Miss Seymour, Miss Nash, may I introduce the Duchess of Somersby.”
Gosh.
Verity and Sephi both sunk into low curtseys.
For scarcely a mention of this duchess had escaped Aunt’s fond readings from the gossip columns this year.
A lowly vicar’s daughter, she had married the young Duke of Somersby at the age of seventeen; it had been the talk of London. Alas, a year into the marriage, the duke had died of the lung disease and the duchess had withdrawn from theTonfor nigh three years, only returning to society last season.
“Miss Seymour, a pleasure.”
“Likewise, Your Grace.”
The duchess’ eyes shifted to Sephi. She tilted her head. “Miss…Persephone Nash?”
“Y-yes, Your Grace…”
Her cousin swallowed, shoulders tightening, gaze tumbling to her toes, and Verity reached out to clutch Sephi’s hand, a small comfort against the liable cut direct that would follow from an introduction to such a noble lady.
“I am so pleased to meet you. Both of you.” Her smile was radiant. “And it is too rare, Miss Seymour, to meet a female artist.” Verity noted a violet tinge to her eyes – most arresting.
Sephi frowned but tentatively looked up. “She is most talented, Your Grace.”
The lady’s smile widened. “Which is why I asked Alasdair for the introduction, Miss Seymour, as I hoped you would consider a canine portrait.”
“It would be a pleasure.” Verity could feel Miles’ contemplation like a candle flame too near her bared skin but nevertheless, she remained resolute upon the duchess’ violet eyes. “How do you all come to know one another, Your Grace?”
“My late husband and Alasdair became good friends during their Grand Tour – before I became his duchess – but when Ilost him, Alasdair was a great comfort to me and I relied upon him to guide me in financial matters and still do.”
Verity and Sephi both bowed their heads. “Your loss was a great tragedy, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” The duchess’ fingers curled tight around her fan. “We were both so young but such love seems to me rather like a first sketch for an artist. It might be lightly drawn yet in our hearts, it is never lost but stays with one, shaping the final composition of each of us.”
With Miles’ eyes still heavy upon her, the words sank deep into Verity like a pebble into water. “Never a truer word, Your Grace,” she whispered before there came a firm male clearing of throat.
“Miss Seymour?”
“Yes, Lord Stonewold?”
“Would you care to walk the Gardens?”
“I…”
