Page 33 of The Look of Love

If the butler thought anything of her having to inquire about her new husband’s whereabouts, he kept it to himself. “Mr. Barrett left just after breakfast, madam. He didn’t say when he’d be back.”

So Gavin had returned, but from the sound of it, he’d barely taken the time to change his clothes before heading out again.

“Then I suppose we shan’t have to worry about giving him luncheon,” she said.

Norris inclined his head as she turned on her heel and walked deliberately to her new studio. She pushed open the door and all of her annoyance melted away. This room, this beautiful, light-filled room, was all hers.

It was perfect. An old conservatory with three walls and a roof of glass, it was flooded with the natural light her workspace in her father’s home had been devoid of. There was just enough space to accommodate her workbench, a good area for carving, and a few niceties.

She yanked the sheet off the marble she’d ordered for her exhibition piece and smiled. To most this was just a rough-hewn block of stone. To her it was potential.

She ran her fingers over the bumpy surface, imagining herself chipping away layer upon layer. Each sculpture was different, and this one would be her largest and most challenging—appropriate, for it would also be her clandestine entry at the Royal Sculpture Society’s summer exhibition. Women were barred from entering the competition, but there were ways to submit her work that would leave the judges none the wiser.

She’d decided to carve a scene from Hero and Leander, two of her favorite characters from Greek mythology. Hero would hold her drowned lover in her arms, weeping over him just moments before she threw herself off her tower to join him in the afterlife. It was an ambitious choice, requiring careful planning to execute the entwined arms and make the stone come to life with Hero’s grief, but if she managed it no one would be able to deny her skill.

At her workbench, Ina pulled out a stack of sketches bound up in a leather portfolio. She’d been working up drawings late at night when her aunt couldn’t bother her. Details of hands and feet joined full drawings of the two figures—Leander nude with his hair still dripping from the river and Hero wearing a gown befitting her role as Aphrodite’s priestess. The work would be controversial, dynamic, and thrilling.

She was still sifting through drawings when a quiet cough drew her attention. Norris was waiting just on the threshold of the studio.

“Do come in, Norris,” she said, setting aside a study of an elbow joint.

“Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Nell, and Miss Breck inquire whether you’re home,” he said.

Of course her friends were here. They’d want to know all about the rest of her wedding day. She just didn’t know what she was going to tell them.

“I’ll see them in here. If you could arrange for another chair or two and ask Mrs. Hart for tea also, that would be appreciated,” she said.

“Very good.”

Christine’s high, trilling laugh drifted down the hallway a few moments later. The door to the studio swung open and Norris sidestepped out of the way to avoid being hit by wide-flung arms as the three women she cared most for in the world rushed forward to greet her.

Lana pressed Ina into the warm comfort of her embrace. “My dear, marriage clearly agrees with you.”

“I’ve been married just twenty-four hours,” Ina reminded her friend with a smile. “I’m not sure it’s had a chance to work any effects, positive or ill.”

“One day is all it takes if it’s done right,” said Christine with a wicked glint in her eye.

“And often,” teased Lana.