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“It’s me,” Louisa said. “May I come in?”
Seeing the slightly mocking glance of Kingsley’s sketch, Emma hurriedly stuffed the paper in the middle of her others. “Of course, come in,” she replied, taking a new sheet of paper out and started the face of baby George.
Louisa came in with a sigh and leaned against the door. “Blessed peace.”
“Oh?”
“George is down for a nap. Charlotte is practicing her letters with Nurse. And Harry and Simon are in the library talking.”
Emma laughed. “You sound as if you never get a moment to yourself.”
“Barely.” Louisa approached the table and watched as Emma continued her sketch of George.
Emma had many drawings of George and could quickly reproduce another from memory. As she drew the infant’s mouth, Louisa let out a small laugh.
“Oh, how I wish I had your talent, Emma.” Louisa sat down next to her sister and watched the picture take shape. “I want this one.”
“Of course.” Emma laughed as the pencil seemed to have a mind of its own, etching the little bow mouth of her nephew. “It is completely unfair that you should have such a beautiful little boy.”
“It’s all Harry’s fault. George looks so much like him.”
“He does at that.”
Emma went quiet to concentrate on George’s eyes.
“What did you and Simon talk of in the conservatory this afternoon?”
Emma felt heat flood her cheeks. “Sketching and painting.”
“That was all?”
“Yes, Louisa,” Emma replied, irritated with the tone of her sister’s voice. “I do have a question for you, though.”
Louisa frowned. “Regarding Simon?”
“No, my painting. I would like to engage a teacher and might need your assistance.”
“Of course, I will send a letter to Mr. Coward as soon as we return to London. And I shall be happy to pay for the lessons.”
“Thank you, Louisa, but I do not want Mr. Coward to teach me. I would like to paint in oil. To do so means I need a place outside of Mamma’s watchful gaze. She would never allow me to paint in oils. What I need from you is help finding an instructor who will teach a woman and a place in your home where he could give me lessons.”
Her sister let out a sigh. “Of course, I will help you. But might I ask what brought on this sudden desire to paint in a medium most people feel is not proper for a lady?”
“I have been thinking about it for a while. Mr. Kingsley remarked on the quality of my watercolors and inquired if I painted in oils too.”
“Did he now?” Louisa asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
“Yes. It was honestly the first civil conversation I think I’ve had with the man.”
“I will help you with your painting. I know the perfect room for your lessons and painting, and the lighting is excellent. We will work on finding you an instructor who will teach a woman.”
Emma laughed at the look of determination on her sister’s face. “And you shall be my first portrait in oils.”
“Practicing on me, are you?”
They both laughed, but Louisa sobered first.
“Please be careful around Simon, Emma. I love him like a brother, but he is not the type of man who will marry.”
