Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

T he silence was immediate. Selina pretended not to notice, finishing her mouthful and then murmuring to Edward, "With all the compliments flying about the table, I think His Grace's cook deserves special congratulations, don't you?"

Edward stared at her, not replying, as if he wished to obliterate her. Then the silence was broken by Lady Saunders, clearing her throat and saying, as the pudding was brought in, "Lady Boothe, you must be honored that Lord Chauncy has chosen your husband to paint his portrait. And I applaud you for your bravery in accompanying him when I believe you have left your home on but a handful of occasions in five years. You must find the world a strange place."

Selina caught the look of concern Lord Saunders directed at his wife, as if wishing to caution her against playing with something dangerous. She noticed, also, that a rather manic smile was playing about Mrs. Piggott's lips.

Selina shook her head and widened her eyes. "Not the world," she said, slowly, "but the people in it."

"And I believe you rarely step outside your?—"

"Caroline, that's enough."

Mr. Piggott muttered the admonition to his wife before quiet Miss White, His Grace's cousin, changed the subject in a bright tone of voice, saying, "Sir Edward, Chauncy has been painted by better-known painters but had heard you are especially gifted. I wonder if I might observe you at work. I believe you will paint Chauncy tomorrow in the conservatory. Would you consider me a terrible burden if I sit quietly in a corner? I promise I'll not say a word to distract you."

What could Edward do but accept?

Meaning Selina would have to do her best at rendering His Grace's likeness from outside the conservatory.

But she would manage. Yes, Selina always found a way around every difficulty.

"Sir Edward, I believe you are not the only painter in the family. Your sister's late husband was a painter, was he not?" Mrs. Piggott was at it again.

Selina put down her knife and fork and sent her brother a considered look. How would he answer this one? How would he refer to the sister who'd caused the family such scandal?

And did Mrs. Piggott mean to cause Edward embarrassment?

Oh, Selina was not embarrassed by her poor adolescent judgement for what was done was done.

"He did paint, that is true, Mrs. Piggott." Edward bent his head to concentrate on his food, but Lady Saunders asked, "Was he a painter of likenesses, like you?"

"I taught him what I knew when he showed promise."

Selina cleared her throat. "But Samuel had no real talent," she cut in. "Not like my husband. What delicious syllabub!"

Her efforts to deflect the conversation were unsuccessful, for Mrs. Piggott remarked, "Samuel? Ah, yes, that was his name. The footman."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Selina glanced up to see His Grace regarding Mrs. Piggott with fascination before focusing his stare upon Edward.

Her indignation rose. Edward came of aristocratic stock, but their saturnine host clearly did not see fit to spare the embarrassment of someone she considered subordinate, no doubt on account of the family's many scandals. He was observing proceedings as if they were a sideshow.

Selina had to stifle the urge to hurl her plate at his handsome face.

Though that would probably amuse him even more.

However, since everyone considered Selina mad, she supposed she could do what she wished.

"Your sister, Miss Selina Boothe, was about to be presented, too, was she not?" Mrs. Piggott dabbed at her mouth with a smug little smile before adding, "But we should change the subject, shouldn't we?"

She glanced around the table while Selina, seething, wondered how such a woman felt she could get away with saying such poisonous things.

She cleared her throat. If Edward wasn't going to stand up for her, Selina had no choice but to do it herself. "My sister-in-law, Miss Selina Boothe, was such a gifted, winning young woman," she said, sweetly, "that her parents quickly forgave her. And it was not long before her husband—yes, the footman—soon made his fortune," she dipped her head, adding unwisely," eclipsing the talent of Miss Selina's brother." Selina patted Edward's hand, then said, "But he is dead, and your star has risen, my love."

Lord Saunders jerked forward. "Did you say this footman was a better painter than your husband?"

Selina heard the contempt in Lord Saunders' tone and realized she'd miscalculated. He was challenging her. Why? Because she was supposedly addle-witted and baiting her was sport?

Or was she suddenly the one taking everything that was said too personally?

Glancing about the room, she said ingenuously, "Of course, they were both enormously gifted in their own way and my dear husband's extraordinary ability to render a likeness is the reason he is here. What a lovely ruby necklace you are wearing, Mrs. Piggott." Selina grasped at whatever she could to ameliorate her brother's seething rage.

But a glance at Mrs. Piggott suggested she was the one who needed ameliorating. And, lowering her eyes to her lap, Selina realized why. Hastily she tucked beneath her napkin the excoriating likeness she'd sketched of the dreadful woman in between courses, but it was too late.

"Ladies, shall we retire to the drawing room and leave the gentlemen to their port?" It was Miss White who had risen and, with her characteristically sweet smile, was signaling to the other three women to follow her.

With trembling fingers, Selina surreptitiously turned Mrs. Piggott's likeness face down upon the other drawing she'd effected during dinner: a very admirable likeness of the duke. She'd managed that, also, between courses, in case she'd encounter difficulty later. Selina had developed a cunning ability to use any opportunity to draw when the subject did not know he was being observed.

Avoiding eye contact with anyone, she followed the group up the corridor, alert for any opportunity to conceal the drawings somewhere she could retrieve them later.

But then Miss White was at her side, talking to Selina in a tone that suggested overdone calm, and Selina wondered if she'd gone too far in pretending to be the madwoman they all thought her.

Little wonder that Beth was now treating Selina with kid gloves.

Or perhaps that was because she sensed the bully in Mrs. Piggott who kept sending Selina glances of pure vitriol from her protuberant blue eyes.

For if Selina had a gift for committing a likeness, she also had a gift for a savage parody of a likeness, honing in on a large mouth or, in Mrs. Piggott's case, eyes like a confused sheep.

The few seconds of satisfaction Selina had felt when she'd executed the sketch were now swept away by concern. What if Mrs. Piggott demanded that Selina brandish the likeness for all to see?

Having Mrs. Piggott's likeness bandied about might be bearable. Embarrassing, certainly, but not a catastrophe. However, it would be disastrous if Selina's likeness of His Grace was put on public display amongst the ladies. Then the game really would be up, as Edward would phrase it.

"Lady Boothe, I hear you are gifted on the pianoforte. Would you be so kind as to play something for us?"

Selina was not as gifted as Anna, but her playing was passable.

With a smile, she nodded. In the few seconds that she'd been preparing to seat herself in a commodious chair with a cushion, she'd found the ideal hiding place to tuck away her three precious pieces of paper.

Hopefully, her playing would deflect the attention of Mrs. Piggott and Lady Saunders.

Selina enjoyed playing the pianoforte and could play from memory, which meant she could look out into the audience to check that her drawings were safe.

Music also calmed her—which she sorely needed right now. So she ignored Lady Saunders and Mrs. Piggott's impoliteness and instead focused on Schubert's lyrical, romantic melodies.

They transported her to a time when she'd been happy.

She hadn't regretted running away with Samuel in the beginning. Despite being barred from Boothe Hall, she and Samuel found a cottage and, thanks to Selina, he soon got painting commissions. That had made Edward jealous.

And, as news of ‘Samuel's' talent had spread, a carriage had followed.

But Selina was only a woman, so the talent had to be advertised as Samuel's.

After Samuel died, having squandered the money Selina had earned, Selina had been forced to move in with Edward and Anna.

Edward had quickly advertised to the local neighborhood his ‘charity' towards his sister in taking her in when she had nothing.

He had, just as quickly, taken advantage of both Selina's business mind as well as her talent.

But even though he relied on Selina, Selina was still dependent upon his goodwill.

Just as they were now both dependent upon the duke's goodwill.

So, would Edward forgive her for embarrassing him in front of so important and influential a person as His Grace? Edward was hoping for many more commissions to result from his work here and if word went around that his wife was a liability, then Selina's plan to accompany her brother on future commissions might not come to fruition.

By the time the final notes of her piece died away, the room was silent and Selina looked up.

Miss White was clapping politely, a smile of appreciation upon her pretty countenance.

Lady Saunders and Mrs. Piggott were also clapping politely.

A smile of satisfaction upon theirs.

And it took only a shift of perspective as Selina's gaze encompassed the smoking fireplace for her to understand why.

With a gasp she rose, her hand to her breast, causing Miss White to ask in concern, "Lady Boothe, are you all right?"

Selina forced her gaze away from the sight of her sketches now smoldering in the drawing room fireplace and managed a shaky smile.

"Music always touches me deeply," she replied, taking a seat, determined not to look at the evil sisters who'd managed to slip under their hostess's gaze. Not only had they destroyed her wickedly good sketch of Mrs. Piggott, they'd also destroyed Selina's preliminary sketch of the duke.

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Boothe, I understand the sentiment only too well," said Miss White with touching sincerity before adding with concern, "Why, Lady Boothe, you're crying!"