Page 20 of A Portrait of Love

Honey took the pity she felt for the dowager and forged it into cold disdain before turning to the man beside her with a smile of insincere regret. “I appreciate your gracious offer, Lord Saybrook—I daresay you’d make a fascinatingsubject—but I have a busy calendar.”

Rather than be insulted, he gave an abrupt bark of laughter. “Oh? And just what is so important that you can’t push it off?”

Honoria actually had no other commissions, but she was hardly willing to tell him that. She grabbed the first name she could think of. “I’m engaged to paint a portrait of Lord Alvanley’s favorite spaniel.”

All eating ceased and the room was as silent as a tomb.

And then the marquess threw his head back and roared.

“Well,” he said once he’d stopped laughing. “I guess you’ve put me in my place, haven’t you?” And then he turned his attention to his plate, as if finished with both her and polite discourse.

“How did you decide to become a painter, Miss Keyes.” Lady Rebecca’s voice was soft and tentative, her eyes flickering to her father as she spoke, as if looking for approval. The duke’s eyes softened and Honey was stunned by the flash of love she saw on his face. He was not an emotionless aristocrat after all—he loved something, someone, a great deal. Did he love the girl’s mother as much?

She dismissed the thought as none of her concern and smiled at Lady Rebecca. “When I was a little girl my father would give me paints to keep me busy while he worked. After a few years he noticed I not only had an aptitude, but an interest in painting, so he began to train me in earnest.”

Simon’s head swiveled around and he fixed her with his burning gaze. “How lucky for you that he caredwhat interested you, Miss Keyes.”

Honey blinked at the barely leashed rage beneath his words. She looked at the duke; he was watching his brother with a stillness that reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Just what was going on between these two men?

Again, the dowager came to the rescue. “Your grandfather was Baron Yancey, was he not?”

It took no small amount of effort to pull her gaze from Simon, who was still staring at her.

“Yes,” Honey said. “My mother was the baron’s youngest daughter. I’m afraid he died before I was born, so I never met him.”

“Your grandfather was a close acquaintance of my late husband.”

“Now there’s an endorsement,” the marquess muttered, but so low Honey thought she was the only one who heard it.

The duchess waved away her almost untouched plate and a footman took it. “Lord Yancy’s family was quite a large one, if I recall correctly.”

“There were ten children, ma’am.”

“Ah, I did not know it had been quite thatlarge.”

“It would have been even larger but seven did not survive.” Honoria had never met her grandmother but could only imagine the woman must have been worn out by so much pain—both the physical strain of childbirth and the emotional pain of losing so many children.

The dowager’s eyes flickered to her elder son, as if she’d suddenly realized the subject she’d inadvertently introduced.

But the duke didn’t appear to have heard, his gaze still fixed on his younger brother.

Simon was methodically consuming the contents of his plate and appeared uninterested in either the subject of infant mortality or large families.

In fact, he did not speak another word for the duration of the meal.

Not until the women rose to leave did the marquess open his mouth again.

He stood and went to his niece, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Have a jolly evening, Becks.” He walked past Raymond, ignoring his cousin entirely, and then paused beside his brother, his smile sliding off his face like ice shearing from an iceberg. “I’ll leave you to your port, Wyndham. I’m for town.” He kissed his mother’s hand and gave Honey a mocking bow before leaving.

The duchess turned to Honey once the door had slammed shut behind her son. “You must be tired from your journey, Miss Keyes. Perhaps you care to retire?”

“Thank you, your grace. I am somewhat fatigued.” Honey didn’t tell the older woman that the tense dinner had been far more tiring than the long journey.

Chapter Six

The following morning a maid delivered a terse message to Honey along with her hot water.

It was from the duchess: her grace would see Miss Keyes at three o’clock.