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This seemed to bring Bess up short. “Quite right,” she said a little gruffly after a pause. “Wasn’t thinking straight.”

It wasn’t like her, thought Fen, wondering what had got into her friend. She could be a little fiery, but she was usually good-natured with it.

“Benedict tells me your portrait is nearly completed now,” said Bess.

Fen pondered this a moment. “Who is Benedict?” she asked at last, defeated.

Bess coughed. “Why, signor Arnotti, to be sure.” Her ruddy complexion deepened.

“Oh I see,” said Fen, surprised they were on first name terms. Bess was an heiress and noblewoman, despite her eccentricities.

“To be frank, it looked finished to me when I saw it two days ago,” Bess continued. “But Ben- I mean signor Arnotti,” she corrected herself hastily. “Is something of a perfectionist.”

“Have you seen my portrait?” asked Fen in surprise.

Bess nodded. “Oh yes.”

“But I thought he didn’t permit anyone to look at his pictures unless they were fully finished?” exclaimed Fen.

Bess fiddled with her glove in a very un-Bess like fashion. She looked almost coy. “Oh yes,” she agreed vaguely. “But that mostly applies to his subjects.”

“I see,” said Fen. “Perhaps I should ask to see your portrait?” she added rather tartly.

“Now don’t be cross,” begged Bess. “It doesn’t suit you. And besides, I never did sit for one. You can see the one of Padraig, if you like” she added generously, seeing Fen wasn’t quite appeased. “He did him very life-like.”

“Well, I just hope he has done Bors justice,” said Fen. “Or my brother-in-law will be sure to take issue with it.”

“Bors?” repeated Bess with a frown, eyeing Fen’s dog. “Is he supposed to be in it?”

“Don’t tell me he’s missed him out!” said Fen. “Oh, that really is too much! I was quite specific!”

“Well, I’m no artist,” said Bess. “But wouldn’t he look a bit well… odd in that composition?”

“I don’t see what’s odd about it,” retorted Fen. “He sat quite happily at my feet for hours in the Long Gallery. Signor Arnotti certainly had ample opportunity to capture his likeness, and so I will tell him if he has forgotten to include him!”

“Well, I’m sure you know what you’re about,” said Bess with a shrug. “Benedict said patrons are usually dissatisfied about something or other. Tell me,” she said turning impulsively and seizing Fen’s gloved hand. “What do you think of him?”

“Well,” started Fen weakly, for she was taken aback by Bess’ earnest expression. “I can’t really form an opinion until I’ve seen an example of his work. Lady Eden said he was most accomplished and-”

“Not as an artist,” entreated Bess. “As a man!”

Fen blinked. In the few strained exchanges she had had with signor Arnotti, she had gained the impression of an unpredictable and impatient man with beetling brows and a mop of hair that stood on end on his head from where he tugged it distractedly as he worked. She had a feeling this impression would not go down well with Bess.

“No,” said Bess holding up one finger. “Do not water it down, but speak plain, I beg you.”

“We-ell,” started Fen helplessly, “I’ve barely had much speech with him. And when we did it was mostly just me asking for permission to move, or take a break. Or him demanding that I sit still or turn my head, or stop turning my head.”

To her surprise Bess looked rather gratified by this. “He does not pay you any out of the way compliments?” she asked hesitantly.

Fen blinked again. She could imagine nothing less likely from the grouchy painter. “Definitely not!”

“Such as how you are the first sensible woman he has met in this country, or how much he likes your forthright manner of speech?”

“No. He has never paid me a compliment of any kind,” answered Fen truthfully.

Bess sighed. “Thank you,” she said, a gratified expression on her face, that quite threw Fen. She could barely get any more than two words strung together after that from her usually garrulous friend and their return journey to the castle was mostly undertaken in silence.

After parting ways Fen made her way back to their corridor, deeply worried. Surely her friend was not in danger of forming some unsuitable kind of attachment? She had no idea of Bess’s family set up. Had she no brother or kinsmen to guard her from fortune-hunters? After all, a wealthy woman with connections like Bess must have someone looking out for her. Though truth be told, it was hard to think of signor Arnotti as some kind of seducer of noblewomen. Surely fortune-hunters took pains to make themselves a lot more agreeable than the rather uncouth artist? The compliments Bess had mentioned were hardly fulsome. Perhaps she was over-thinking things. Mayhap Bess had just been enjoying a little male company in a harmless sort of way?