"It is Yarrow and that set-"
He shook his head ruefully. "Truth to tell, it is your baroness. She seemed such an unspoiled creature when I began her portrait. I envisaged her as one thing. Then before my eyes, she changed. She no longer seemed at home in her woodsy setting. I fear she will not be flattered at her likeness. When she nagged at me for the tenth time about 'that horrid dress,' I was tempted to stick a tiara on her saucy head."
Laura blushed for her cousin's behavior. "She was not accustomed to so much attention. It has gone to her head, I fear. Lord Talman is her latest conquest. He has invited us to Castlefield for the weekend."
"I didn't think he came so often for the pleasure of watching me work. My only question was whether it was the baroness or yourself who was the drawing card," he said, with a quizzical smile.
"Me!" Laura exclaimed, and laughed. "Indeed, no. I am merely his confidante."
"There is no accounting for taste," he said, with a gallant bow that suggested the baroness was not his own first choice. "Will you go to Castlefield?"
"I have some hope that the lure of horseflesh might win her over. She would prefer to stay in town and rattle about with Yarrow, I expect. He has arranged an outing this afternoon-which means Mr. Meadows and I must tag along behind, to play propriety."
Hyatt knew that Laura was frequently in Meadows's company. Her casual linking of their names suggested a growing closeness between them. "You have known him for some time, I believe?"
"His aunt lives at Whitchurch, so he has been going there for years." He waited, nodding, but she said no more.
After seeing Hyatt's engravings, Laura felt that she had passed up an opportunity at immortality by refusing to sit for him. She felt sure that his works would last. How marvelous to have a likeness of herself, done by a true genius. She wished he would broach the subject again. She sensed some change in him. He had not flirted with her since the day she refused his second offer to paint her. He was too gentlemanly to sulk, but she had been aware of a distance in his manner. And she was too shy to bring the idea forward herself.
She looked at him a moment, just smiling, then said, "Well, may we see the painting of the baroness now?"
"Of course. It is customary to open a bottle of champagne to toast the work's success. You will tell me whether this one merits champagne or ale."
When they went into the studio, the others were at the easel, examining the picture. At a glance, Laura thought it very much like his other society portraits, only in a different setting, of course. The same idealization of Olivia's charms was there. But as she studied it, she noticed the expression on the face was a little off. A nymph of nature should look innocent. That 'rapture' he had mentioned was nowhere in evidence. There was a jarring air of pride in Olivia's uplifted chin, a touch of ennui in the glazed eye. Laura sensed that he had become bored with it. He had not bothered to paint in the straw bonnet, for instance, as he had planned.
"Lovely!" Olivia cooed. "I love it, Lord Hyatt! May I take it home to show Auntie?"
"It is not dry yet. I am not quite happy with the face-the eyes," he said, gazing at his work.
"You must not change a thing! I look so pretty. Is it not very lifelike, cousin?"
"Very lifelike," Laura agreed. Then she glanced at Hyatt, and their eyes held. She read some secret amusement in them. His ennui with the work had escaped Olivia. She looked pretty, and that was all that mattered.
"Between you and the baroness, you will certainly set a new style," Talman said, studying the portrait. "I foresee all the ladies removing their jewels, borrowing their maids' frocks, painting freckles on their faces, and running barefoot through the drawing rooms of London."
Mr. Meadows also thought it a jolly fine picture. There was some quiet talk of how much should be paid and which charity the check should be delivered to.
Talman turned discreetly away to converse with Laura. "The baroness has agreed to come, if her aunt approves. I must have a word with Hyatt, but I shall go to Charles Street a little later to add my persuasions to hers. I hope the baroness is not disappointed with the stable," he said. Obviously that was what had won Olivia over.
"I fear such a trip will require the Turtle, Lord Talman," Laura warned him. "Mrs. Traemore will never venture outside of London without it."
"I should love to see it! I must be the only man in London who was not caught behind it during its voyage to town."
Suddenly Hyatt appeared at Laura's elbow. "You have not told me. Do we christen the work with champagne, or ale?"
"Oh, champagne!" Talman decreed. "We cannot insult the baroness with ale, Hyatt. Even if it is not one of your best works," he added frankly.
The champagne was produced and drunk, and Mr. Meadows escorted the ladies home.
In the studio, Lord Talman said, "I don't suppose you would be interested in joining us at Castlefield this weekend, Hyatt? Mama would love to have you."
"Let me know if the baroness's party agrees to go."
"Do I sense competition?" Talman asked warily.
"Not for the baroness."
"I see." Talman realized Hyatt did not care for the baroness and assumed his acceptance hinged on her refusing. He wanted Hyatt's presence, and to encourage his coming he said, "Miss Harwood is a nice girl. Sensible. She was mad for your engravings, you know. You were mistaken to think the ladies would not appreciate them. You ought to have them exhibited."
"A few ladies have seen them. Their usual comment is, why do I waste my time on such things, when I can paint so nicely."
"The fate of you geniuses," Talman joked. "A man is never a prophet in his own country, and I would add that seldom in his own lifetime either."
"Now you are making me blush, Talman. You won't forget to let me know if the baroness's party is going to Castlefield?"
"Certainly. That sounds like an invitation for me to leave."
"I have a little business to attend to."
They parted, and Hyatt returned to stare at the painting on the easel. It was a horrible, botched thing. Yet the sitter had loved it. Society would love it. The only bit of originality in it was the setting and costume, and that was hardly original. Marie Antoinette and the great court ladies had amused themselves by playing peasants at the Petit Trianon. Of course they had no real interest in the country life. It was merely a fashion.
His mind roved to Laura Harwood. He was surprised and gratified that she had approved of his engravings. Odd, too, that she had mentioned his own favorite, the Old Sailor. She was one of those quiet girls who improved on longer acquaintance. He had seen a good deal of her unobtrusive management of the baroness. She always maintained her calm and her good manners. She had what Mama would call countenance. He hoped she would be at Castlefield. He would like to know her better, hopefully away from the baroness… and Mr. Meadows.
Chapter Eleven
It was uphill work convincing Hettie Traemore that a trip of twenty-five miles was anything but an imposition. She was fully alive to the wonders of Lord Talman being the Duke of Castlefield's eldest son. It would be very fine to see Livvie a duchess, but still-twenty-five miles. Over four hours, and her back in agony every step of the way.
"We shall take the Turtle and your recliner," Olivia said. "We must go, Auntie. Lord Talman has a famous stable, and you know how bored I have been without proper riding."
It was not only the lure of the stable that had decided the baroness to accept Talman's invitation. A quick glance at the atlas in Lord Montford's study had confirmed what she already suspected. Gatwick, where Mr. Yarrow and his friends were visiting that weekend to attend a boxing match, was less than ten miles away. She would inform him this very night of the visit and arrange to meet him in the drapery shop in Gatwick on Saturday morning to set up a proper tryst, after she had got the lay of the land. A tryst would be possible, when she meant to spend the better part of her time on horseback. She would lose whatever horrid old groom they insisted on sending with her, and meet Mr. Yarrow, who was now "John" in her private thoughts. That would show him she was full of pluck.