The Portrait of a Scarred Duke by Patricia Haverton

Chapter 10

“She’s a woman!” Seth’s mother added. “And besides, I hired her father. I can’t simply trade one artist for another—not on a project of this importance.”

Although Seth didn’t turn around or glance at Miss Thorebourne, who stood just a small, appropriate distance behind him, he could feel her despair and anger in the space between them. She had truly hoped that his mother would agree to this solution.

And she should have.

Seth wondered suddenly if part of the despair and anger he felt weren’t his own. Miss Thorebourne was an excellent artist. She understood technique and color well, and her painting was easily as impressive as any work of her father’s.

“Elinor has been painting since girlhood,” Henry said. “I know that you expect the best, Your Grace, and I would never vouch for someone who I did not consider to be an excellent choice for this task.”

“She is skilled,” Richard replied.

Did Seth imagine that the man gave his daughter a doubtful glance, as if with all her talent and skill, he doubted Miss Thorebourne? Surely, that wasn’t the case. A person would have to be blind not to realize what beautiful works Miss Thorebourne was capable of creating.

“But she isn’t you,” Seth’s mother countered. “I specifically wanted you and your skills. I like how you paint subjects.”

“Of course,” Henry said. “My brother is quite skilled in his trade.”

Henry’s support of Miss Thorebourne was noble, but Seth knew that his mother could be as unforgiving as the sea on a stormy day. No argument would persuade her. Not from Henry, at least.

Seth dared glance at last at Miss Thorebourne. She held herself tall and straight, her face relaxed and betraying nothing. He liked to think he knew her well enough. She must be angry, offended even. Miss Thorebourne must look at his mother and think that she was like every other person in the world who had told Miss Thorebourne that she wasn’t fit to be an artist.

“That is why I hired him,” the Dowager Duchess said, sweeping an imperious hand towards Richard, “and not his daughter.”

Seth crossed his arms. If there was one person who might be able to persuade his mother to change her mind, it was himself. And he ought to try. Miss Thorebourne deserved this opportunity. She needed this, more than anything. A commission from a Dowager Duchess could draw a large number of patrons to her.

“But,” Seth said, “Miss Thorebourne was trained by her father, and surely, she uses the same techniques she’s learned from him. Mr. Thorebourne has no other students. Surely, that makes her the best candidate for emulating his distinct artistic style, doesn’t it?”

His mother blinked, looking as if she was startled that he’d spoken at all. “Just because she is trained by her father doesn’t mean that she’s any good.”

Seth sensed Miss Thorebourne’s eyes on him. “She is good,” he said. “I’ve personally seen her work, and it’s of the highest quality. Looking at what she’s done, you would never guess that Miss Thorebourne had not received a classical artist’s education.”

“Have you seen much of her work, then?’

“I’ve seen enough of her work to make a fair assessment of Miss Thorebourne’s skills, yes,” Seth replied.

Admittedly, one painting wasn’t much, but he had no doubt that if Miss Thorebourne had painted that nymph, she’d be more than qualified to paint a portrait of himself. At least, she’d be as qualified as her father was. Seth had doubts that any artist would really be successful in depicting him. Artists weren’t accustomed to painting men with scars, much less ones that were as extensive as his own.

Still, his mother looked doubtful. “I’m sure that Miss Thorebourne is as skilled in sketching or painting as—as most ladies, but those skills simply cannot match those earned through training.”

“But she has been trained,” Henry said, “by her father.”

It seemed that everyone in the room looked at Richard, waiting for his assessment. “That is true,” he said reluctantly. “I don’t doubt my daughter’s ability to accomplish this task.”

He doubted something else, though, and Seth wasn’t sure what. Seth did know, however, that this opportunity would mean everything to Miss Thorebourne. He would do everything in his power to ensure that she received it. Besides, what was the point of being a Duke if he couldn’t occasionally do some good for his tenants?

“I can assure you that the estate would be safe for her,” Seth said. “We would ensure that a chaperone was present when Miss Thorebourne paints, so as to leave her reputation intact. And she’ll have her uncle nearby, too, if she needs him. I’d be fully prepared to also arrange some help to you—for your care—should it be required.”

“You sound as though you’ve already planned everything,” Seth’s mother said.

It was difficult to say whether she sounded more surprised or vexed—or a bit of both.

“I’ve come around to your way of thinking,” Seth said, hoping to soothe what might be his mother’s hurt pride. “The portrait is important as is the timeliness of it. I think Elinor painting it is the best solution for us, and if it becomes apparent that she does not have the required skills, we can then begin our search for another artist. But there’s no need to look when we might have an excellent one here already.”

“Assuming Elinor finds the idea agreeable,” Henry said, smiling. “I assume she does.”

“Yes!” Elinor exclaimed, her voice wavering just a little. “Yes, I’m sure I can do what you’ve asked. I would never agree to try and do something which I felt might be beyond my own talents.”

Seth’s mother straightened her back and pursed her lips, seemingly thinking.

“I don’t know whether that’s true or not,” the Dowager Duchess said. “I just—I don’t know if I can really approve of an unknown, female artist painting my son. This isn’t a portrait which is going to be hidden from most eyes. It’s going to be very noticeable, placed where every visitor to the estate can gaze upon it.”

“I know,” Elinor replied.

It seemed like they were repeating the same arguments. Maybe it was time for something different.

“I rather think the portrait could benefit from a woman’s touch,” Seth said.

His mother arched an eyebrow. “And why would that be?”

“You’ve decided that the portrait should be completed before the Season, presumably because you’re intending to show it to all my potential suitors, right?”

Seth wondered distantly if his mother’s intention was to prepare those nobly bred ladies, so they wouldn’t balk when they saw him—and his scars—in the flesh before them.

“Yes.” His mother spoke slowly, as though she suspected a trap and wasn’t certain how to avoid it.

“Then, who better to paint it than a woman? I’m sure that Miss Thorebourne knows far better than her father how to appeal to the fairer sex.”

A heavy silence followed the remark, and Seth wondered if his point hadn’t sounded much better in his own head. He probably shouldn’t have spoken, in hindsight.

“By that logic, I ought to paint your portrait myself,” his mother said.

“Can you best Miss Thorebourne’s brushstrokes?” Seth asked.

The Dowager Duchess stared at him, her eyes searching his face. Seth couldn’t have said what she was searching for or if she found it, but after some time, she looked at Henry. “Do you think Elinor truly has the skills required for completing my son’s portrait? Are you sure that your own fondness for your niece isn’t what’s making you recommend her?”

“I do love Elinor,” he replied. “It’s true that she’s my dear niece. I also know, however, that familial love is no reason for recommending someone. Elinor can do what you need. I promise that, having seen her paint.”

The Dowager Duchess glanced at Seth, who gave her an encouraging smile. He could sense that his mother’s resolve was slowly eroding away like snow melting in springtime. “I will agree on the condition that no one knows we’ve hired a female artist for the task,” she said. “As long as the portrait is completed in her father’s name, I—I will allow Miss Thorebourne the privilege of completing the portrait. If she really does have her father’s skills and is capable of painting in his style, no one should be able to discern the truth.”

It felt unfair. Seth’s stomach twisted with the thought that Elinor would be completing her father’s work and receiving no recognition for her efforts. But it was something, and maybe with time, he’d be able to convince his mother to change her mind.

He glanced at Miss Thorebourne to see if she shared his misgivings. If she did, the young woman hid it well. “I assure you, Your Grace, that my work will be indistinguishable from my father’s. No one will ever notice that two artists worked on the portrait.”

“We shall see,” Seth’s mother replied. “It seems that my son and your uncle both think very highly of your skills. I suppose I can trust them to be honest in their assessment of your work. I shall expect you to begin at once.”

“I am prepared to travel to the estate tomorrow morning,” Miss Thorebourne said, “if necessary.”

“I’ll arrange my affairs tomorrow, so I have time to sit for the portrait,” Seth said.

The sooner they began, the better. If his mother was left to her own thoughts, she might very well change her mind, but Seth knew his mother wouldn’t once she’d seen how good Elinor’s work was.

Miss Thorebourne’s face softened. Her blue eyes were shining with gratitude, and Seth felt a swell of chivalric protectiveness for the young woman. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, Your Grace.”

The whole act of sitting for a portrait was inconvenient, but Miss Thorebourne had nothing to do with that. “You could never inconvenience me,” Seth replied. “I’m eager to begin, too. Perhaps, noon would work for you?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Seth nodded and smiled at his mother. “It appears the matter has been settled, then. We should leave Miss Thorebourne and her father. I’m sure both of them are in need of rest after a long day.”

“I have been told my company is rather draining,” his mother said dryly.

Seth offered his arm, as his mother stood. “I rather meant my company.”

“Nonsense, Your Grace,” Richard said. “The both of you are always welcome in my home.”

“I hope you have a swift recovery,” the Dowager Duchess said. “Then you’ll be able to finish the portrait, and we won’t need Elinor for very long at all.”

Seth felt suddenly rather wretched. It wasn’t that he wanted Richard to be sick for a long time, but he did feel as though the artist’s daughter needed this commission more than he did. She needed an opportunity to prove herself, and that wouldn’t happen in just a handful of days.

Miss Thorebourne opened the door for them. Seth’s mother left first, keeping her hand lightly on her lady’s maid’s arm. A light flush had risen to Miss Thorebourne’s face, and as he passed, she gazed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, so softly he barely heard her.

Seth gave her a small nod, acknowledging her words. Sitting for a portrait wouldn’t be so bad if it was with her. Miss Thorebourne was a charming conversationalist, and in sitting, he’d be helping her. Hopefully, by the time the portrait was completed, he’d have persuaded his mother to allow the young woman her deserved credit for finishing the piece.

“It was good to see you, dear,” Henry murmured.

“And you, Uncle,” Elinor replied.

As Seth approached the carriage, the footman jolted into movement. He bowed and opened the door to admit the Dowager Duchess. Gently, Seth helped his mother seat herself among the plush cushions. The footman would’ve done that, but Seth—of late—was feeling particularly fond of his mother and preferred to aid her himself.

With her seated, Seth lowered himself into the cushions across from her. The footman closed the door. He and Henry would ride with the driver.

“Well, that visit didn’t proceed as I’d planned,” his mother said, without hesitation.

“For better or worse?” Seth asked.

The Dowager Duchess turned her head, her eyes gazing distantly out the windows. “It’s too soon to say, my dear son. I hope you’re correct about Miss Thorebourne’s skills. I’ll be most disappointed if you’ve erred.”

“I haven’t,” Seth replied. “I’m surprised to find you so resistant to the idea of a woman artist. I assumed you’d be pleased with Miss Thorebourne completing the work.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I seem to recall you being a very passionate advocate for women’s independence,” Seth said. “Miss Thorebourne seems like the sort of woman whose endeavors you’d support.”

For a long moment, his mother said nothing. As the carriage jolted into motion, she remained silent. Seth watched her, searching for any sign of her displeasure, but she seemed more contemplative than anything else. At last, she turned her gaze to him and offered a light shrug. “We all change a little, my dear. I don’t regret my past decisions, but I’ve grown less passionate about them over the years. It happens to everyone as they age.”

Seth felt an instinctive urge to argue, to insist that people didn’t become less passionate. Not always. Something about his mother’s statement just seemed false to him, for reasons he couldn’t even express.

“Besides, it’s your portrait. If it were a less important piece of art, I might feel more inclined to embrace Miss Thorebourne and to allow her a chance to prove herself, but this is your portrait. Your first portrait as the Duke of Worthwood. It must be perfect.”

“It will be.”

His mother nodded, as if agreeing, but she didn’t look satisfied with his answer. “We shall see.”

Indeed, they would.

Seth tipped his head back against the cushions, remembering how Miss Thorebourne had looked just as he’d left with her flushed face and sparkling eyes. She was a beautiful woman. It wasn’t really proper for him to acknowledge that she was, but any man would’ve said the same.

“I’m surprised that you argued so strongly for her,” his mother said, her eyes narrowing.

“I’ve seen her work and feel she ought to be recognized,” Seth replied. “That’s all.”

“Is it?”

Seth stared at his mother, uncomprehendingly. “You say that as if you suspect me of lying to you. What are you implying, Mother?”

“Having a female artist will mean that you’re alone with this woman for a long time.”

“With a chaperone,” Seth corrected. “And surely, you don’t anticipate me behaving in an ungentlemanly manner towards this young woman? I like to think that both you, my father, and my dear governess taught me better than that.”

“I don’t anticipate you doing anything ungentlemanly,” his mother replied quickly. “I just know that you and your father both have…very romantic imaginations. That’s all.”

Seth had the sense that his mother was still worried about something she wasn’t saying, that she was haunted by some fear that he just couldn’t grasp. “I assure you, Mother,” he said. “I will behave in a dignified and appropriate manner towards Miss Thorebourne.”

“I know.”

But surely, she wouldn’t have mentioned it if she had known. Seth pressed his lips together, thinking. His mother clearly suspected that something was amiss, but what could it possibly be?