The Portrait of a Scarred Duke by Patricia Haverton

Chapter 17

“Good afternoon, Elinor,” Letty exclaimed, taking her usual seat.

Elinor smiled. “Good afternoon. How has your day been so far?”

Three steps took Elinor to her easel, where the Duke’s painting waited. It was still far from completed, but she was pleased with her progress. Elinor would begin defining the color of the Duke’s eyes today. A shiver traced a path down her back, as she thought about his eyes—so green. So sharp and intense.

“It’s been well,” Letty said. “Interesting. We have a guest, which is rare for us.”

“Oh!”

Letty nodded. “It’s an Earl. A close friend of His Grace’s, from what I’ve heard.”

“He may not be sitting today, then,” Elinor said.

If His Grace had a childhood friend visiting, surely he’d want to spend time with him rather than spend his hours sitting for a portrait. It wasn’t as though His Grace was strictly necessary for Elinor to work. Of course, she would like to have him seated before her, but still, she could add some details to the background without him.

And yet I can’t help but wish he was here.

It was a selfish way to feel. She didn’t even know why she felt so strongly about his presence. It was something more than what she usual felt when she painted a subject.

“He hasn’t said he won’t sit today,” Letty pointed out. “Of course, there’s no reason he would tell me, but…well, I would assume he’d tell someone.”

“Maybe so.”

Letty frowned. “I hate that you’d have traveled all this way, though.”

“It’s fine,” Elinor replied.

She sat before her easel and tilted her head, examining the painting from another angle. Soon, she’d begin the scars which layered over the right side of his face, and that would be a challenge. It wasn’t that she doubted her ability to pain them, but rather, that they seemed so important to getting the painting just right.

“How is your father?” Letty asked.

Elinor hesitated. Then, she offered a small shrug. “I’m not sure. His condition hasn’t worsened. The apothecary said that he seems somewhat improved, but I can’t say that I’ve seen that. He tells me not to worry, but I can’t help myself.”

“I don’t think anybody would be able to in that situation,” Letty replied. “It’s hard seeing your loved ones ill.”

“It is. I know he’s in good hands, though. And I like coming here to paint because it helps me not to worry so much.”

“That’s good.”

Elinor smiled and nodded. “Yes. And my uncle is here. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with him, but I haven’t quite gotten the chance yet.”

“Maybe you can visit him one day?” Letty offered. “You can come one day and not even touch the portrait, just to see your uncle.”

And maybe learn what occurred between my father and him.

“That might be worth considering,” Elinor said, arranging her brushes.

It was past time for His Grace—no, for Seth—to have arrived. Her fingers itched to do something. He might have forgotten about her. Surely, Seth wouldn’t even be thinking about portraits when his friend had arrived.

Elinor heard footsteps, but they were too light to be his. Still, she turned a little towards the doorway, hopeful against all rational thought. She didn’t expect the Dowager Duchess and her lady’s maid.

“Your Grace!” Elinor exclaimed, sweeping into a practiced curtsey.

She felt suddenly self-conscious of her stained apron. If she’d known to expect the Dowager Duchess, she might’ve waited to put it on.

Her Grace nodded curtly. “I thought I should come and survey your progress.”

“Of course,” Elinor replied. “I hope there’s enough to survey, Your Grace.”

The Dowager Duchess nodded. She approached the canvas, her lady’s maid following silently in her wake. Elinor scarcely dared to breathe as Her Grace pressed her lips tightly together and gazed at the painting.

Should I say something?

Elinor could tell the Dowager Duchess how she planned to proceed and assure Her Grace that she was qualified to complete the painting. She had an urge to share everything all at once, but Her Grace wasn’t Seth. She surely wouldn’t be as understanding of Elinor’s less than graceful mannerisms.

“It’s beginning to look like him,” Her Grace announced.

“A little,” Elinor replied. “I think His Grace has more depth to his expression.”

The corners of the Dowager Duchess’ mouth curled up, and a startled laugh emerged from between her lips. “A little, I should think!” Her Grace replied, her eyes focused on the portrait’s still flat lips, sketched in eyes, and general flatness.

“When do you anticipate being finished?” Her Grace asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” Elinor replied, “but I’ll definitely have the piece completed before the Season begins, as requested. Even if it requires me to stay late into the night and early morning hours.”

Her Grace hummed thoughtfully. “You are really determined to see this completed, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Elinor replied. “I would always do my best to please a client, particularly one of your high status, Your Grace. I promise that His Grace will look quite dashing, indeed.”

“Dashing,” Her Grace said slowly.

An odd look crossed the Dowager Duchess’ face, and Elinor wondered if she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

“He was a dashing young man,” the Dowager Duchess conceded at last.

“He…” Elinor trailed off.

Her Grace tilted her head towards Elinor. “You were going to say something, Miss Thorebourne?”

“It isn’t my place to,” Elinor said, “but I was going to say that His Grace is still a dashing man. I think the ladies of the ton will think so.”

“I think you really believe that,” Her Grace replied.

“I do.”

Her Grace clasped her hands before her and nodded slowly. “It’s very seldom that I admit I’m wrong, but I will confess that you do seem to be an artist of great talent. I’m quite pleased with your progress, and I think you do your father proud.”

Elinor’s face warmed, and she ducked her head, both pleased and embarrassed with the praise. “I hope so, Your Grace. If I didn’t, I’d have to live with the guilt of having wasted all my father’s efforts, and that would be very terrible, indeed.”

“You’ve a quick wit, Miss Thorebourne,” Her Grace replied.

“Not nearly as quick as yours,” Elinor replied promptly.

“No one has that. Perhaps my son.”

Elinor’s back straightened a little.

Will he be sitting for me today?

His mother would likely know, but Elinor felt it might be inappropriate for her to ask. If Seth wanted to sit, she’d know when he arrived.

“Well, I won’t keep you from your work,” Her Grace replied. “Thank you for your service.”

With a final smile, the Dowager Duchess left, her lady’s maid following three steps behind. Only once Her Grace was gone did Elinor allow herself to breathe more freely.

“That went well,” Letty said.

“It did,” Elinor replied, sighing in relief. “Thankfully. I was worried that she might be displeased with what I have, and I don’t think I’d have been very gracious about it.”

“No?”

Elinor shook her head and lowered herself onto her stool, the same one which had collapsed beneath her when she and Seth first met. Since then, Elinor had managed to repair the poor stool, so it would last a little longer.

“I’m not very good at facing disappointment,” Elinor admitted. “I fear that my temper always gets the best of me. It’s something that my father has told me often enough. He wants me to always be less. Less outspoken, less independent, less womanly, I suppose.”

“That sounds dreadful,” Letty muttered.

“It isn’t,” Elinor replied. “I’m making my own father sound so dreadful. He is a good man, who loves me very much. It’s just that I sometimes wonder if he doesn’t wish he’d had a son instead of a daughter. That’s all.”

Letty rubbed her foot against the back of her ankle. She looked thoughtful. “I’m still sorry to hear it, Elinor.”

Elinor smiled and looked askance. Seth still hadn’t arrived. It seemed reasonable to think that he probably wouldn’t now, and maybe that was for the best. She’d already had an encounter with the Dowager Duchess, and she felt as if she’d just been plunged into cold water and pulled out.

She’d survived that witty, intimidating woman. The Dowager Duchess who hadn’t believed in her, and Elinor knew that if Seth joined her, she’d spend their hours together wondering if Her Grace had really, secretly disliked Elinor and simply been too polite to say so.

“It’s fine,” Elinor replied, forcing her thoughts back to the conversation. “In many respects, my father has been very forward-thinking. He gave me more freedom and encouragement than most fathers would.”

“Like letting you paint His Grace,” Letty said.

Elinor turned her back to Letty and feigned as though she was arranging her brushes again. She didn’t want the maid to see how her face fell. Seth wasn’t coming.

“Yes, like that.”

“How do you feel about him?” Letty asked.

Elinor’s shoulders tensed. Had Letty managed to guess the direction that her thoughts had wandered in? Surely, not.

“His Grace is very gentlemanly,” Elinor said.

That was a safe answer. The Duke was gentlemanly. He was also witty and strong, and there was something deeply vulnerable about him that made Elinor just want to sit and listen with him.

He had a soothing voice, too. Not that Elinor would’ve ever mentioned that to anyone, of course.

“I think that’s all men of the ton,” Letty said. “They’re supposed to be gentlemanly. I think he’s a little odd, personally. Kind, though.”

Elinor bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t sure if maids were meant to be quite so blunt, but that was one of Letty’s more appealing aspects. The young maid was honest and easy to talk to.

“He does seem kind,” Elinor conceded. “Very loved, too. It’s clear that Her Grace cares for him very much.”

“She does,” Letty said softly. “I was surprised that you made Her Grace laugh, as she’s done that so seldom since the late Duke died. And I’ve only ever seen those odd laughs with His Grace.”

Elinor could imagine that. Seth and Her Grace both seemed to be people who enjoyed trading quick, witty barbs with one another. She wondered if the late Duke had been similar in personality.

“It’s sad,” Elinor said. “My impression of Her Grace is that she loved the late Duke very much. It must hurt her so much to have him gone.”

Letty nodded gravely.

Elinor tried not to glance at the door. Seth hadn’t come, and he probably wouldn’t now. Still, she couldn’t help but imagine him arriving half an hour later than he’d promised, disheveled and embarrassed at having forgotten their appointment. It was an appealing image although she couldn’t have said precisely why.

“Do you know much about my uncle Henry?” Elinor asked.

If she didn’t find something to distract her thoughts from Seth, he’d consume her.

But why can’t I keep myself from thinking of him? From being disappointed by his absence? Even if he doesn’t sit today, he will in a day or two. I’ll still be paid even if he isn’t here.

“I don’t,” Letty said. “I’ve only seen him a handful of times. From what I hear, he’s competent.”

“Competent,” Elinor repeated.

Considering her uncle’s position, she supposed that was reassuring, but the compliment didn’t really reveal anything else about her uncle. It didn’t tell her anything she hadn’t already known.

“But wouldn’t you know your uncle better than I do?” Letty asked.

“Not really,” Elinor replied. “We’ve never been close. I like him, and he’s always been nice to me. But that’s all I can say about him.”

“That’s strange.”

“Is it?”

Letty shrugged. “I think it is, but then, my family is very tightly knit. We’re like a tapestry woven together, and we all live on this one street in London.”

“Except for you,” Elinor pointed out.

“That’s true,” Letty replied. “I simply couldn’t refuse this job, though.”

“Did you always want to be a maid?” Elinor asked. “Or to pursue domestic work?”

Letty nodded. “My mother was a maid in her youth, although she was much better than I am. I feel like I’m being assigned to chaperone you and His Grace in part because it’s a position where I can’t cause any damage. I’m dreadfully careless, or so it seems.”

Elinor smiled sympathetically. It was time to admit that Seth wouldn’t be joining them, so she reluctantly began mixing together the green she needed for the portrait’s background. She tried not to think about how she’d rather be mixing the spring-green of his eyes instead.

“Well,” Elinor said. “If the worst should happen, maybe you can try being my apprentice. You can spend your days mixing pigments and making canvas to paint upon.”

Letty laughed. “I appreciate the offer, but I hope I never have to become your apprentice. I’m trying really hard to improve.”

“I’m sure you are improving, too. I feel you’re the sort of person who doesn’t let anything stop you. You just keep trying.”

“You praise me too highly,” Letty replied. “But thank you, Elinor. That’s very kind of you.”

Elinor dipped her brush into the forest green paint. “It’s simply the truth.”

She placed her brush on the canvas, making quick, short strokes. Elinor narrowed her eyes, trying to make her world small, so that only the canvas, the paint, and herself existed in it. It would’ve been better if Seth had been there. He’d have spoken to her while she worked and filled the space with his pleasant, lulling voice.

You are thinking too much about him.

She tried to tell herself that it was because he was the subject of her painting, so it made sense for her to think about him. But deep down, Elinor feared it was something more.

Maybe we could be friends.

Hadn’t he requested that she think of him by his Christian name? That she call him Seth when they were alone? Surely, those were signs of friendship, of companionship. That was why she thought about him so frequently!

Elinor let out a small, breathless sigh. The world seemed to turn and shift, bringing with it startling clarity. She was friends with Seth, or as close to friends as they perhaps could be, considering their different positions.

“Seth,” she murmured, softly so Letty wouldn’t hear.

Still, Elinor felt as though she might burst from joy. She’d never had any friends and few true acquaintances, which might be a better term to apply to her social superior.

“Hm?” Letty asked. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing of importance,” Elinor replied. “I was just talking to myself. Sometimes, that helps me when I’m making art.”

“I don’t believe His Grace is going to sit with you today,” Letty continued.

“No, I don’t believe he is.”

Elinor’s heart sank. She had a brief, appealing thought of leaving the room and asking him if he’d forgotten her, but she knew that was impossible. Even if they were something close to friends—which she suspected they might be—he was still a Duke. An impassable gulf existed between the two of them, and it could never be crossed.