Page 30 of A Misguided Devotion

Hugh puffed out his chest. Was he priding himself on his daughter’s manifold perfections or rejoicing in the artist’s praise of them?

Mr Merry gestured with his arms as he enthused about the location and sprinkled compliments on Laura, who stood as if she were made of stone, silent and still.

“Although it is dusk now, I can see how the light will fill this space and enable me to capture every inch of your matchless beauty on canvas.”

He put his hands on Laura’s shoulders and tilted her toward the window and then back again. Kitty would have laughed at his excessive enthusiasm if her friend had not looked so uncomfortable.

“Yes. You must sit here, with the shutter behind you and the view outside over your left shoulder, and I will set my easel up”—he backed away from her, step by step—“here.”

“It appears you have staged my daughter’s portrait sitting without any intervention from me,” said Mr Barrington. “Let us retire to the drawing room for tea.”

“Then, please excuse us, Papa. We must ensure everything is ready.”

With a nod of approval from Hugh, Laura linked her arm through Kitty’s and almost dragged her out of the library.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered as they walked downstairs. “And please—do not make me talk to him.”

Kitty pursed her lips. How was her friend going to get through hours of sitting for her portrait without talking to Mr Merry? Was it a hardship to be the focus of such a handsome—albeit annoying—gentleman?

A glance at Laura’s pale face squashed all her arguments for adjuring her to be rational. If she was truly bothered by Mr Merry’s attentions, Kitty would endeavour to protect her.

She gave her hand a squeeze. “Trust me. I won’t desert you.”

Laura took up her place by the urn and poured the tea. Kitty stayed by her side and made no complaint when asked to discover how Mr Merry liked his drink, and then to pass him his cup.

Hugh was called away by a footman before he could be served, leaving the three young people alone in the drawing room.

Laura prepared two more cups. After handing one to Kitty, she hovered by the urn, as if hoping it would offer her some protection from Mr Merry.

It did not stop him from addressing her. “Please, take a seat,” he said, waving toward the sofa beside him.

She shook her head.

“Have pity on me, Miss Barrington. You know I can’t sit until you do, and these long legs of mine are weary of standing.”

Kitty suppressed a smile, but rather than be amused, Laura huffed. She strode across the room to the sofa and sat down, hunching herself up toward one end as she had done before dinner, as far away from Mr Merry’s place as possible.

He did not react to her hostile behaviour. Either he hadn’t noticed how averse Laura was to his company, or he’d chosen not to let it bother him. He flicked out his coat tails, ready to sit down beside her, but before he sat, he glanced over at Kitty and paused.

It took her a moment to realise why he was waiting. For her to be seated. A wave of pleasure swept over her at the gentlemanly gesture. It was one thing to be treated as a lady by a man old enough to be her father, but quite another to be shown the same courtesy by such a personable gentleman as Mr Merry.

Laura cleared her throat, reminding Kitty of where her loyalty lay. It was a pity her friend had taken him in such dislike. He had excellent manners.

The admission gave her an idea. Perhaps she could use them against him. “I think you will find this seat much more comfortable.” She indicated a high-backed chair next to the sofa.

“Then I would be loath to deprive you of it.”

Despite her annoyance, her eyes flashed with admiration at his quick reply. “It would be my pleasure to let you have it, sir.”

“As it is mine to allow you to keep it.”

Very clever—but Kitty was not beaten yet. “I have something particular I wish to say to Miss Barrington, and I could do so more easily from your place than from my own.”

Mr Merry hesitated. She could almost see the battle going on within. Would he do the gentlemanly thing and offer her his place? She raised a brow in challenge, and she knew she had won.

“Then, of course, you must take my seat, Miss Lacey. I am sure you are eager to disparage me to your friend, and that is a conversation I would not care to overhear. It would bruise my confidence no end.”

With a smug smile, Kitty took his place next to her friend, who clasped her hands in her own and whispered, “Thank you.”