Page 36 of A Misguided Devotion

“Don’t take your blessings for granted, Mr Merry. You do not know when they might be taken away. Examine your heart. Which would cause you greater pain—the loss of a parent or sister, or the loss of your right hand?”

Mr Merry said nothing for several moments. When he spoke again, it was in a much lighter tone.

“What prettily turned ankles you have, Miss Lacey. What a shame the picture is only three-quarter length and so does not merit their inclusion.”

His remarks made Kitty wish to tuck her feet away under her dress, but she set no store by the compliment. It was an effort to distract her from more serious topics. She allowed him to succeed.

His reaction showed that her words had twinged his conscience. And if that was the case, there was hope they might do some good. Only time would tell.

After clearing away his paints, William stood for a long while, staring out the windows of the Long Gallery, mulling over what Kitty had said. Each of her accusations had stung him like a mosquito, leaving an itch that would not cease.

He had claimed that pursuing his passion for art was not hurting anyone, but the image of Father’s disappointed face had sprung to his mind, and now it wouldn’t go away.

Was it so unreasonable to have refused his request? It was only for a time. He would return home and help. Make him proud. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Of course, his family was more important to him than his right hand. How dare Kitty suggest otherwise?

But he needed to paint this portrait. Even if he disappointed Father for a while.

Having dressed for dinner, William descended the stairs to the drawing room. He was not surprised Miss Barrington failed to join them. She still claimed to suffer from the headache which had prevented her from posing for him. An indisposition—real or not—that he had induced by forcing her to sit for her portrait, when she didn’t want to.

“I regret that Laura’s illness has delayed the start of your painting,” Mr Barrington said.

William lifted his brow. Did the man not realise Kitty had posed for him instead? He shot a glance across the room at her, but she failed to meet his gaze. It did nothing to lift his spirits.

He shifted his attention back to his host. “You need not apologise, sir. I was able to have a day’s painting without her.”

“I am delighted to hear it, but I hope you can make a start on Laura’s portrait tomorrow.”

“You mistake me, Mr Barrington—”

A movement caught his eye. Kitty was shaking her head, ever so slightly. Why did she always disapprove of him?

William brushed the thought aside. “Miss Lacey took her place, and I made excellent progress with your daughter’s portrait, whilst she lay on her sickbed.”

“I don’t understand. Catherine looks nothing like Laura.”

“The most prestigious portraitists rarely paint the entire picture. They have a school of artists at their disposal trained to portray the clothing and the scenery, leaving the master to complete only the most skilled areas—the face and hands. These people don’t work with the subject of the portrait, and I did likewise. Miss Lacey wore one of Miss Barrington’s gowns, allowing me to create the setting for your daughter’s incomparable beauty without her presence.”

William glanced across the room at Kitty again. Her frown implied he had said the wrong thing.

He jerked his eyes back to Mr Barrington, expecting to see the unctuous smile that he regularly bestowed on him, but instead, the man’s mouth was pinched together. It was the first sign of displeasure on his host’s countenance that had ever been directed at him, and he found it unnerving. Couldn’t he please anyone today?

In a moment, the smooth beam was back on Mr Barrington’s face. “That was most gracious of you, Catherine. I am sure Laura will be delighted you have saved her some hours of sitting still when she takes your place tomorrow.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go into dinner?”

William trailed behind Mr Barrington and Kitty along the corridor to the dining room. After her revelations about how alone she was, the sight made him uncomfortable.

The man was staking his claim on her, but why? Was it to ensure William focused his attentions on his daughter, or did he want Kitty for himself?

Chapter 11

Kitty was rapidly losing patience with her friend. Mr Merry had been painting for less than half an hour, and Laura was already complaining.

“How much longer before I may have a break?” she asked, wriggling in her seat.

“I am working as fast as I can, Miss Barrington,” Mr Merry said, although the question had not been directed at him. “I will make more progress if you hold your position. Every time you move your head, the curls fall differently around your face.”

Laura scowled and continued to address her conversation to Kitty. “I don’t know how you sat still for so many hours yesterday. My back is aching.” She rose from her chair. “I must get up and walk about.”

She linked her arm with Kitty’s and strolled down the room away from Mr Merry. “How did you cope with him staring at you like that?”