Page 92 of The Duke Undone

Kate rolled her eyes. Burgess might be the most talented painter of their generation, but he was bacon-brained.

“I’m the Huguenot, obviously,” she said. She pointed. “Maude is the lady.”

“What?” Maude frowned. “No! I want to be on the golden stair.”

“Yes, but your beauty forbids it,” said Kate impatiently. “You’re not meant to be one of many.”

“Oh.” Maude smiled, then caught herself and frowned more severely. “I know better than to listen to you, Kate Holroyd.”

“I wish I had knee garters,” said Kate, looking down at herself. “But if I can borrow a bigger velvet jacket and a hat, I’ll look well enough.”

“You can wear my jacket,” said Burgess. He was laughing again softly. “I’ll hunt down a hat.”

“And me?” Maude demanded.

“You’re going to wear Lucy’s dress.” Kate wheeled around and seized Lucy’s arm. “It’s velvet at any rate, and old-fashioned. And Lucy won’t need it. She’s going to put on a robe and carry a trumpet or a cymbal, like everyone else.”

Oh, was she? Lucy looked daggers at Kate, who was blithely ignoring her agitation.

“Well, that’s settled.” Burgess sprang toward the door. “To the drawing room, gentlemen. The ladies need to transform themselves.”

The gentlemen—and a few larvae from the Lower Painting School—followed.

“Really, the facial expression is the most important part.” Kate approached Maude, who backed up into Susan. Susan gave her a shove, a bit harder than was warranted, and Kate caught her around the neck.

“There,” she said, looking down tenderly into Maude’s outraged face. “I am filled with honor, love, and courage, and you, you are torn between despair and desire. You’re terribly far off, Maude. More longing. Remember, I’m going off to die.”

“Good.” Maude stamped Kate’s foot and Kate dropped her arms.

“Maybe when we’re in costume.” She sighed. The other girls were sorting through robes and instruments.

“Gwen, will you join the pose?” she asked.

Gwen’s head was bowed and she was staring at the violin case propped on the sofa. Her expression was peculiarly intense. She didn’t answer. Kate shrugged and took a flute of champagne from the tray on the table, wandering across the room to inspect the easels. Lucy circled over to the sofa, selecting two small cymbals. Gwen glanced at her. Her hand stroked the violin case.

“I love The Golden Stairs.” Lucy smiled. “Don’t you?”

“I think it’s his best,” said Gwen, smiling back. But her smile faded as she withdrew her hand.

Something saddened her, separated her from other people. It was as though she’d found herself trapped inside a glass bell. The sounds of the outside world reached her only faintly. Lucy looked at her, unsure how to act on what she’d guessed. As she searched for the right words, Gwen turned, grabbed a robe at random, and disappeared behind a mahogany folding screen. Lucy reached for a robe of her own, wedging herself between Maude and Anna Joines, a petite brunette who produced very large historical paintings. She did so just in time to hear Susan’s loud whisper.

“Dildos,” said Susan.

Good Lord, she and Maude were reprising the Feast of Venus.

“Shocking.” Anna shivered, tossing down a silver robe and picking up a golden one. “But I don’t imagine we’ll encounter anything so wicked tonight.”

She sounded slightly disappointed.

“I’ve met the duke on several occasions,” said Maude. “He’s unpredictable.” Her smile was mysterious. “Anything can happen.”

“What happened?” Anna took the bait. “You mean to say . . . you and the duke?”

“Well.” Maude tipped her head. “There was the time we happened to find ourselves together in the Gibson Gallery . . .”

“You were never together in the Gibson Gallery!” Anna gaped.

“Just in passing.” Maude sighed. “It was nothing really. He remembered me, of course, from the party at Constance’s.”