A Lady's Book of Love_Daughters of Scandal by Louisa Cornell

Author:Louisa Cornell [Cornell, Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scarsdale Publishing, Ltd
Published: 2018-05-21T16:00:00+00:00

***

The noise of chattering aficionados milling about the Great Room of the Royal Academy made conversation pointless. The tromp of boots and slippers on the wooden floors put him in mind of a garden party invaded by a herd of horses. Arthur had little need to speak to his bride. She wore her every thought in her eyes and expression. As beautiful as she was in the throes of passion, in the presence of art, she shone like sunlight on water.

He’d raced to keep up with her as they ascended the curling staircase higher and higher to the domed chamber where those paintings deemed worthy by the Academy covered the walls to the ceiling. And now he followed her a few paces behind in order to study which paintings drew her eye. She’d opened and closed both the guidebook he’d purchased and her sketchbook a number of times before she finally settled into place on the tufted circular bench before a Turner seascape. Arthur took up a position just over her left shoulder in an attempt to sneak a peek at her work.

Warren had shown him the first two of the board-bound pads of paper he’d found when packing up her library. Arthur had a fair eye for art. He at least knew the difference between creative talent and the sort of talent it took to recognize another’s genius and copy it. Warren, whilst no philistine, had little use for art of any kind, yet he’d remarked on Emmaline’s sketches.

“She draws people and things the way they are. She doesn’t smooth the edges.”

Arthur had to agree with him. There was an honesty in her work. It bordered on the brutal without ever crossing over, as if she found some small redeeming quality in even the most hopeless of things. He started to look over her shoulder once more when he heard his name in a conversation to the left of Emmaline’s seat. Two women, friends of his mother’s whose names fortunately escaped him, did a poor job of disguising their observation of Emmaline whilst she worked. Thank God, her attention was riveted on the painting she’d chosen to sketch. He only heard bits and pieces of the women’s conversation, but enough to know they disapproved of everything about her, from the style of her pinned up hair to the crushed rim of the bonnet at her feet.

He scowled in their direction, willing them to see him. When they did, he gave them his least polite bow, never changing his expression. They scurried toward the staircase.

“That was poorly done of you, Captain. You frightened them even more than my best dress and ugly half-boots. Those ladies are probably someone’s mothers,” his new wife said, even as she continued to sketch.

“Then let us hope their children are raised by nannies and governesses who are capable of teaching them manners.”

“Is that who raised you?” She rose, closed her book, and shook out her skirts.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He plucked the sketchbook from her hand and turned toward the back pages.

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