The Portrait by Joan Wolf

Author:Joan Wolf [Wolf, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: regency romance
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2020-10-05T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Two more family members arrived at Camden Hall the following day. Mother’s husband, Sir John Hepburn, arrived from Scotland in time for luncheon, and my brother, Henry, Earl of Mansfield, arrived from Surrey in time for tea.

Sir John was a bear of a man. When Mother stood beside him, she looked like a child. It soon became evident, however, that Sir John adored his wife, and his feeling seemed to be reciprocated. Mother looked radiant, and Sir John was warmly welcomed into our household.

My brother had a different kind of reception. We were at tea in the drawing room, even Margaret was present on this day, when Hobbs appeared in the doorway and intoned, “The Earl of Mansfield, my lord.”

Every head turned toward the door and my brother walked in. The first thing I noticed was his hair. It was ink black and he wore it unfashionably long. Leo rose from his seat by Robert and approached him, hand held out. “I’m glad you could come, Mansfield. Welcome to Camden Hall. I believe you are acquainted with most of the family, but you must let me introduce you to your sister, Lady Isabel Lewins.”

My brother strode across the room and stopped in front of the sofa where I was seated. I had put down my cup of tea as soon as he entered so I was able to extend my hand. Before I could speak a word of greeting, he snapped, “My sister? That is something that remains to be proved.”

The narrowed eyes staring down at me were gray and hard as the rock on Lambourn Downs. I returned my hand to my lap, narrowed my own eyes and held his stare. For a long moment neither of us spoke but we both knew war had been declared.

Leo’s voice broke our stalemate. He said, “Mansfield, permit me to show you the portrait of our great-grandmother that so resembles Isabel.”

Henry swung around and took a few steps toward the wall where the infamous portrait was hanging. He looked for a few moments in silence then shrugged. “There is a certain resemblance; perhaps she does have some Sommer blood in her veins. But she could be the genetic copy of some by-blow your family never knew about. In fact, that’s what she probably is. You will never be able to prove her identity legally.”

Aunt Augusta said in a frigid voice, “Be seated, Mansfield, and do not speak of Isabel as if she were not present. It is very rude, and I do not permit rudeness in my house.”

I thought of the times Aunt Augusta had been rude to me and my jaw dropped. Then I realized—she was defending me. My jaw snapped closed and my eyes widened.

Henry said, “I always thought this was Leo’s house, Aunt Augusta.”

Oh my God, I thought. Twice in two days.

But Aunt Augusta had a champion. His voice frigid, Leo said, “It is my house and Aunt Augusta is my hostess. And if you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head, Mansfield, you had better leave.

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