A Lady of Talent Read Free Page A

expenses you consider too plebeian even to contemplate.” His sister’s voice was calm enough, but it was clear from the militant sparkle in her hazel eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw that this was a topic that had been discussed numerous times before without hope of an amicable resolution.
    “Expenses that you are pleased to point out at every opportunity,” her brother replied. “And as I have told you times out of mind, you are concerning yourself over nothing. Paying tradesmen’s bills is simply bad ton. And painting portraits for a living, for someone in our circle, is simply not done, especially if they are portraits of vulgar Cits.”
    “In our circle? Most people who have lost an entire fortune have the good sense not to try to continue to move in our circle as you call it. Most people would adopt the simple expedient of retiring to their estate in the country or removing themselves to the Continent.”
    A barely perceptible shudder shook the Marquess of Shelburne’s well-knit but lanky frame. “Rustication is not my style, and the only habitable place on the Continent is Paris, where everything is just as dear as it is in London. Besides, though they may have tailors equal to ours, their bootmakers and their horses are decidedly inferior.”
    “We could have returned to Naples.”
    “That backwater?” Neville was horrified.
    “Papa did not call it so.”
    “And that is hardly a recommendation for a place. The Pater held some very ramshackle notions about places, indeed—as most people who knew him would undoubtedly agree.”
    “Well, I do not agree. And I do not think it was a backwater, either. There was more culture to be had there, more interesting conversations—especially at Sir William’s—more people of intellectual curiosity than any I have yet had the pleasure to enjoy here.”
    “Hamilton,” her brother scoffed. “Now there was another ramshackle fellow. Artists and grave robbers grubbing around Pompeii like common laborers, and Sir William was the worst of the lot. No, it is far better to be here where I can be tolerably amused, where we’re among people of our own kind, and where we can find you a husband worthy of your heritage. If, that is, you would stop burying yourself in this wretched studio with your paints and your canvases and behave like the gentlewoman you are, by cultivating the acquaintance of the proper sort of people instead of people like him.” Neville indicated the half-finished portrait of Sir Jasper with a derogatory wave of his hand.
    “Do let up, Neville, you—” his sister began, only to be interrupted by a soft knock at the door.
    “Begging your pardon, my lady, but Mr. Tredlow said to bring this to you right away, as it looks rather important.” The fresh-faced young maid held out a silver salver on which lay a note addressed, in a dashing masculine script, to Mr. C. A. Manners.
    “Thank you, Susan.” Barely glancing at the impressive seal, Cecilia tore the note open with little ceremony and, oblivious to the crest embossed on the heavy cream-colored paper, scanned it hastily. “There, Neville, you may rest more easily now, since my new patronage is bound to be rather more to your liking. This is from the Earl of Charrington asking for a moment of my time this afternoon to discuss the commissioning of his fiancée’s portrait.”
    An impish smile hovered at the corner of Cecilia’s mouth as she read further. “He says he got my direction from Lady Cowper, and from the way he is addressing me, it is clear that she has failed to enlighten him as to the gender of C. A. Manners. A very clever woman is Emily Cowper, and a very useful friend indeed.”
    “Charrington, eh?” Neville rose to his considerable height, yawning hugely as he stepped over his discarded magazine and headed toward the door. “A step up from Sir Jasper, to be sure, and of a good enough family, but hardly the best of ton. He is rich as Croesus, they say, but unfortunately,