Lord Sidley's Last Season

Lord Sidley's Last Season Read Free

Book: Lord Sidley's Last Season Read Free
Author: Sherry Lynn Ferguson
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before bowing to her. “Miss
Ware”
    Marian had caught an expression on Sidley’s face
that she attributed to weariness or boredom. She did not
like him to look so-not in her presence-and determined to execute the civilities most speedily.
    “Lord Wilfred, I should like to thank these gentlemen. If you would do the honors?”
    “With pleasure, Miss Ware. Lord Benjamin, Lord Sidley, Lord Vaughn-may I present Miss Ware, cousin to
Lord Formsby and his sister, Lady Katherine.”
    As she curtsied, Marian suspected that the bookseller’s shop had never before seen such an elegantly
synchronized salutation. She quickly proffered her
thanks before Sidley’s companions neatly drew Wilfred
away.
    Sidley fixed his amused gaze upon her. “We meet
again,” he repeated. Though his look was warm, he did not quite smile. “And over”-he peered at the volume on
the table-“The Microcosm of London.” His instant,
backward identification impressed her. “‘Tis beautifully
rendered, but I would recommend touring the city’s treasures in person. You have not been here long, have you,
Miss Ware?”

    “Just this fortnight,” she said, troubled by her breathlessness. “I am here to study.”
    “And what do you study?”
    “Painting-drawing …”
    “You are an artist.”
    Marian might only have imagined the faint query in
his voice, but her chin rose all the same. “I am learning,
my lord.”
    Again she read the amusement in his gaze.
    “We cannot all be Van Dycks, Miss Ware,” he conceded, and this time he did smile. “You must have your
family-you must have Lady Formsby take you to Ackermann’s on one of their open evenings.” Sidley gestured
to the book. “You might see these prints as originals.”
    “I would enjoy that”
    “And perhaps, since you are an expert, I might consult you with regard to my own choice of portraitist. ‘Tis
a pressing matter, I assure you. I am informed I must
commemorate myself and otherwise leave my mark.
Nollekens shall do my bust”-he made a point of yawning over the selection of such a celebrated, and expensive, sculptor-“but I am distracted by choice with regard
to my portrait.”

    Marian regarded him closely, and with some skepticism. She wondered if he merely made polite conversation; it was beyond belief that he might truly desire her
opinion. Surely he had no end of people with whom he
could consult. And in her estimation no competent
artist could harm him, for aside from an unusual pallor
he looked superb.
    She thought with some impatience that he no doubt
knew very well how he looked-and wished to look
more so.
    “There is always Mr. Thomas Lawrence-” she began.
    “I am not that vain, Miss Ware” His gaze, which she
noticed was vividly blue, laughed at her, such that she
could not prevent the pert thought that he seemed vain
enough.
    His fine eyebrows arched. “D’you know, Miss Ware,
you have such a remarkably expressive face, I believe I
might guess at your thoughts” As her color rose, he
added, “Though perhaps not. In any event, I have decided
against Lawrence. I do not seek embellishment, merely
a record.”
    “You are also a student of the arts, my lord?”
    “Indeed, Miss Ware. Though my talent is, alas, simple
appreciation. But I am fortunate to possess a family collection of some quality. Perhaps one day you might
pardon me, Lord Formsby might allow me to introduce
you to it.” He seemed only then to become conscious
of the crowd around them. “How they do gawk,” he remarked flatly.

    “You have just insured they have something at which
to gawk”
    Again his laughing gaze turned to her. “You reprove
me?”
    “My lord, I beg your pardon-”
    “Do not apologize. It does not suit you-as it suits
Mr. Pinxton.” He surveyed the crowd again. “Society is
an ill-trained beast, Miss Ware, that must be tugged into
line now and then, like a hound upon a leash”
    “And you would do the tugging, Lord

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