Free A Lady of Talent by Evelyn Richardson

gentleman.”
    “Certainly. But I just paid Weston’s bill, and I am quite certain that it included a blue jacket of Bath superfine.”
    “Of course it did, but one cannot show up in the same attire day after day. Speaking of which, I ought to accompany you to Bond Street and see to it that you find some toggery for yourself.” He cast a disparaging eye over her morning dress of lavender sarsenet, which was plain to the point of severity. “Look at you! Not an ounce of lace or ruching, and a color that went out of fashion quite three years ago. If you are not to look a complete dowd, you must have something in lemon or primrose muslin. I insist on taking you to Madame Celeste’s myself, for that is the only way we are going to get you rigged out in proper attire.”
    “And pay for it how?” Totally unimpressed by this generous offer, his sister had turned her attention back to The Times, which she had been perusing before he had appeared at the breakfast table. “Besides, Miss Wyatt is coming for her first sitting today and I must make sure that everything is all in order.”
    “Ah, the beauteous Miss Wyatt” had been her brother’s only comment, but there had been a gleam in his eye that, coupled with his unexpected appearance in her studio later that afternoon, now seemed decidedly suspicious.
    But Cecilia, busy putting the finishing touches on her preliminary sketch of the lady in question, had no time to dwell on the question of her brother’s erratic behavior. “There.” A few more strokes to add definition to the chin and Cecilia stepped back, well satisfied with the day’s work.
    She turned to Barbara. “I believe that I now have enough to begin painting. I shall send a note around to you when I am ready for your next sitting, but I believe I should not have to do that for at least a week.”
    Barbara rose and, drawing on her gloves, smiled slyly. “But surely I shall see you and your brother a good deal before that.”
    Cecilia stared at her blankly.
    “At Almack’s. After all, your brother has claimed at least one dance with me.” Barbara smiled, serenely confident in her belief that the combination of Neville’s persuasiveness and the allure of Almack’s would overcome any nonsensical objections that Lady Cecilia might raise to what she would undoubtedly consider an evening wasted in London’s most celebrated assembly rooms.
     

Chapter Nine
     
    Left in peace to begin serious work on her latest commission, Cecilia found herself unable to plunge into the project. Her thoughts kept returning to her earlier conversation with the portrait’s subject. How was she to capture the essence of Miss Wyatt for posterity if, in fact, there was any essence, much less the character and spirit that Miss Wyatt’s fiancé considered to be the hallmarks of a portrait painted by C. A. Manners?
    Cecilia studied her sketch thoughtfully. There had to be something more to Miss Wyatt than her undeniable beauty and her obsession with all things fashionable. Surely there was something there besides the obvious—something deeper that had attracted and held the attention of a man like the Earl of Charrington.
    Cecilia was still mulling over her unexpected encounter with the Earl at Somerset House. At the end of their first meeting, she had ultimately and reluctantly admitted him to be a man of intelligence, or certainly keen powers of observation. That concession in and of itself had been difficult enough, for she would have preferred to dismiss him as simply a wealthy, quietly elegant man of the world and nothing more. But there had been something about Sebastian, Earl of Charrington, even at that initial introduction that had drawn her to him and made her uncomfortably aware that he was a man to be reckoned with.
    Their subsequent meeting had only served to strengthen her first impression. Now Cecilia was not only drawn to him, she was intrigued by him. Not only was he a clever and astute observer, which he had