Free Rogue Grooms by AMANDA MCCABE Page A

Dalrymple?—continued. “You have captured the scene so beautifully. Is it perhaps available for purchase, Mrs. Beaumont?”
    Georgina shook her head. “I fear not. That was done only for my own pleasure. As was that one.” She indicated her other work on display. It had the setting of the same terrace, but it was a solitary portrait of Carmen. A tall, raven-haired, striking Spanish woman, she was posed dramatically against the white marble of the terrace in a mantilla and gown of black lace.
    Georgina had resisted all the efforts of Carmen’s husband to buy it from her. There was something about it that reminded Georgina so poignantly of her days following the drum on the Peninsula with Jack.
    “An excellent likeness of Lady Clifton,” Lady Dalrymple said. “Such a pity neither of these works are available! Perhaps, however, you will be in London long enough to begin a new work? I had been thinking of a new portrait of myself, to present to Lord Dalrymple on our anniversary.”
    Georgina smiled, sensing a new commission. “Perhaps, Lady Dalrymple, you would permit me to call on you some time next week, so we may discuss it further?”
    “I would be ever so delighted, Mrs. Beaumont! Now, I must go and speak with Lady Elizabeth. Her salon has been such a quiz!”
    Georgina watched her leave, then turned back to her own painting. It truly was a scene of great marital harmony; Nicholas standing behind Elizabeth, his hand on her shoulder as he looked down at her open sketchbook. Little Isabella cuddled on her father’s lap, while her mother leaned forward to tie her little slipper ribbon. Lady Kate dozed contentedly in a patch of sunlight.
    A perfect instant, captured forever.
    Georgina loved it, this scene of her dearest friends. It cheered her immensely; yet it also made her feel rather wistful. Lonely, even.
    “It is truly exquisite,” a man said from behind her.
    Georgina looked over her shoulder, and gave a small cry of delight. “Alex! You have come.”
    “Yes. I do apologize for my lateness.” He moved up beside her, peering closely at the painting with his quizzing glass. “I am just an old army man, of course, and know little about art. But I can truly say that that is one of the loveliest paintings I have ever seen.”
    Georgina had received many compliments on her work over the years, many of them from more knowledgeable critics than this one. None, though, had ever made her feel like crying with utter joy.
    Just as his compliments on her beauty had made her feel like giggling and blushing.
    “I thank you,” she said. “This is my favorite painting I have ever done; it brings me great happiness.”
    He nodded. “A scene of great beauty. I can see why it would make you happy just to look at it.” He looked down at her, and smiled. “Though I do wonder, Georgina, why you looked so sad as you examined it a moment ago. Was there a flaw that you just detected?”
    Georgina’s gaze flew up to his. “I did not—how did you... ?”
    “Oh, I have a rather embarrassing confession to make,” he said with a rueful little laugh. “When I first came in, I stood over there and watched you in secret for a moment.”
    Georgina looked away, flustered. And very pleased. “Alex, how silly! Why would you do that?”
    “Because you looked so very pretty,” he said softly. Then his jaw tightened. “That was a very clumsy compliment. Forgive me.”
    “What is there to forgive? First you admire my painting, then you say I look pretty. Such calumny!” she teased.
    He smiled, and turned rather awkwardly to the portrait of Carmen. “Is this your only other work displayed?”
    Georgina nodded, letting him change the subject. “Yes. Do you know the Countess of Clifton?”
    “I have met her once or twice. She was of invaluable service to us during the war.”
    “She is a very fascinating person, and a joy to paint. I think she has passed on her beauty to Isabella!”
    “So she has. But I am rather surprised,