Page 54 of Miss Devoted
“You went parasol shopping last week, ma’am.”
“And found nothing to my taste. Spring will soon be here, and a lady must be fashionable.”
Kevin grinned, waved the note, and spun on his heel. He did not walk when he could sprint. Time would cure him of that exuberance.
“The prudent thing to have done,” Psyche muttered as she scraped her palette and cleaned her brushes, “was to decline this outing. The light only lasts so long, and the invitations are already beginning.”
Not the flood that would ensue in a few weeks. A card party here, a ridotto there, nothing formal or fancy, but all of it requiring time and energy.
Psyche left two windows cracked to provide some ventilation and repaired to her bedroom, only to find the space occupied.
“Shall I summon the watch?” Psyche asked. For Hazel to intrude was uncharacteristic.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, opening a drawer in Psyche’s vanity. “You werepainting,and on such a glorious, tempting day. I thought to borrow your sapphires.”
“For daytime?” One did not wear jewels by daylight in the normal course.
“Only the earbobs. They bring out my eyes.”
Magnificent eyes they were too. “You’re going driving?” The carriage parade would not start for a few hours, such as it was this early in the year.
Hazel set Psyche’s jewelry box on the vanity. “An early gesture in the direction of the carriage parade, and then who knows what a pair of creative minds might get up to? Lord Shreve is the friendly sort, and we have interests in common.”
Shreve was the third son of a marquess, an MP with more than token reformist leanings. He was also five years Hazel’s junior and a fine-looking specimen.
“Spring is in the air.”
“Not quite,” Hazel said, fishing out the sapphires. The gold settings winked in the midday sun, and mischief gleamed in Hazel’s eyes. “But right around the corner. Don’t wait supper on me.”
“Bring him up to see your portrait,” Psyche said. “As it happens, I’m going out too.”
Hazel slipped the earbobs into a pocket. “Sketching?”
Psyche shook her head. “I’m meeting Mr. Delancey for a walk in the park.” Not quite the whole truth, but close enough.
“How dreadfully dull, but better than breathing paint fumes all afternoon.”
“Time with Michael is never dull. He listens, Hazel, truly listens, and when I expect platitudes and pleasantries, I get considered answers, caring replies.” Psyche sank onto the chest at the foot of the bed. “He encourages me. Says my talent should not be hidden under a bushel basket, and yet, he also argues with me.”
Hazel took the place beside her. “You’ve fallen for him. What have I told you about dallying, Psyche? One can be friends, one can and should be fond and attracted, but one must guard one’s heart.”
“Michael doesn’t guard his, and that… I have never met a man so possessed of courage and integrity. So fierce. He inspires me to be fierce, and I’m not ready for that.”
“You’d rather slink about as Henderson, sketching in coffee shops and sitting at the back of the classroom?”
Psyche would rather be Mrs. Michael Delancey, and that was impossible. “I could set up a studio in Rome, Hazel. My Italian is passable.” While the thought of another social Season wasted on inanities… And yet, the Season was when many a fashionable sitter was available in Town and happy to grant commissions.
“Why not marry him, Psyche? He wouldn’t be the first parson to take on a wife of means.”
“He won’t ask me. In the past, he made some choices that, if revealed, could reflect poorly on him.” Could see him disgraced, defrocked,hanged. “He will not risk my prospects, as limited as they are, for so paltry a thing as worldly security.” Michael hadn’t said as much, but his reasoning had been evident in his silences and in his praise for her painting.
Hazel rose. “To shield you from his past is quite noble, but if he truly listens as you say, then he ought to be discussing the whole business with you. Not strutting around under a figurative halo until it’s time to come by for a Thursday night modeling session.”
“That is unfair. Michael has a vocation, Hazel. A true vocation.” Not for standing around in the churchyard exchanging pleasantries, but for saving lives and inspiring others to save lives. “His work is here, not lounging around my studio in Rome or Paris.”
“Then stay here,” Hazel said. “You don’t have to remove to the Continent.”
“If I want to be taken seriously, I do.”
