Page 75 of Rescued from Betrayal
“I know. But a good many do. It is not much different than the matrons in London. They love to talk about anything sensational.”
“I will have to take your word on that, for I have never been to London.”
By the time they reached Lady Stanford’s room, Miss Wayland’s eyes were bright with interest at all the things Melior had to tell her of Town. The moment they entered, however, her shoulders sagged. Mrs. Wayland appeared quite poorly.
It was evident after only five minutes that the Waylands would need to leave. The pallor of Mrs. Wayland’s complexion made Melior wonder if she would need to employ a footman to carry the lady out. But when it came time, Mrs. Wayland rallied, rising to her feet and wishing Melior a good day.
Turning to Lady Stanford, she said, “Until we meet again, my friend.”
“I shall meet you soon, Tabitha. Never you fear.”
A shiver ran down Melior’s spine. Something told her they were not speaking of merely having tea again, but she tried to push the impression away.
To her surprise, Mrs. Wayland made it all the way to her waiting carriage, but before she entered, another conveyance pulled up. Lord Newhurst disembarked and greeted the women. His brows drew together when he saw Mrs. Wayland and he insisted she allow him to help her up. She gratefully accepted.
When the lady was settled, he turned his compassionate gaze on Miss Wayland. Melior felt like an intruder as the two stared at one another, so she made her way back toward the house, but not before she overheard Lord Newhurst say, “Is it time?”
“The physician believes so.”
Melior dropped her head, wishing her impression had not been correct.
She waited in the sitting room for Lord Newhurst, sending word to Nathaniel with a footman to alert him of his friend’s arrival. Several moments later, Lord Newhurst entered, his face drawn.
Melior rose. “Is it truly as bad as it seems?”
“What do you know?”
“Only what I can see with my own eyes.”
“Itisthat desperate. I… I do not believe Mrs. Wayland will make it until spring.”
Melior’s heart ached. She knew what it was like to lose someone most beloved.
“Let us not speak of it, though. I came to you for a happy purpose.”
“You did. Have you finished the painting?”
“Not yet, but I thought you might like to have one of the pieces I drew with charcoal.”
Until that moment, Melior had not noticed the satchel he had slung over his shoulder, but when he pulled the thick leather pouch in front of him, it was all she could see. The paper he removed was thick and had a slightly bluish hue. He held it out to her.
Reverently she took it, only when she held it in front of her face it was a blur. Tears stung her eyes as she cursed her vision.
“That must be one incredible piece of art to achieve such emotion,” Nathaniel said from the door.
She glanced up at him, a tremulous smile on her lips. Perhaps he would be able to appreciate it. “Come see.”
He crossed the room to her and took the paper from her hands, silently assessing it. “I can understand your awe.” He held it up to his face. “Does it look like me?”
Melior blinked away her tears. Bless Nathaniel for holding up the picture far enough away for her to see. Lord Newhurst had beautifully captured the moment in the music room when she’d first wished to kiss Nathaniel.
“It is splendid,” she said.
Nathaniel lowered the drawing. “Yes, you have quite outdone yourself, John. I do not think there is a piece of your work that I like more than this one.”
Lord Newhurst smiled. “Even more than my recreation of Michelangelo’s paintings?”
“Especially better than Michelangelo’s. At least in this one the people are all wearing clothes.”
