Page 50 of Portrait of a Lady
“Deciding not to allow Father and Marcus to dictate my actions any longer,” she declared with a sniffle. “It’s been too long and I feel perfectly ghastly for allowing them to keep me from you. It ends now.”
Hugh raised his eyebrows, surprised by what he was hearing. “And what of Father? He will not be happy—”
“I do not care how he feels, and Marcus may go to the devil. I am a married woman now, and the two of them no longer have any say when it comes to how I live my life.”
This was the Melanie he knew and loved. As the youngest of the family, they had always been close, as well as the two most likely to rebel. Melanie was outspoken and independent much to the chagrin of the earl, who’d insisted such traits would see her die a spinster. She’d proven him wrong by marrying a marquis last year in a lavish ceremony at St. George’s. Hers had been the best match among his sisters, and even from afar he’d been proud to learn that she had proved their father wrong.
“And what of your husband?” he teased. “What would he have to say about you turning up here?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “The man is batty for me, lets me do whatever I please. I’d say he’d be happy that I am happy. Anyway, I heard your splendid news and thought to come congratulate you myself.”
He frowned, knowing word of which artists had been selected wouldn’t be so widely known yet. “How did you find out?”
She gave him a sad smile. “Mother. You know she’s never forgiven father for casting you out, but would never go against him by reaching out herself. But, she has her ways. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone in your household wasn’t being paid to feed her information about how you are getting on. We are both so happy for you. Having your work displayed in the Exhibition has been your dream for so long.”
“Yes,” he agreed, with far less enthusiasm than he ought to feel. “Thank you.”
She frowned studying him with a critical eye. “You do not look very pleased about it. In fact, you’re a mess, Hugh. What on Earth is the matter?”
He shook his head, wandering over to his table to fiddle with a paintbrush. He needed to occupy his hands to keep himself from falling to pieces over Evelyn.
“It is nothing. Tell me everything about your new life with the marquis. We can go into the salon and I’ll send for tea.”
She took hold of his arm before he could brush past her, halting him in his tracks. “Now, wait just a moment. Something really is wrong, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you this upset since Ferdinand.”
He groaned at the thought of his childhood pet—a cat named Ferdinand who had wandered off from the manor one day never to return. Just now, it hurt as much as it ever had.
“You always did know how to twist the knife in a wound, Mel. In short, no I am not all right, but I will be. There was a woman...now there isn’t. That is all I’m ready to discuss at the moment.”
Giving him a pitying look, she looped her arm through his and let him guide her from the studio. “I daresay we ought to forget the tea and send for brandy, but you smell as if you’ve already got half a bottle in you.”
“You can have all the brandy you want, but I have had quite enough,” he said, pressing a hand to his roiling stomach.
They settled in the salon with the refreshments Hugh had sent for, their easy camaraderie as strong as ever as they traded stories about the past few years of their lives. He was delighted to learn that her marriage had been a love match, and that she was truly happy with her marquis. She had not told anyone yet, but she suspected she might be with child. She practically glowed as she told him her happy news, which only reminded him of the joy that had been within his grasp, but that he’d lost due to his own stupidity.
After she’d gotten him up to speed on the happenings of her life, she slouched on the sofa beside him with a heavy sigh.
“Hugh, how can you ever forgive me? We were always close, and when Father made it clear we were to have nothing more to do with you, I stood back and let it happen.”
“You did not stand back and let it happen...you gave Father what for. I remember that part of it very clearly.”
“It wasn’t enough. I ought to have done more, perhaps convinced Marcus and the others that together we might present a united front. He cannot disown all six of his children.”
He rested a hand atop hers and gave her a grateful smile. “It is in the past, and the only one of my siblings I ever blamed for any of it is Marcus. He more than any of you could have tried to put a stop to it. But Father made his choice, and I made mine. I do not regret it.”
“I should say not,” Melanie drawled, leaning over to nudge him with her shoulder. “After this Exhibition you’ll be a famous, renowned artist. Father and Marcus may split their humble pie, and I will serve it up myself!”
She clasped his hand, suddenly serious.
“I am so proud of you,” she whispered. “If no one else tells you that, know that I am. So, so proud.”
Her declaration brought Evelyn to mind and her impassioned vow to be there for the Exhibition. Now, he knew not to expect her to come. Why should she? She had no reason to want to be there for him after the things she’d heard him say.
“Will you come?” he asked. “To the Exhibition? It would mean the world to me for you to be there.”
That way, he could look into the crowd and see the face of at least one person he loved. Melanie leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
