Page 75 of A Queen's Match
And yet she wanted to.
“I do worry about Missy, running off with Ferdinand like that, so soon after Ducky got engaged. She probably wasn’t thinking clearly.” George’s voice was gruff. “And none of us knows much about Romania, or this Ferdinand fellow. He’s, what? Five years older than Missy?”
Eight,May thought. Guilt fluttered in her chest like a moth.
“I want to make sure Missy wasn’t taken advantage of,” George went on, oblivious to her turmoil. “It strikes me as a bit unfair that she should be forced to marry Ferdinand because she went into the gardens with him in the dark. From the sound of things,hekissedher.”
Missy wanted the attention,May could have pointed out.She is flighty and impulsive. Aren’t you glad you aren’t marryingher?
“I’m sorry,” she said instead.
George’s hand lifted, almost as if he meant to reach out and touch her, then thought better of it.
“It’s sweet of you to say that,” he replied. “But it’s not as if this is your fault.”
How little he knew.
“Please, Your Royal Highness, Your Serene Highness.” Sir John Lavery’s voice was clipped. “I must request that you remain quiet, or our session will take twice as long.”
George inclined his head graciously and resumed his pose, leaving May no choice but to turn and face the easel once more.
“I believe that’s enough fortoday,” Sir John announced, setting his pencil down.
May blinked. The past few hours had passed in a stupor, the only sounds the scratching of charcoal on paper and the rustle of fabric as one of them shifted position.
“What a relief.” George stretched an arm, crushing the ermine trim on the Robe of State. “My legs are prickling with pins and needles.”
“I’m sure they are. You had the more difficult pose by far,” May agreed.
“Yes, it was harder.” George smiled, very softly. “How could I be expected to remain still when you were here distracting me?”
May’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’tflirtingwith her…was he?
“On second thought, I might have preferred to stand,” she declared. “I was in danger of falling asleep for a moment there, and you would have been forced to wake me.” There. That was just playful enough without being reckless.
“I could always do what Grandpapa Albert did when Grannie fell asleep during one of their sittings for Winterhalter.”
“Her Majesty fell asleep in a portrait sitting?” It was so unexpected from the ruthlessly controlled Victoria.
“Oh yes. Grandpapa woke her up by dumping water on her head.”
May was shocked into barking out a laugh. “Don’t eventhinkabout pouring water on me.”
“I can’t make any promises.” George’s blue eyes gleamed.
May loved when she saw this side of him, the George who wasn’t just a dutiful son, always falling in second place behind Eddy. This George was playful and lighthearted andfun.
“Many thanks, Your Royal Highnesses,” Sir John announced, having apparently forgotten that May was only a Serene Highness. “I shall see you again tomorrow—or perhaps your brother, if he becomes available,” he added awkwardly, with a nod at George.
Then to May’s surprise, the artist walked out, leaving them both alone.
May stole a glance around the room to confirm her suspicions, but there were no attendants or maidservants in sight. She and George were totally unchaperoned.
“Should we take a look?” George started toward the easel, the Robe of State dragging behind him.
“Isn’t it bad luck to look at a portrait before it’s finished?”
“Bad luck?” George snorted. “That sounds like a superstitioninvented by Renaissance painters who wanted to keep their patrons away from a work in progress. Artists hate being told what to do.”
