“Very well, then, I shall use it with honor. And we shall be friends, Ana. I can feel it. You have the most inquisitive expression and those green eyes of yours fairly sparkle with high spirits and humor.”
Dex regarded the two ladies beaming at each other. He’d suspected they would feel an immediate kinship, both being creative souls who foolishly loved to see the good in people. “Be warned, Thea, she’s writing a novel and everything she experiences in society may end up in her pages. Watch what you say, else you might find yourself prominently featured.”
“I’ll be on my guard.”
“She probably has a pencil concealed somewhere in that knot of curls,” Dex couldn’t help saying, eyeing her gold-red hair with trepidation. “To take notes with.”
“Whatever makes you say that, Your Grace?” Miss Crewe countered with an air of innocence, contradicted by a quick pat to the part of her coiffure that did, indeed, hold such an implement.
Thea regarded them quizzically.
“When I first met my ward, there was a bit of a misunderstanding. She found the sight of me terrifying and attacked me with a pencil she had hidden in her coiffure,” Dex explained. “I still have the scar.” He touched the place on his cheek. The mark she’d left on him. The visible one, at least.
“I wasn’t terrified of your appearance. I thought you had been sent by a brothel keeper.”
“Truly?” Thea’s eyes widened. “There’s a very interesting story here, I feel certain.”
“One that must never be spoken aloud,” Dex reminded Miss Crewe with a frown. She was free with her mentions of brothels in public.
“Ana.” Thea took her arm. “Is there, perchance, a brooding duke in your novel who gives stern commands?”
Miss Crewe’s cheeks flushed a fetching shade of pink. “Thevillain is rather ill-tempered and given to expressing himself with grunts and growls.”
Thea giggled. “And the hero?”
“He converses most eloquently and with ease on topics ranging from his childhood to his taste in poetry. He’s always complimenting the heroine and acquiescing to her every whim.”
Dex snorted. “Sounds like a right ninny.”
He ignored the pang that struck his chest when she’d all but described him as a villain. Was that truly how she saw him? He’d try to be more agreeable this evening. After all, it was her first foray into society. Observing her obvious delight in making new acquaintances was, dare he think it, heartwarming. The pale pink of the simple gown she wore matched the roses in her cheeks. Her hair caught the candlelight and matched its flame, and she gazed about her with bright eyes eager for new sights.
“Your salon is beautiful, Thea. Who are the artists represented this evening?”
“I specialize in displaying new works by female artists. And here’s one of them right now! Lulu, my dear, come join us and meet Analise Crewe, Warburton’s ward.”
Lulu, the younger sister of Charlene, Duchess of Harland, approached them with a wide smile. With her red-tinged hair and wide hazel eyes, she could have been Miss Crewe’s sister. She stared at his ward with astonishment writ across her face.
“Why, we’re already acquainted,” Miss Crewe said wonderingly. “You painted my portrait several years past.”
Lulu clapped her hands with genuine joy. “It’s you! My first real commission! My art instructress, Mrs. Hendricks, was taken suddenly ill and I stepped in and completed the work. You were a pleasure to paint. Do you still have the miniature portrait?”
“My father took it with him to war, and it was lost for several years.” Miss Crewe’s expressive face registered a momentary sadness, then brightened with effort. “That is, until Warburton returned it to me.”
“It was Lieutenant Crewe’s most treasured possession and a beautiful piece of work,” said Dex. “I was extremely gratified to be able to reunite the painting with its subject.”
“Then your father . . . ?” Lulu asked with a somber expression.
“He went missing after a terrible battle.”
“I’m dreadfully sorry. He was such a kind gentleman. Did you know that he insisted on paying me twice the fee?”
“That doesn’t surprise me, although I like to speak of him in the present tense, if you don’t mind? He’s missing, not confirmed to be dead.”
“Ah, of course. An important distinction. He’s a congenial man and I was so lucky to paint you. Such a rewarding experience—my first real earnings as an artist! You and your father gave me the confidence to continue with my art.”
“I should love to display the portrait,” Thea spoke decisively, obviously enchanted with the conversation. “Your first work should be hung with your other portraits. Would you mind parting with it for a short period, Ana?”
“I’d be honored. Lulu, how wonderful that you continued painting. I’ve often wondered about how you were getting on.”