His words were cut off when she stomped her cane straight down upon his foot. To his credit, he didn’t cry out, but he did wince. And while he was recovering, the countess spoke.
“I do hate it when a man thinks a woman can’t speak for herself.”
Amber had to struggle not to laugh. As it was, she was sure her expression reflected her merriment, and that made the dowager smile.
“Pray, continue,” the woman ordered.
“I grew up in Berlin,” she said, steadily warming to her fantasy. “My family has a moldering old castle in the country, but we rarely go. My great, great grandfather was a younger son, you understand, so the land is not ours and the connection distant. But I did love seeing all the art hanging there when I was a child on holiday.”
“So you live in the city?” the countess asked.
“We do. Papa is politically oriented, serving as secretary to…” She blew out a breath. “Well, it has changed recently as politics are wont to do. Mama helps him and, of course, looks after myself and my two younger sisters.”
“No sons?”
“Alas, no. We are girls sent to find husbands.”
“And so you are here? Visiting your mother’s old friend and hoping to join the society whirl?”
Of course. That had been the fantasy where she ended up dancing with the prince who was not the Prince Regent but someone much more impressive. “Lord Byrn and his family have been so kind.” But since she was not likely to enter the social whirl, she had to give an excuse as to why she would not be showing up at any balls. She leaned forward in a conspiratorial gesture. “May I tell you a secret, my lady?”
“A secret? Well, doesn’t that sound dramatic?”
It did, and the countess loved it. “I am not so good at large parties. We were not in society in Berlin, and I am…” She gave an embarrassed shrug. “I am shy among so many august personages.” She looked down at her sketchbook. “I am much more interested in London’s art.”
“My first ball was intimidating as well,” the countess said. “I was trained as a young girl how to dance and play the harp, but nothing prepared me for the sheer magnificence of it all. So many people all looking at me.”
Amber looked up, able to see it all in her mind. “I’ll wager you were the magnificent one.”
The countess harrumphed, but she was well pleased. “Of course, I was. My father made sure of it by commissioning the painting just before my presentation at court. Everything was done so that I was launched correctly. I caught the earl’s eyes that very evening.”
Amber smiled. “Did he dance with you?”
“Twice,” she said with a fond smile. “I would have danced a third time, but twice was scandalous enough. My mother would have none of it.”
“Oh, tell me everything,” Amber begged. She wanted to know everything from the earliest dance lesson through the color of the gown all the way to what music was played and how each and every gentleman appeared. It was like a fantasy come to life, hearing it from the woman who had done it all. And though part of her had outgrown fairy tales, this was like looking at a childhood dream with entirely new eyes from a lady who had lived it.
So after gentle pleading, the countess relayed her memories in gorgeous fashion. Tea was served and drank, but Amber barely cared. So beautiful was the recitation and so different from anything she had ever experienced in her life. All her daydreams had been of showing up in a lovely gown and dancing. Suddenly, she had details that had never occurred to her before. Hair and gown designs, ways to maneuver her fan, and even how to flirt while still appearing modest. These were things she’d never considered before, and the dowager countess dropped them freely in every sentence.
Until the lady was done. She was tired, it seemed, though her eyes were misty with memories. “Oh my, how you have gotten me talking.”
“I have loved every second,” Amber said with complete honesty.
“Well then, come, come. Give it to me,” the countess said as she waved her hand at Amber’s sketchbook.
What? Oh no!The sketchbook did not show anything of Berlin or Germany. In truth, it didn’t have much at all in the way of portraiture. It was jewelry designs and a few dreams. “No, my lady. Please. I am nothing but a dabbler.”
For the second time that hour, the cane came down with force. Fortunately, Lord Byrn had moved his foot, so he was unharmed. This time, the irritation was directed at Amber.
“Show me, girl. I do not expect you to be Joseph Wright.”
Amber looked desperately at Lord Byrn, and he tried to help. “She is most private about her sketches, Countess.”
“Piffle. Modesty has its place but not right now.” Then she held out her hand, and Amber had no choice but to pass her book over.
“These are new sketches,” she hedged. “Nothing of home.” That was a lie, but a necessary one. She had to explain why all of her sketches were set in London. Then she had to sit there in excruciating silence as the countess paged one by one through her sketches, while Lord Byrn looked over her shoulder.
No one said a word, but their faces were much too expressive. Lord Byrn’s eyebrows rose higher and higher with each page. The countess, however, pursed her lips and frowned as time went on. Amber knew that she had only modest talent with sketches, but she was damned good with jewelry. She had to be. Shemadethe pieces there on the page. The cat cufflinks with diamond eyes and the tiara fashioned to look like ivy with tiny ruby berries. She wasn’t very good with pearls. That was her father’s specialty, but she designed the metal that supported the strands.