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‘‘He’s not nude,’’ Corinna pointed out, feeling a bit queasy. ‘‘He’s wearing trousers.’’
‘‘Very tight ones,’’ her sister agreed. ‘‘He’s absolutely . . .’’ She blinked. ‘‘Dear heavens, don’t you just want to take a bite out of him?’’
Well, yes, as a matter of fact . . . but Corinna wasn’t sure she liked her sister speaking of biting the man she loved. And Juliana was still staring.
‘‘He’s compelling,’’ her sister murmured now. ‘‘I cannot seem to take my eyes off of him.’’ But she did, finally meeting Corinna’s. ‘‘It’s magnificent, Corinna. You’ve always done good work, but this is spectacular.’’
Corinna’s breath went out in a rush. ‘‘Do you really think so?’’
‘‘I know so. It’s groundbreaking.’’ She shifted her gaze back to the painting. ‘‘Why did you not want Mr. Delaney to see it?’’
‘‘Does it not . . . remind you of anyone you know?’’
Juliana tilted her head. ‘‘Blond hair and brown eyes. That’s an unusual combination, isn’t it? I don’t think so.’’
Corinna had counted on no one looking past the coloring, but she must not have been completely convinced, because relief sang through her veins now. ‘‘I feared Mr. Delaney would find it shocking, that’s all. His father was a vicar, you know.’’
‘‘Really? I know very little about him.’’
‘‘I don’t know much about him, either,’’ Corinna said, averting her gaze.

 

Chapter Forty-five
In the wee hours, the earl died.
He slipped off peacefully, leaving the world in his sleep as Lord Stafford had said he would. One instant his breath rattled noisily; the next he went eerily silent. Sean and Deirdre both held their own breath for a tense moment, then turned to each other, embracing and holding tight. Deirdre’s tears wet her brother’s shirtfront, but they were quiet tears. Tears born of grief mixed with relief.
Sean felt exactly the same.
He sat by the earl’s side the balance of the night, because it seemed like the right thing to do. And because he wasn’t ready to begin what he needed to do next. Because eventually he would finish with that.
And then . . .
Dawn was a faint glow through the bedroom window when the household stirred to life. Mrs. Skeffington appeared on the threshold, holding a ewer of fresh water. ‘‘Is he . . . ?’’
‘‘Gone,’’ Sean said quietly. ‘‘With the angels.’’
A sound of sorrow escaped her throat, and she turned and fled, returning a few minutes later with Higginbotham.
‘‘My lord,’’ the steward said, ‘‘what shall we do?’’
For a moment Sean was nonplussed. He wasn’t a lord; he didn’t belong here. But Higginbotham didn’t know that, of course, and no one else at Lincolnshire House did, either. The lot of them wandered at loose ends, passing by the earl’s chamber as though they were all ghosts themselves.
When Sean failed to respond, Higginbotham released a shuddering breath. ‘‘There must needs be funeral arrangements, and—’’
‘‘I’ll see to everything,’’ Sean assured him. It would be a busy morning.
And then . . .
‘‘Thank you, my lord earl.’’ Higginbotham forced a wan half smile of gratitude. ‘‘I fear I am . . . numb.’’
Sean wished he could say the same. He wasn’t numb. Pain suffused every fiber of his being. He had to force himself to move, to do what needed to be done.
And then . . .
Then his empty life stretched ahead.
Seemingly forever.

 

Chapter Forty-six
ORANGE CUSTARD
Boil a pint of Cream with a little sack. When it be cold, take four Yolks and two whites of Eggs, a little juice of Orange and peel of Orange and Sugar to your palate. Mix them well together, and bake them in cups. Before serving, put your cups on ice.
This tastes lovely, and brings love as well. My sisters and I each made this when we were looking for love, and we found it.
—Anne Chase, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1772
 
Excitement still simmered in Corinna on Tuesday when she arrived to visit Frances and the new baby. Her submission had gone even better than she’d hoped. Though she’d half expected to be asked what made her think she, Corinna Chase, was worthy of submitting to the Summer Exhibition, nothing of the like had occurred. No one had looked askance. Not only had her painting been accepted for consideration, but Henry Fuseli, who’d taken possession of it, had exclaimed loudly over its brilliance.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that a man who painted weird, erotic pictures might approve of a portrait like hers.
She wasn’t sure whether Lord Lincolnshire had died yet or not, but she knew he probably had, and that was the only thing that marred her happiness. And she was very much looking forward to this afternoon, when she would meet Sean at Hamilton’s studio.
When she entered Aunt Frances’s drawing room, Ladies A, B, and C were the only ones there, and they were chattering enthusiastically. Corinna wondered what could possibly have happened to make them babble like that, but when she appeared in the doorway they all fell silent. She saw the three of them exchange significant glances before Lady Avonleigh met her gaze.
‘‘Oh, my dear,’’ she cried. ‘‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t accompany you to Somerset House yesterday. Did you manage to submit your artwork?’’
‘‘Yes, I did,’’ Corinna assured her. She was about to excitedly explain what had happened, but then Aunt Frances came slowly downstairs, supported by her maid and a footman, followed by a nurse with the baby. It took quite some time for her to get settled on her chaise longue with Belinda in her arms. Then Alexandra arrived with
her
baby, and Juliana showed up with a huge, flat basket filled with cups of orange custard, which she claimed would assist Corinna in finding love with a ‘‘certain someone.’’
‘‘Which will make my sister’s life complete,’’ she added with a smile, handing the basket to a maid so the cups could be taken down to the basement kitchen and put on ice, ‘‘because her new portrait, which I have had the pleasure of seeing, is going to be the sensation of the Summer Exhibition.’’
‘‘I cannot wait to see it,’’ Lady A declared, which made Corinna a little nervous. She was grateful when the talk turned to Belinda’s first smile—which Alexandra claimed could be caused only by indigestion—and on to Juliana’s burgeoning belly. Not that Juliana’s belly was actually protruding yet, but she kept rubbing it as though she could feel the baby inside, which made Corinna pine once more for a baby of her own.
She wondered how long it would be before Griffin talked to Sean, before she could broach the subject of their marriage. Her stomach fluttered at the thought, with both excitement and a touch of nerves.
Soon Rachael arrived with her sisters, the three of them chattering enthusiastically as they made their way through the foyer. Corinna wondered what could possibly have happened to make them babble like that, but at the drawing room’s doorway they all fell silent. She saw the three of them exchange significant glances before Lady A exchanged significant glances with
her
sisters. . . .
And even distracted by all her excited and nervous thoughts, Corinna couldn’t help thinking something mysterious must be happening under her very nose.
‘‘Good afternoon,’’ Rachael said, breaking the silence.
‘‘Good afternoon,’’ Corinna returned. She watched Claire and Elizabeth make their way to two chairs and sit down, clucking over the new baby. And then she watched Rachael choose a seat on the sofa beside Lady Avonleigh.
Rachael paid no attention to the new baby. Instead she leaned close to Lady A, breathing in the kind lady’s scent. She closed her eyes momentarily, and a faint smile curved her lips as she sighed a contented sigh, even though that odd mixture of camphor and gardenias couldn’t possibly be pleasing.
And then something happened that was odder still: Lady A smiled a matching faint smile and sighed a matching contented sigh. And then she leaned so close to Corinna’s cousin that the two of them were all but mashed together.
Lady C pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. ‘‘Oh, dear. I seem to be coming down with the sniffles.’’
‘‘So do I,’’ Lady B said, although she looked perfectly fine. In fact, she and Lady C were both smiling. And so were Claire and Elizabeth. And they were not faint smiles. They were smiles a mile wide.
‘‘Would anyone care for some orange custard?’’ Juliana asked, rising from her seat. ‘‘Corinna, could you come with me to the kitchen to fetch it? And Claire and Elizabeth? I cannot carry ten cups all by myself, and James said that I shouldn’t overexert myself in my delicate condition.’’
Juliana could certainly carry all ten cups in the same basket she’d brought them in, Corinna thought, and she hadn’t seemed to overexert herself doing so earlier. But she rose and followed her sister, anyway. With a decided lack of regard for her delicate condition, Juliana hurried Corinna and their cousins from the drawing room and through the foyer. Halfway down the steps to the basement, she turned to them. ‘‘What in heaven’s name is going on here? What on earth am I missing? Something has happened between Rachael and Lady Avonleigh. Something significant. I can tell.’’
A blind and deaf woman would be able to tell, Corinna thought.
Elizabeth coughed a little sniffly cough. ‘‘Lady A is Rachael’s grandmother.’’
‘‘What?’’ Juliana and Corinna burst out together.
Claire elbowed her sister in the ribs and sighed. ‘‘Rachael is Lady Avonleigh’s granddaughter. And we’re her granddaughters, too. It seems our mother was Lady A’s younger daughter—the one who jumped off the London Bridge. Only she didn’t, not really. She married our father and moved to Greystone instead. And never went back to London, because she was afraid someone there would recognize her, and her family would know she was alive.’’
This
was what had happened to make the two sets of sisters babble like that, Corinna realized. And no wonder—the six of them turning out to be related was a positively amazing coincidence. Even more amazing than everyone’s being too busy to accompany her to Somerset House at the same time.
‘‘That’s why everyone was busy yesterday,’’ Juliana marveled. ‘‘You two and Rachael and Ladies A, B, and C were all together, discovering all of this.’’
‘‘Brilliant deduction,’’ Corinna muttered sarcastically before turning to her cousins. ‘‘Your mother didn’t have asthma, then.’’
‘‘No, she didn’t. That was just an excuse.’’ Claire pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and blew her nose—because she was overcome with emotion,
not
because she was coming down with the sniffles. ‘‘Please don’t tell Rachael you know. She’d be mortified.’’
‘‘Why?’’ Corinna asked. ‘‘None of this is any fault of hers. Does she think so little of us that she believes Aunt Georgiana’s deception would change our feelings toward her?’’
‘‘I fear she’s not thinking at all right now.’’ Claire crossed her arms over her amethyst bodice and leveled a familiar stare at her sister. ‘‘Much like Elizabeth. Again.’’
Elizabeth sniffled, too. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’
‘‘We promise not to tell a soul.’’ Corinna turned to Juliana. ‘‘Don’t we?’’
Juliana reached to touch both her cousins’ arms reassuringly. ‘‘We love Rachael, and we’re thrilled that she’s found more family to love.’’
Juliana
sounded
sincere, but Corinna couldn’t help noticing that she hadn’t actually promised. She suspected her sister had her fingers mentally crossed. There was something in her tone, a frisson of glee, perhaps, that made Corinna sure she was already plotting her next move.
Juliana was a born meddler, after all, and no doubt she thought this news wonderful for all concerned. For their cousins, of course, and also for Lady A, who’d sorely missed her younger daughter and now had grandchildren at long last. But mostly for Griffin and Rachael, because Rachael’s newfound happiness put Juliana that much closer to her goal of seeing the two of them together as a couple.
Corinna had no doubt Juliana would accomplish that goal, because her sister was not only a born meddler; she was an annoyingly good one—and anyone with two eyes in her head could see that Rachael and Griffin
did
belong together. Just like she, Corinna, belonged with Sean. Sean, of course, was the ‘‘certain someone,’’ because Juliana believed they belonged together, too. She’d made orange custard to bring them love. Regardless of the fact that it would be ineffective, that was a meddlesome thing, and Corinna was certain Juliana had plenty more meddling planned. But for the very first time in her life, she found herself hoping Juliana’s meddling would work.
Juliana would be smug beyond belief, of course, but it would save Corinna from having to reveal that Sean had posed for her, which would be totally worth putting up with a slew of smugness.

 

Chapter Forty-seven
An earl’s funeral bore little resemblance to the simple ceremonies performed by a country vicar like Sean’s father. Lord Lincolnshire was to be buried in Westminster Abbey on Friday, and Sean had also arranged for a reception at Lincolnshire House afterward. Getting everything in place took the better part of the day, and it was late afternoon by the time he trudged up the steps to the garret studio, hoping Corinna wasn’t already waiting. A small part of him couldn’t wait to see her, but most of him dreaded her arrival. He wanted a few minutes to prepare himself, to steel himself for what lay ahead.

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