Read Online The Painted Lady by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online

best, my dear. You always do.”
    “I am to lead a duke on quiet walks and read improving works to him?”
    The week was sounding better to Kasey. He was sure he could find a set of watercolors or pastel crayons somewhere, to paint Miss Bannister while her soft, soothing voice flowed around him.
    That soft, soothing voice rose ever so slightly in volume and vehemence. “No. I will not do it.”
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Sir Osgood straightened the pile of papers in front of him and placed his spectacles in the exact center of the stack. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Your Grace? If you could wait in the sitting room, my niece will be along in a moment to escort you to your room.”
    No one was in the hall to direct him to the sitting room, so Kasey opened the door to the chamber adjoining Sir Osgood’s study. This appeared to be the morning parlor, where the family would take their meals. Three places were put out, he noted, with a modest number of forks and spoons at each setting, indicating the informality of the meals. The room itself was comfortable but plain, with no scenes of successful hunts to ruin the appetite, not even a floral print to enliven the light straw-colored walls. The room would get monotonous, Kasey decided, supposing that was the point to the minimal decorations. He wandered toward the window to examine the view. Some late chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies were still in bloom, with a few last roses trying to hold off the approaching winter. Nothing to tempt his talents there, either.
    Then His Grace realized that he was not going to grow bored as quickly as he’d thought, for the window was slightly ajar and he could hear voices from the next room. So the little gray wren had claws. Good for her. Not so good for him.
    * * * *
    “I said I will not do it, Uncle, and you must not ask it of me.”
    “I am not asking, Lilyanne. I have already accepted His Grace as a patient and will not go back on my word.”
    Or his fee, Lilyanne suspected. She crossed her arms over her narrow chest. “Fine, Uncle, then you can be the one to march him around the countryside. I will not bear-lead a rake.”
    “Nonsense. I cannot interrupt my studies. Besides, what do you know of rakes anyway?”
    “I know the way he was looking at me, and that is enough. If not, he is as handsome as Lucifer himself, and most likely twice as charming. Obviously wealthy, polished, titled—I believe those are sufficient reasons why having him under our roof will destroy what little reputation I have left.”
    “That is ridiculous. What do you care what a handful of country lumpkins think of you, if they think of you at all?”
    By that Lilyanne inferred that the reputation of a woman so firmly on the shelf was of no concern to the villagers, or to her uncle. “What of when His Grace returns to Town, then? He might mention where he was visiting, and with whom. It is Lisbet’s reputation that will suffer, with her sister sharing a residence with a wealthy bachelor. Everyone will believe I was sharing his bed!”
    “What, with your uncle in the house? You are making too much of this, Lilyanne, and I am not pleased with this display of excitability. I thought I trained you to have more control.”
    “And my mother, bless her soul, taught me to be a lady.”
    “A lady ... That’s it. Lady Edgecombe is present, so your reputation is perfectly safe.”
    “What, chaperoned by a woman who is considered insane by her own husband?”
    “Discomposed, my dear. Remember, we do not use that other term. And you know that the lady is no such thing. She is more in the way of being a house guest, and therefore an entirely respectable chaperone.”
    If Catherine did not land in Caswell’s bed herself, Lilyanne thought. They were both of a class that deemed love affairs as common as crows, at least one atop every roof. “Very well, if you will not consider my reputation, consider my safety. Caswell’s very stance and stare proclaim him