The Proposal - Page 104

She took his arm and led him to a chair, propping him against a pillar.

‘Thanks, old girl, think I’ve overdone it a bit. I’ll be right as rain in a minute.’ And he promptly began to snore. Well, it was better than falling flat on his face, thought Georgia.

She turned as she heard her mother’s tinkling laugh coming from the library she had passed earlier. She quickly walked over – and stopped dead in the doorway.

Estella was sitting in a high-backed wing chair holding a glass of wine, directly across from none other than Lady Carlyle. Oh God.

‘Darling!’ she called, lifting her glass as she spotted Georgia. ‘I’ve been searching for you everywhere. Come and join us.’

Her heart sinking, Georgia walked slowly across and perched on the edge of a sofa, feeling Lady Carlyle’s eyes on her all the way.

‘So this is the girl who appears to have won Edward’s heart,’ said the grand dame. ‘Well, I can see why; you are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?’

Georgia forced herself to look into the woman’s eyes.

‘But have you inherited anything else from your mother?’

‘I – I hope so,’ said Georgia, completely thrown.

‘Well said,’ smiled Lady Carlyle. ‘We could do with a few more children who wish to follow their parents’ example, who understand the importance of family.’

Georgia looked over at Estella, hoping for some sort of sign to explain this insane turn of events, but her mother just looked away and took a sip of her drink.

‘Your mother was just telling us about the tragedy at your house in Devon. Terribly shocking, I imagine.’

‘Yes, yes it was,’ said Georgia.

‘And I understand it began in your art studio, Mrs Hamilton? Most distressing. You must let us know if we can do anything to help. Tell me more about your work. Perhaps we have a friend who could loan you some studio space.’

Her mother’s eyes started to sparkle.

Oh no, thought Georgia. Don’t tell her about the abstracts, please don’t tell her about the abstracts.

‘It’s fine art, portraiture mostly. Some landscapes, but I feel my forte is in the human form.’

Perhaps sensing some sort of impropriety at the mention of the human body, Lady Carlyle pursed her lips.

‘Portraiture? Might I have seen anything?’

‘I have recently completed a commission for the Earl of Dartington.’

Lady Carlyle’s face broke into a smile.

‘Indeed? Oh, I know Hugo very well. Was it a family portrait?’

‘No, just Lady Linley actually. She sat in the Long Gallery, do you know it?’

‘Oh, very well. I have spent many a pleasant hour gazing out towards the Lizard. How is dear Abigail?’

Georgia watched in amazed silence as her mother and Edward’s began to bond, discussing the various country houses and London retreats of England’s gentry. Estella’s hitherto scandalous career being at the beck and call of wealthy men was instantly recast. Instead of a subversive bohemian, she was simply a well-connected and seemingly much-in-demand artist to the upper echelons of society, her familiarity with the bedrooms of various earls and lords no longer suspect or grubby. And Estella played her part brilliantly: self-deprecating, knowledgeable, witty, she was the perfect balance of well bred and interesting, the sort of artist it was safe to invite to dinner. Georgia sat quietly, offering up a prayer of thanks to whatever deity had seen fit to turn Estella Hamilton into Thomas Gainsborough for the night. Perhaps they might pull this off after all.

‘Well, I’m flabbergasted that Edward never informed me of your family’s artistic side, Georgia,’ said Lady Carlyle. ‘I had no idea your mother was so accomplished. Perhaps we could call upon your talents sometime soon, Mrs Hamilton? I have been meaning to commit my two boys to oil before they run off and start families of their own.’ She smiled over at Georgia. ‘I wonder if we might . . .’

Slowly the smile slipped from Lady Carlyle’s face, to be replaced by a look of disbelief, then horror.

‘Oh my word,’ she whispered, her hand flying to her throat.

Georgia turned and gasped. Standing in the doorway of the French windows that led to the gardens was Clarissa, her dress torn from one shoulder. There was a cut over her eye and scratches and dirt along one side of her face.

Tags: Tasmina Perry Romance
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