The Muse (4 page)

“Wayward, is he?  But even so, he holds the Everley title?”  Imogene shot back.

“Correct.  He is the
titled
Everley, but I have a bigger house and grow more turnips than he does,” Jules joked.

“I am not wayward in the slightest!  What is your purpose, Jules?”  Graham rolled his eyes at his cousin’s attempt at a joke.  “More turnips?  That is the most idiotic thing you have ever spoken I am sure.”

“Ah, Graham, my purpose is to follow convention this evening and secure dancing partners for two of the sets.  As you well know, I cannot dance more than three with Mina,” he said slyly.  “Miss Byron-Cole, what have you available?” Jules asked her smoothly.  Maybe Jules had more sense than Graham originally thought, as he saw where his cousin was leading.

“Ah…well, Lord Rothvale has secured the first and dinner sets.”  Her brown eyes locked onto Graham’s.  “The second and fourth and final are open, Mr. Everley.”  Imogene replied to Jules, but continued looking into Graham’s eyes while she said the words.

Graham interrupted, “The final set is taken as well.”  His eyes never left hers.  He was determined to have his way with her.

Jules spoke to the whole group. “What say you to this, Miss Byron-Cole?  Do me the honor of the second set, and Hargreave the fourth.  Graham, you will partner Mina for the second and Mrs. Hargreave for the forth.  Hargreave and I can partner with Elle for the other set we each need.  Will this arrangement suit everybody?”

“Yes,” Graham said firmly.  Imogene did not say anything in agreement, but then she did not say no, either.  It was enough for now.  The mysterious beauty had deferred to him a second time and that was all that concerned him. 
Yes, a natural.

TAKING their places for the first set, Imogene felt oddly, different.  Her hand burned where his skin touched hers.  He gazed at her a great deal.  She found it a relief to simply stay quiet and not have to speak as they moved through the steps down the line.

Mr. Graham Everley, Lord Rothvale, was tall and broad shouldered, brilliantly fit into his clothes.  His noble features were very pleasing, and combined with those expressive green eyes of his, made him a handsome man.  At least, Imogene thought so.  His dark brown hair was straight, reaching just to the tops of his shoulders, worn in the old style: tied back in a queue, and wrapped in a ribbon.  He was some years older than her, with an intellectual quality, so she imagined he was educated.  His countenance was on the sombre side, somewhat domineering, but not taciturn or haughty.  He possessed a gracious smile when he gave one up and there was a gentle quality about him, too.  There was also a perceptible sadness about him, a weight, something burdensome.  Imogene recognized it because she was no stranger to those feelings herself.

The second set of dancing with Mr. Julian Everley was certainly enlightening.  He was a perfect gentleman as always, but she felt an undercurrent, sensing he was up to something. “Miss Byron-Cole, at the conclusion of the dance I would very much like to make your introduction to my sister, Ellenora.  I think the two of you would enjoy one another’s company.  She rides as do you and would be grateful for the companionship here at Shelburne, for these few weeks away from home.  Would you be willing to meet her?”

“Of course, Mr. Everley.  It would be my pleasure to make your sister’s acquaintance.  It is always nice to meet another who appreciates the joys of riding.”  Imogene was touched by the warm demeanour of Ellenora Everley and they connected right away.  Mr. Everley seemed pleased that his sister had some company of her general age. The girls were enjoying an easy conversation about horses, when Lord Rothvale joined them, coming to claim Imogene for the dinner set.  He’d brought with him a younger man, most likely his brother, the resemblance so clearly evident, it was no surprise when Lord Rothvale introduced him.  “Colin Everley, my younger brother.  Miss Byron-Cole.”

“Mr. Everley.”  Imogene curtsied. 
He has the same green eyes as his brother.

“How do you do, Miss Byron-Cole?”  He bowed.

Imogene addressed all four cousins.  “Has it been a very long while since you were all together?”

Mr. Julian Everley spoke for the whole group.  “Indeed, this reunion is the first in over a year for us.”  He brightened when his Mina approached, his eyes visibly lighting up at the sight of his fiancée.  “And as it is a happy reunion for our family, we also have the joy of adding
another
Everley to our number.”

Imogene tilted her head in congratulations.  “The support of one’s family is a wonderful thing, is it not?  I daresay I am a little envious of you all being together tonight.  You are blessed to have each other.”  She looked to each of them with sincerity.

Lord Rothvale trained his insightful eyes on her again.  “Quite right, Miss Byron-Cole, it is good and proper that we are reunited upon this happy occasion.  It has been far too long since we have been in company. What of your siblings?”

“I have only one.  My elder sister, Philippa.  She is Mrs. Brancroft now and makes her home at Wellick in Gloucester.  I have missed her very much since her marriage to Dr. Brancroft.  He is a practicing physician at the new hospital there.”  Imogene heard the excitement in her own voice as she continued, “Arrangements have been made for me to go to them after the new year.  I want to be with my sister as she prepares for the birth of her first child.”

“Wellick, did you say?”

“Yes, my lord, do you know it?”

“Indeed, Miss Byron-Cole.  Wellick is no more than ten miles from Gavandon, my home.  Gavandon lies along the south western edge of Warwickshire where it borders Gloucestershire, and the two are of an easy distance.”

His voice was liquid as he looked at her and talked about his home.  Imogene was finding herself a bit unnerved at how easy it was to be with this man—a man she had only laid eyes upon this morning and met formally this evening.  When he looked at her she felt something different, an excitement that made her breathing come harder than it should.  Like he was seeing more of her than anyone had ever seen before.  And she was shocked to find he lived so very close to her sister’s home.  Surely she would see him again when she went north to stay
.  I very much want to see you again.

Seated next to each other at dinner, they were mostly quiet, but strangely it was not at all uncomfortable in the silence.  He did break it finally, though. “The pearls you wear are quite distinctive and handsome.  Are they a family heirloom?”

Imogene brought her hand to her throat.  “They were given to me by my mamma, and also to her, by her mother.  They are very precious to me and I feel…close…to her when I wear them.  She was lost to us eight months past.”  Immediately she wondered what had loosed her tongue.  Why was she telling him this?  What was wrong with her?

“My deepest condolences.”  He bowed his head slightly.  “Colin and I have also lost our mother, little over a year ago.”  They became quiet again for a moment.  “At times, I daresay I feel rather cheated.”

Imogene set down her spoon and turned to him.  “I know of what you mean.  You have expressed my feelings exactly.  That is precisely how I feel about it but never have been able to put it as you have just done.”  She shook her head. “It is extraordinary, sir, I care not to speak of my loss, but strangely, it does feel liberating having this discussion with you.”  Imogene pondered his way with her.  He was direct but not offensive.  She liked how he didn’t pry or hover, but was patient in conversation.  In an effort to continue their dialogue, she asked, “Do you have particular interest in jewellery, Lord Rothvale?”

His eyes burned at her and she could swear he was thinking something other than what he replied.  “It would be fair to say that I have an interest in fine art of all mediums.  I appreciate the creative design aspect of it.  But my particular interest is in paintings, specifically portraiture.  I have always been fascinated by portraits, even as a child, pestering my parents to tell me of what they knew of some ancestors’ portraits; wanting to know who the artist was as well as the sitter and the situation of the scene.  One of my favourite places at home is the portrait gallery.  I am continually working on the family history and find that portraits provide essential information.  Have you ever sat for your portrait, Miss Byron-Cole?”

I was correct!  He is a scholar. 
“Yes, actually I have.  My papa commissioned a portrait of my sister and me together.  We sat for it about four years ago now.  Mr. John Opie was the artist; he completed it just before his death.  It hangs at Drakenhurst Hall, my home in Essex.

GRAHAM found himself in a situation like nothing he’d ever experienced before.  With every question and reply, he simply wanted more.  So much more.  The thoughts swimming around in his head were wild and totally unexpected, but that wasn’t stopping him from moving a bit closer to her in his seat and drawing her further into intimate conversation.  He would take any advantage he could.  He sensed that if he didn’t act quickly he would be making a mistake he could never recover from.

“A most excellent master of the craft.  I should very much like to see it, your portrait.
 
You know, John Opie painted my mother’s portrait in the early days of her marriage.  It is one of my favourites.” 
I so want a portrait of you, Imogene. 
“A technical question for you, if you don’t mind?  Did Mr. Opie use an optical device, something like a wooden box that he looked into?”

“He did actually.  He used it at the very beginning mostly and for our facial images I believe, for it was right up close to us.”

“Was the room dark when he used it?”

“It was.  And the device?”

“A camera obscura.  It can project an image through a mirror and lens that is useful in replicating scenes and in drawing an image true to life.  The artist must still possess his talent, mind you, but it can assist most excellently with scale and proportion.”  Graham smiled at her and tried to show calm when all he could really imagine was her in repose, covering minimal as he used the camera obscura to draw her.  He felt himself stir at the thought and willed it down.  Could this really be him?  Was he getting stiff at the dinner table with a woman he’d just met?

Apparently so, you idiot!

IMOGENE thought the fourth set of the dancing just as interesting as the one with Julian Everley earlier.  Mr. Hargreave was such an amiable man and always very friendly, thus it surprised her when he asked directly, “Did you enjoy your conversation with Lord Rothvale at dinner?”