Page 33 of A Misguided Devotion

“Be honest with me, Miss Lacey. It is a most convenient headache, would you not agree? It is obvious she is reluctant to have her portrait painted. Is it such a hardship to be told how beautiful she is and to capture that beauty on canvas?”

“I believe she finds it harder than you can imagine. Or perhaps not. Have you never struggled with being seen as a handsome gentleman with a smooth tongue rather than for who you really are?”

A denial halted on William’s lips. His cousin Louisa viewed him like that, coupled with a title and a fat inheritance—but Kitty didn’t know about that.

“How can I win her over? If I am to produce her portrait, I need Miss Barrington’s cooperation, and much as I desire to paint her for myself, it is her father who has requested the picture.” He added in a softer tone, “I don’t want to be obliged to tell him of his daughter’s reluctance to sit for me.”

“I am certain Mr Barrington would not expect her to rise from her sickbed just to pose for her portrait.”

Then his day would be wasted, unless…

“You must borrow one of Miss Barrington’s dresses and sit for me in her stead.”

Kitty’s jaw went slack. “You want me to take my friend’s place? Are you out of your mind?”

Was the idea so preposterous? “Is there a problem with that? If Miss Barrington has taken to her bed, I assume you have no other duties to attend to.”

Her colour paled. What had he said wrong?

“I have no other duties.”

“Then what is the issue?”

“We bear no resemblance to each other. We’re not even the same size. I am several inches taller than Laura, and of a much—um—less rounded figure. I doubt her dresses would fit me.”

A blush rose to her cheeks as she spoke. That was unexpected. It made her appear not beautiful, but…interesting.

“Please try, Miss Lacey. Otherwise, I shall waste a whole day’s painting. You’ll be doing your friend a favour by letting me begin today. The sooner I’ve completed her portrait, the sooner I’ll leave.”

Kitty gave a resigned shake of her head and rolled her eyes at him. “Very well. For Miss Barrington’s sake, I will see what she says.”

Kitty tapped on the door of Laura’s bedchamber and waited. “Laura? May I come in?”

It opened a fraction, and her maid appeared in the gap. “My mistress is unwell. Please go—”

“It’s all right, Sutton,” said Laura, in a weak voice. “Let her in. I need some distraction from this dreadful headache.”

Her friend was in bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, and sounded most unlike herself. Had Kitty misjudged her? For despite her protestations, Mr Merry had not been the only one to question whether Laura was as unwell as she claimed.

“How are you feeling?”

The younger woman held a hand to her temple and gave a low moan. “Not at all well. Please can you make me some chamomile tea, Sutton? You know how that always makes me feel better.”

“Yes, miss.”

As soon as the maid had gone, Laura sat up in bed. “I apologise for the deception, but we have to keep up the pretence whilst the door is open, or someone might report back to my father. I’m not really unwell, but I couldn’t face sitting for my portrait today. Having that man stare at me for so many hours—”

Kitty heaved a sigh. Her first instincts had been correct—as had Mr Merry’s. Her friend was making excuses.

“Mr Merry hopes you will feel better soon.”

Laura folded her arms. “I’m sure he does.”

“He is very disappointed and eager not to lose a day’s painting and so—”

“He’s not suggesting coming in here to paint me, is he?” asked Laura, yanking the covers up around her shoulders.

“Of course not. He might be devoted to his art and irritatingly persistent, but he is a gentleman.”