Page 12 of The Duke Undone

Kate saw things differently. To her mind, any challenge to male dominance within the Schools furthered the cause. Most days, she marched away from the much smaller gathering of female students to mingle with the men.

Their company isn’t a bit more interesting, she’d explained to Lucy. But I must make my point.

Kate’s point, it turned out, was sharper than anyone expected. It seemed she had a knack for billiards. Not only did she play; she won more often than she lost—much to the chagrin of her opponents.

“I’ve written another petition.” Kate grinned, smoothing her chestnut hair, cut short so it lay close to her scalp. The effect was shocking but not unattractive, emphasizing Kate’s small, even features and large gray eyes. And the style went better with her jacket and trousers.

“Help me collect signatures in the canteen.”

“Oh.” Lucy tried for a light tone. “I wasn’t thinking I’d go to the canteen. I thought I’d stay and paint.”

For all the good it would do. Her new portrait—she hated to admit—was showing considerably less promise than she’d first imagined. The model’s striking face looked younger and less masculine in the new portrait, but the magnificent nose was wrong, too soft and fleshy. She’d not a chance of selling this one, not even to a public house. And less of a chance of exhibiting it, even in one of the minor galleries.

She didn’t feel confident in any of the pictures she’d painted of late. There wasn’t a single one she could imagine submitting for the Summer Exhibition. One was all she needed, one picture hung well in the Summer Exhibition to win her the recognition of the public. Hundreds of thousands of people passed through Burlington House between May and August every year. One picture—well, one stunner—and commissions would follow.

One stunner. That was the difficult bit.

“I should really keep on,” she said, in part to convince herself. Her stomach was growling. The canteen called to her. She could treat herself to a slice of cake, help Kate with the petition.

There wouldn’t be any time, though, to paint later, not tonight or the next night. Aunt Marian’s most loyal customer, Mrs. Fairfax, had placed a large order for the alteration of her entire wardrobe. There’d be plenty of work to fill the evening.

She made a face.

“There’s catching up we have to do,” she said by way of explanation. “From those days when my aunt’s sewing machine was broken.”

Kate understood at once. It wasn’t a secret that Lucy worked in a dress shop, and that the dress shop didn’t precisely cater to the higher order, but only Kate was privy to the full situation. She knew how Lucy and her great-aunt Marian struggled, and she knew that Lucy had precious little time after classes for anything but sewing and sleeping.

And often there was less sleeping than even Kate suspected.

“They could fix it after all!” Kate beamed at her. “That’s marvelous.”

Lucy smiled feebly. Her aunt’s ancient machine had proved beyond repair. She had resolved the crisis in the nick of time. By buying a brand-new Singer.

She couldn’t mention it. Kate would want to know how she had managed, and she was not prepared to tell her.

“Yes,” she said. “A very great relief.”

“Well, sign the petition now, then. I can’t promise I’ll do as well as you at coaxing the other girls to sign, but I’ll box their ears if it comes to it.” Kate knelt on the stone flags and unfolded a piece of blue paper. Lucy hesitated. The very fact of her hesitation shamed her. Did she not share Kate’s commitment to equity for male and female students? She believed just as strongly that women should receive the same instruction as the men, up to and including drawing and painting from life. Women would never achieve what men achieved if their education remained inferior. But sign her name first on a petition that an Academician would read out at the Council Meeting?

She swallowed a weak protestation. She wanted to be fearless, like Kate.

Easier to be fearless with a fortune. A little voice was cautioning her. You need the goodwill of the Academicians. Don’t challenge them. Let Kate lead the charge because she has less to lose.

Lucy knelt beside Kate, took the pen Kate handed her, and signed with a flourish.

“Now,” she said brightly, struggling to her feet in her long skirts. “Leave me to these nostrils.”

“Certainly.” Kate sprang up with easy grace. “When you need that burnt sienna, remember my paint box is open.”

It turned out, Lucy didn’t have long to forget. There was even less burnt sienna in the tube than she’d thought. Once again, she needed to accept Kate’s help.

She owed so many so much. Her parents. They’d sacrificed their health, their lives. Lucy’s mother had churned out illustrations for penny papers at breakneck speed, giving up her dreams to struggle alongside Lucy’s father, whose vision was already failing from years of squinting over boxwood blocks. Aunt Marian. She did whatever she could to spare Lucy in the shop, shooing her to bed when she fell asleep at the table, thread slipping from her needle. And Kate, fiercely loyal, the sort of girl who’d split her last farthing with a friend.

How could Lucy ever repay all their kindness? All their trust?

She needed to buy her aunt more than a sewing machine. She needed to buy her two sewing machines and hire full-time shop assistants to work them.

She was halfway to Kate’s easel when she heard the scuff of a boot on the doorsill. Someone had returned to the classroom early. She whirled around, fighting a furious blush. The girls with more money sometimes looked askance at the girls with less. Suspecting them of wanting what they didn’t have enough to take what wasn’t theirs.