Page 62 of The Duke Undone

A new, mortifying category of emotion: jealous of cat.

“Horses always monopolized my affections, but I admire cats. They know how to be themselves.”

He stood. His last sentence hung in the air between them. He didn’t know how to be himself; it was painfully obvious. He was trying to break out of molds made by other men. His father. His brother. What would it look like, a portrait of his inner self? Black and red, brown and amber, no figures, its essence in shades, modulation, sensation. She could barely imagine such a painting. Being in Weston’s presence made her think, see, feel, new things.

All the more reason to quit his presence immediately. She knew how to be herself just fine. Anything extra confused things. Weston was definitely extra. He had no place in her life. If he kept looking at her like that, she was going to do something rash.

A drunkard, she reminded herself. Absolutely unreliable.

Mr. Malkin purred louder, pressing between Weston’s legs.

“I’ll deal with you later,” muttered Lucy, bending close to the notched ear. But when Weston left shortly after, she only stroked Mr. Malkin thoughtfully, listening to him purr and nodding in reluctant agreement.

Chapter Ten

Kate stood with her arms folded, tipping her head this way and that.

“It’s good,” she pronounced at last. “The graduation of color. All the accessories of detail. But . . .”

This but was what Lucy was waiting for. Kate didn’t settle for good. Lucy grinned and turned her eyes to her easel, trying to see what Kate saw. It was her first attempt working from the sketch she’d made of the Cantrell girls. She’d added Mr. Malkin in the bottom left and the handkerchief sailing away from the clothesline in the top right.

“The elements aren’t working together,” she ventured, and Kate scowled, weighing her next words.

They were standing shoulder to shoulder in Lucy’s favorite corner of the classroom. Lucy tried to still her breathing, so Kate could think without the slightest interruption. At last Kate opened her mouth, and gasped.

“Oh,” she said, nudging Lucy in the ribs. She no longer looked at Lucy’s easel but across the room. Gwen Burgess stood framed in the doorway. She appeared paler than usual, even peaked. Whatever had detained her from class, it hadn’t been a happy experience. Lucy shifted, suddenly ill at ease, as though, desirous of usurping Gwen’s rightful place, she’d somehow willed her misfortune.

Nonsense. She had no such powers. Besides, Gwen Burgess didn’t own this corner. Lucy belonged there as much as anyone. Kate glanced at Lucy and gave a short nod, gathering herself as Gwen came toward them.

“Gwen.” Kate called to her in a low voice. “I’ve been hoping to . . .”

But Gwen’s face had already assumed its characteristic blankness of expression, the remote quality that made her privacy so unassailable. Without waiting for Kate to finish speaking, without acknowledging that she’d begun, Gwen swept past, making a beeline for Mr. Barrett.

Kate watched her go.

“Dammit,” she swore and bent her arm, jamming her clenched fist beneath her chin. “Did you see that? She won’t exchange a word with me. Lucy, we need her to sign our petition. She’s a Burgess. Everyone on the council knows who she is. And if she signs, the other girls will sign in a heartbeat.”

Lucy, too, followed Gwen with her eyes. Would Mr. Barrett have a harsh word for his pet? No, his narrow face showed only concern as he beckoned her away from the other girls, who gawked from behind their easels.

Kate sighed. “And she’s disgustingly talented.”

“Humph,” muttered Lucy; then she bit her tongue. It was preposterous, her one-sided rivalry with Gwen Burgess. The circle would be a circle of hell if the Sisters succumbed to such pettiness.

She did rather wish, though, that Kate had not been interrupted on the verge of a dramatic critique of her painting. Too late now to resume. She could see the wheels turning in Kate’s head.

“What?” she asked.

“You get her to sign.” Kate leaned forward and gripped both of Lucy’s arms, staring fiercely into her eyes. “Promise me you’ll try.”

Lucy frowned, and Kate tightened her grip. She was devilishly strong.

“Fine!” Lucy groaned her concession, shaking Kate off. “I don’t know why she’d listen to me, but of course I’ll try.”

“She’ll listen because you are an indomitable force.” Kate winked at her, turning back to the easel. “Singleness of aim, that’s the secret.”

Lucy bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud.

“To winning over Gwen Burgess?” she asked. “Or to improving this painting?”