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"My lord, would you be so kind as to move just the slightest distance to the left?"
Viscount Sherringham shifted his weight, moving away from his position behind the elegant chair in which Viscountess Sherringham sat.
"Excuse me, my lord, I meant that you should move toward my left, not yours."
"Then you should have told him to move to the right. Shouldn't he, Gil?" The Hon. Ferdy Fakenham polished his quizzing glass with a handkerchief and viewed the famous artist's portrait with a critical eye.. "Good lord, but that's you, Sherry."
"Well, it's supposed to be me, that's the idea." Sherry slid back to his original position and laid a hand on his wife's shoulder.
"It's a bit sketchy around the edges, but perhaps that's the fashion?" Ferdy squinted, turning the quizzing glass this way and that.
"I think it's not done yet, that's all." Gil Ringwood wandered up beside Ferdy to peer at the canvas with a critical eye. "Quite flattering to Kitten, though."
"Are you very bored, Sherry? Perhaps Sir William would be willing to let you go for a while." Hero, Lady Sherringham, smiled up at her husband.. The baby in her arms gurgled, waved an arm and pursed his lips. "Oh, my. Sir William, if you don't mind, I'll call Lucie to take Anthony Edward. It's past time for him to be fed."
"Very well, Lady Sherringham." Sir William Beechey shrugged, but maintained his pleasant demeanor. "If your lordship and your ladyship would promise to spare me an hour or two tomorrow, we might see this portrait finished much sooner."
Sherry opened his mouth to protest, but was beaten to the punch by his wife. "Oh, we can do that. We're not going out of town until next week, I think.. Not while Lady Wrotham is still in an interesting condition."
"Certainly not," Gil said, a wealth of meaning in the gaze he sent to Sherry from under his eyebrows.
Hero, who had handed young Anthony Edward Victor Verelst, the future Viscount of Sherringham, off to his nurse, turned hurriedly back to the artist. "It's so close to nuncheon; I'll have some food sent up for you. It can't be an easy task to paint people, I think."
Sir William's formality thawed under her friendly gaze. "Indeed, it is not, my lady. The quality of the light makes so much difference, from house to house, that it is impossible to paint many people outside the studio. It's a rare joy to have such perfect light available as we have here in your drawing room."
Hero beamed at him and waved her hand toward the tall windows with their delicate curtains on bamboo rods and the light-colored walls and furniture. "See, Sherry? I told you Ferdy's ideas on redecorating would be good."
"Never doubted it for a moment." Sherry paused. "I suppose you will want Burton to wear my clothes for a while this afternoon?" Sir William bowed.
"And I'll have Maria pose in mine, as I won't need her until dinnertime." Hero smiled, and sent Jasper-footman to the kitchen with orders for tea and food. This taken care of, the artist who had painted every notable family in the ton was left to contemplate a luncheon alone and an afternoon concentrating on the vagaries of color in Lady Sherringham's best silk gown and Viscount Sherringham's muted paisley waistcoat.
Meanwhile, his painting's actual subjects made their escape. As soon as they were in the front parlor, downstairs and out of hearing of the drawing room, Sherry went to the sideboard. "Lord, I'm tired of standing still for that fellow." He reached for the brandy. "Take a glass with me, Ferdy? Gil?"
"No, thank you. I believe I'll join Kitten in a cup of tea." Gil accepted the cup from Hero and waited while she poured one for herself and stirred in a lump of sugar. "Think it's best to stay sober, what with George and all."
"Oh, dear. Poor Bella. As if she didn't have enough to do, what with being confined and all." Hero shook her head. "It was very hard to wait for Anthony to be born.." As Ferdy opened his mouth, she continued, "Don't tell me not to talk about it, because it's a fact of life, Ferdy, even if it hasn't happened to you."
Ferdy blenched. "I - I hope not. I mean, hope it won't happen to me. Well, not until -- never mind." He busied himself with his drink for a moment, but looked up to say, "Not likely to, actually, not the marrying kind. Rather spend my time with Gil, if you know what I mean."
"Has Aunt Clarissa been after you to settle down, Ferdy?" Sherry inquired. "Never knew a woman more set on making other people miserable."
Ferdy nodded, his face settling into miserable lines. "Throwing elegible girls at me left and right, this season, whenever I see her. It's enough to make a man nervous. Don't want to tie the knot."
"Well, you've got no money to speak of, and you're living in Gil's lodgings; I'd think that alone would make the old girl shy off."
"Thing is, don't know that she's aware of it. Not the sort of thing one says to one's elderly aunt," Gil commented. "Not a bad idea if someone else would say it, though." His eyes rested on Ferdy, and his face softened.
Hero glanced from one of them to the other and nodded. "The next time I'm at Almack's, I'll sit next to her and let a word drop."
"You would?" Ferdy asked with surprise.
"Of course I would." Hero patted him on the shoulder in a comforting fashion, and he recovered a little. "I've learned a great deal about how to go about in society from you, you know."
"What would you say?" Gil asked.
Hero arranged her skirts, as if she'd just sat down. "I think it's such a shame about Ferdy's being all washed up."
"Best say it a bit more delicately, Kitten." Sherry said.
"You can coach me. You could even be there, and say something about how it's very good of Gil to help him out."
Ferdy looked up. "Well, it is good of Gil."
"Nothing of the sort." Gil's face reddened. "Delighted to have you there, long as you want."
Inspired, Ferdy stood and bowed over Hero's hand with the greatest of style. "Couldn't possibly marry anyone, anyway. There's no one else like you, Kitten."
"Oh, that is very sweet, Ferdy, thank you. And it's no trouble at all. But Gil is right; we should think of something we can do for George. Do you know if he'd like to go to Astley's Amphitheatre to see 'The Fall of Carthage?' It might distract him."
"Wouldn't help. He's too ripe and ready by half, spoiling for a fight." Sherry shrugged. "Must keep him away from the doctors. How many of 'em hared off when he showed up?"
"Four, Bella told me, including a most distinguished man from Cambridge."
"Can't call out the doctor. Bad ton," Gil said. "Doctors ain't gentlemen. Or are they? Don't think so."
Ferdy, having recovered his equilibrium, considered the matter as he sipped his drink. "Wrotham's settled down amazingly since he and the Incomparable were joined at the hip. I don't believe he's called out more than three people in a year. Amazing, that."
"Well, Bella did say that if he fought Revesby, she wouldn't marry him. Perhaps he took it to heart." Hero stirred sugar into her tea.
"It didn't stop him from racing the Mail Coach last month; nearly got arrested for interfering with the Royal Mails." Sherry grinned. "Guess who was riding in the coach to Dover? Revesby."
"No! And George didn't call him out?" Ferdy's jaw dropped.
"Couldn't." Sherry shrugged. "He'd promised Bella he wouldn't. Y'know, George won't take it kindly if he thinks we're getting between himself and Bella."
"Never mind that. George is a friend; must do something." Gil accepted a biscuit from the tray and dunked it contemplatively in his cup. "Get him away into the country for a few days, for a bit of shooting down at your hunting box?"
The others considered this. "Could work," Ferdy said. "I've never seen George when he wasn't happier shooting something."
"And it would get him away from the doctors," Hero put in. "But --" She frowned, calculating times and dates. "Her confinement's nearly over. If something happens ..."
"He'd never forgive us if something happened to Bella and he wasn't there," Sherry affirmed. "We'll just have to distract him without taking him out of town."
"Perhaps you could go away for a few days, Sherry, and I could ask George to take me around?"
"Wouldn't work. We're still here." Gil shook his head. "If m'grandmother were available, she'd sort him out in jig time, but she's in Bath."
"Oh, what a wonderful thought, Gil!" Hero brightened immediately. "I'll write her to ask her to come up to town for a visit. She hasn't seen Anthony yet --"
"Yes, she has," Sherry interjected. "Saw me last winter when she was here."
"Not you, Sherry. Anthony."
"Oh." Sherry recalled the existence of his son. "Right. And better to have Lady Saltash than my mother, much as I hate to say it. She and George never dealt well together."
Hero refilled Gil's cup and her own. "Indeed, Lady Sherringham is much ... friendlier now that she's living in Brighton. Sherry, do you think a card party would cheer George a bit?"
"Now, there's an idea, Kitten!" Sherry raised his glass to her. "Bella can't object to a card party here."
"Answers on all points," Gil said.. "Quiet party of friends, nothing untoward. Lady Wrotham can't worry that he's out fighting duels because we won't take his challenges."
"And we're so close to their house, only a few blocks away, if he were needed." Hero rose to head for the spindle-legged secretary in the corner of the room. "I'll write them a note this minute." The door opened next to her, and the butler entered. "Oh, yes, Bradgate?"
"Lord George Wrotham, my lady," the butler pronounced.
"Oh, do have him come in," she said, but there was no need as George nearly pushed past him, arriving in the room out of breath with an intense energy about him that brought them all to their feet.
"Sherry -- Kitten -- oh, you're here, Gil, Ferdy, good --"
"Is it --"
"How --"
George surged toward the sideboard, poured himself a glass with a hand that shook so the liquor spilled on the sideboard's inlaid surface, and raised his glass high. He threw the drink back hard, cleared his throat, and said in a husky voice, "I'm a father!"
"Oh, how wonderful! And dear Isabella is --"
"Bella's fine. She was ordering the midwife around, even talking back to her mother. Capital notion of yours, Kitten, that midwife. She's worth a dozen of those doctors. Brought Bella through the ordeal in tiptop shape."
"I thought she would like Mrs. Warneston. She was very kind when I was confined."
George grinned, as if he were about seven years old. "I'm a father!"
"Yes, George, we understand that -- but a father of what? Boy or girl?" Ferdy pursued the issue.
Lord George Wrotham's chest swelled inside his superfine jacket. "Both. One of each. It's twins."
"Twins! Oh, I must go over and see them as soon as she'll be up to visitors. Sir William will just have to understand. Twins aren't born every day."
George, who was receiving congratulations from all the men, cocked an ear toward her. "Who's Sir William?"
"Painter. Very odd fellow, walks back and forth in the room and then puts a few daubs of paint on the canvas. No wonder it's taking so long." Ferdy shook his head. "Still, he's captured Sherry exactly. Can't imagine how he does it."
"Have you chosen names yet?" Gil asked.
"Still working on that. Some damned odd family names on her side. Euphonia? Cynara?"
"I think they may be Classical Greek, George."
Ferdy put up a hand. "They're not Shakespearean, are they?" Hero shook her head. "That's all right, then. Classical names ain't bad."
"Nobody's naming either of them Nemesis, if that's what you're asking," George said. "Long string of family names on both sides; bound to come up with something. But what the hell. I want to celebrate!"