explain, sir?"
"That's enough for today." Sir Anthony got to his feet. "I'll save dictation of letters for tomorrow morning. You have enough to keep you busy."
An understatement; it would take Kenneth days to catch up on the accumulated work. He was about to ask what Sir Anthony wanted done first when footsteps sounded in the hall. After a perfunctory knock, the door opened to reveal three fashionably clad people. The taller of the two men, a handsome fellow about Seaton's age, said, "What, not at your easel, Anthony?"
"I'm training the new secretary who has providentially appeared." Seaton gestured toward Kenneth. "Captain Wilding was sent by a nameless friend who knew I was in dire need of a secretary. Are you the one I should thank, Malcolm?"
Malcolm gave Kenneth a sharp, curious glance. "Surely I wouldn't admit it if I wish for anonymity."
Sir Anthony gave an amused nod, as if the answer were confirmation. "Captain Wilding, these are some of my scapegrace friends, who like to use my studio as a salon."
"But only in the late afternoons," said the woman standing slightly behind Malcolm. To his surprise, it was the voluptuous Lavinia, now dressed in the height of flamboyant fashion.
"If a man can't be a tyrant under his own roof, where can he be?" Sir Anthony said before making the introductions.
Kenneth stood and murmured greetings to the visitors. The elegant Malcolm turned out to be Lord Frazier, a fairly well-known gentleman painter. The second man, a short, stocky fellow with an easy smile, was George Hampton, an engraver and owner of the best-known print shop in Britain. Lavinia was introduced as Lady Claxton. Kenneth spoke little but studied everyone closely. These people must have known Helen Seaton.
After several minutes of general talk, Malcolm Frazier said, "I was hoping to see how your new Waterloo picture is progressing. May we have a view?"
Sir Anthony shrugged. "I've had little time to work on it since your last visit, but you can see it if you wish." He offered his arm to Lavinia.
Before the group could leave, Rebecca Seaton appeared in the doorway, her hair even untidier than it had been earlier. She paused at the sight of the visitors. Lord Frazier drawled, "How is the best-looking artist in London?"
"I have no idea," she replied. "How
are
you feeling?"
He laughed, unaffected by her implication of vanity. "You're the only woman I know who refuses to accept compliments."
"If you didn't give them to so many, I might be more willing to keep one for myself," Rebecca said sweetly as she greeted Lavinia and George Hampton.
After the visitors left to see Sir Anthony's painting, Rebecca closed the door and said to Kenneth, "I see you've met your first members of Seaton's Salon."
His brows rose. "Sir Anthony said people use the house as a gathering place, but I thought he was joking."
"Father won't admit casual visitors early in the day, but in the late afternoon he rather enjoys having people drop in to see his work and chat with his sitters. Sometimes it's a nuisance." Her searching gaze went around the office. "Have you seen a cat?"
"A cat?"
"A small animal with four feet, whiskers, and a tail." She peered behind her father's desk. "This room is one of my cat's preferred hiding places."
Kenneth thought back. Though most of his attention had been on Sir Anthony, he seemed to recall seeing a small shadow from the corner of his eye. He went to the stationery cabinet and peered beneath. A pair of large yellow eyes opened and regarded him unblinkingly. "I assume this is your feline friend."
Rebecca dropped to her knees beside Kenneth. "Come out, Ghostie. It's almost dinnertime."
The cat oozed from beneath the cabinet and stretched languorously. It was a lean, rangy gray torn with battle scars on its ears and an unnaturally shortened tail. Rebecca made cooing noises and scooped the cat onto her shoulder. Kenneth was interested to see that her usual tart expression had become doting. He asked, "Is
"That's enough for today." Sir Anthony got to his feet. "I'll save dictation of letters for tomorrow morning. You have enough to keep you busy."
An understatement; it would take Kenneth days to catch up on the accumulated work. He was about to ask what Sir Anthony wanted done first when footsteps sounded in the hall. After a perfunctory knock, the door opened to reveal three fashionably clad people. The taller of the two men, a handsome fellow about Seaton's age, said, "What, not at your easel, Anthony?"
"I'm training the new secretary who has providentially appeared." Seaton gestured toward Kenneth. "Captain Wilding was sent by a nameless friend who knew I was in dire need of a secretary. Are you the one I should thank, Malcolm?"
Malcolm gave Kenneth a sharp, curious glance. "Surely I wouldn't admit it if I wish for anonymity."
Sir Anthony gave an amused nod, as if the answer were confirmation. "Captain Wilding, these are some of my scapegrace friends, who like to use my studio as a salon."
"But only in the late afternoons," said the woman standing slightly behind Malcolm. To his surprise, it was the voluptuous Lavinia, now dressed in the height of flamboyant fashion.
"If a man can't be a tyrant under his own roof, where can he be?" Sir Anthony said before making the introductions.
Kenneth stood and murmured greetings to the visitors. The elegant Malcolm turned out to be Lord Frazier, a fairly well-known gentleman painter. The second man, a short, stocky fellow with an easy smile, was George Hampton, an engraver and owner of the best-known print shop in Britain. Lavinia was introduced as Lady Claxton. Kenneth spoke little but studied everyone closely. These people must have known Helen Seaton.
After several minutes of general talk, Malcolm Frazier said, "I was hoping to see how your new Waterloo picture is progressing. May we have a view?"
Sir Anthony shrugged. "I've had little time to work on it since your last visit, but you can see it if you wish." He offered his arm to Lavinia.
Before the group could leave, Rebecca Seaton appeared in the doorway, her hair even untidier than it had been earlier. She paused at the sight of the visitors. Lord Frazier drawled, "How is the best-looking artist in London?"
"I have no idea," she replied. "How
are
you feeling?"
He laughed, unaffected by her implication of vanity. "You're the only woman I know who refuses to accept compliments."
"If you didn't give them to so many, I might be more willing to keep one for myself," Rebecca said sweetly as she greeted Lavinia and George Hampton.
After the visitors left to see Sir Anthony's painting, Rebecca closed the door and said to Kenneth, "I see you've met your first members of Seaton's Salon."
His brows rose. "Sir Anthony said people use the house as a gathering place, but I thought he was joking."
"Father won't admit casual visitors early in the day, but in the late afternoon he rather enjoys having people drop in to see his work and chat with his sitters. Sometimes it's a nuisance." Her searching gaze went around the office. "Have you seen a cat?"
"A cat?"
"A small animal with four feet, whiskers, and a tail." She peered behind her father's desk. "This room is one of my cat's preferred hiding places."
Kenneth thought back. Though most of his attention had been on Sir Anthony, he seemed to recall seeing a small shadow from the corner of his eye. He went to the stationery cabinet and peered beneath. A pair of large yellow eyes opened and regarded him unblinkingly. "I assume this is your feline friend."
Rebecca dropped to her knees beside Kenneth. "Come out, Ghostie. It's almost dinnertime."
The cat oozed from beneath the cabinet and stretched languorously. It was a lean, rangy gray torn with battle scars on its ears and an unnaturally shortened tail. Rebecca made cooing noises and scooped the cat onto her shoulder. Kenneth was interested to see that her usual tart expression had become doting. He asked, "Is
Similar Books
