“Now, where was I?”
Restell sidestepped the trap by remaining silent.
“Oh, yes, Lady Rivendale’s splendid success on the marriage mart. She asked most specifically about you, Restell.”
“Did she? That was very kind of her.”
“I told her you were unattached and had no prospects.”
Restell offered a wry glance. “It is to your credit that you did not puff the thing up.”
Lady Gardner’s lips flattened. “It gave me no pleasure, I can tell you that, but as she is in a position to offer assistance, what would have been the point?”
“Indeed. You did not enter into a contract, did you?”
“Do not be absurd.”
“It is a perfectly reasonable question. I have no idea how these things are accomplished. Does she present you with a list of eligible females? And now that I think on it, what constitutes eligibility? Must they be females of a certain age? Say, between eighteen and death? Can they be widows or are you set on a virgin?”
“You are being outrageous.”
Restell was unapologetic. “Is a substantial dowry a consideration? What of her face and figure? Can she have interests outside playing the pianoforte and embroidering pillows?”
“She will not be an opera dancer, of that I am certain. Really, Restell, you are intent on annoying me.”
“No, that is not my intent, Mother, but it might well be a consequence of asking for the particulars. I do not even know if you and Lady Rivendale are prepared to make the proposal on my behalf or whether I am permitted to fumble through the thing myself. What opinion am I allowed to offer? I freely admit my thoughts have thus far been self-serving. I have not begun to consider the feelings of the female. She will have some thoughts on the matter.”
“She will be pleased to have you, Restell. You cannot doubt it. What do you imagine will not appeal to her? You are possessed of an extraordinarily handsome countenance and a sharp wit. You have had benefit of a fine education, which you did not completely waste in spite of your best efforts to be sent down. You are an accomplished horseman, better than most of your set at cards, a superior partner in the waltz, and have much to recommend you as an excellent son and brother. You are discreet to a fault and your unfortunate predilection for actresses and their ilk aside, you have been known to demonstrate sound judgment. Do you lack so much confidence in yourself? I hadn’t realized.”
Her stout defense of him had the effect of taking the wind from his sails.
Satisfied that she had effectively silenced him for the nonce, Lady Gardner continued to present her position. “Can you not see why it is imperative that someone help us manage the match? You are already besieged by a veritable legion of marriage-minded females.”
“Hardly a legion,” Restell interjected.
“I beg to differ. I am speaking of the daughters who want you and their mothers who want you for them.”
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Then you might be right.”
“There is no question but that I am right. You are six and twenty, Restell. That is an age where your father might reasonably expect you to marry.”
Restell frowned. “Has he said as much?”
“No. You know he is absorbed in his political designs. He relies on me to manage the family.”
“We all rely on you, Mother, because you are so very good at managing us. It hardly seems fair that you should take on so much responsibility. It must be wearing on your nerves.”
Lady Gardner leaned toward Restell and divulged in confidential tones, “You cannot appreciate the extent of it.”
“And the sacrifice.”
“Yes, there is that.”
“One wonders that you do not neglect yourself.”
“It is a delicate balance, doing for others and taking care of oneself.”
“I should think so,” Restell said. “We take shameless advantage of your noble nature and profit from your good intentions. You would be well within your rights to throw up your hands and have done with the lot of us, unrepentant ingrates that we are. What a diversion it might be for you to step to one side and observe how we manage without your deft, guiding hand. Now, there would be a lesson for us and considerable comedy for you. Imagine the depth of our appreciation for you in such circumstances.”
“You would all be humbled.”
“Clearly that would be the way of it.”
“I confess, it has a certain appeal.”
“It would serve us right.”
Lady Gardner chose another iced cake as she considered the consequences of her inaction. “You are an original thinker, Restell.”
“Your influence, Mother. It is the very nature of your arguments that compels me to think in novel ways.”
She smiled. “That is a pretty compliment.”
Restell was rather pleased himself, though he took pains not to show it. Deciding he had played his cards as skillfully as was possible at this juncture, he judged the better course of action was to change the subject. He set aside his tea and pointed to the painting he’d been studying when his stepmother entered the salon. “Is that your newest artistic acquisition?”
Lady Gardner swiveled on the bench to improve her line of sight. “The Fishing Village? Yes, that’s new. I told you about it, do you not recall? Of course, you do not. It is as you said, I am taken completely for granted.”
Restell rose to his feet, touching his stepmother’s shoulder lightly as he did so. “Do not be so hard on yourself, Mother. You know that I do not recall much of what anyone says to me.”
Lady Gardner snorted. “I am not fooled. You have a mind like a steel trap, Restell.”
This was not the direction Restell wanted the conversation to take, so he did not attempt to argue the point. “So this is the Vega.”
“That’s right. Do you like it? It seemed as though you were admiring it earlier.”
“I was, yes. It is a departure from his other work, I think. There is a sense of movement here, of activity. I do not seem to remember that Vega has ever rendered a scene with so much industry. The fishermen. Their wives. Children at play. Here is one woman who looks as if she means to abandon the fish she is cleaning and gut her husband. The humor is unexpected. The whole of it puts me in mind of Brueghel.”
“That was my sense also. I wanted it very badly and your father appeased me.”
“Vega still does portraits, does he not?”
“Yes. He has not abandoned his bread and butter. I understand Lady Greenaway has commissioned him to do a family portrait for her. Lord Greenaway is not enthusiastic about the engagement—I have that from your father—and how she will manage to make her five young children sit for it is beyond my comprehension, but she is set on the matter. Sir Arthur is commanding an indecent sum for his work, though I suspect that he will wish he had negotiated a much larger sum when he has met the children.”
Restell chuckled. “When have you had occasion to meet Lady Greenaway’s children?”
“The terrors interrupted the musicale I attended in her home last month.”
“Bad form.”
“They are undisciplined, but that is neither here nor there.”
“On the contrary. Lady Greenaway might be grateful for such insight and advice as you can offer her. We have never interrupted one of your literary salons or evening