Grenville 02 - Lord John's Dilemma by G.G. Vandagriff Page B

so terribly sorry to have missed squiring you to the fête yesterday.”
    Miss Lindsay’s response was cool. “I hope you are quite recovered?”
    Major Lambeth gave a short bow. “I am well, thank you. You are looking lovely, as usual.”
    Lady Anabella joined them, and Delia walked away to examine the paintings which decorated the walls. It was difficult to tell by candlelight, but they appeared to be quite fine. She was lost in admiration of the depiction of a village fête from the Georgian period when Lord Grenville came up behind her.
    “That is my favorite of all the paintings in this room,” he said. “The artist captured so many different emotions—avarice, pomposity, innocence. I like it.”
    “Yes. It is very well done,” she agreed. “He did a skillful job with the eyes of the subjects, even though they are so small. It reminds me quite favorably of a Bruegel.”
    “You are an artist, Miss Haverley?”
    “I dabble in watercolors,” she answered.
    “You are teaching your skill to your charges?” he asked, raising an interested eyebrow.
    “I would like to, surely, but they show no inclination. Miss Molly and Miss Mariah are very fond of games and the out of doors.”
    The earl laughed, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Besides watercolors, what are your particular interests, Miss Haverley?”
    She thought it very kind of the Earl of Grenville to be concerned with the supposed Miss Haverley’s likes and dislikes. “I am very fond of poetry. Especially Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Blake.”
    “Ah. You have that in common with my brother then.”
    “Do I? That is interesting.” She decided she needed to change the subject. “I understand from a few things Lord Lindsay has said that you are a very active member of the House of Lords.”
    He laughed again. “And you, Miss Haverley, are an atypical governess, surely. Women do not generally concern themselves with politics.”
    Delia willed herself not to blush without success, and bit her lip. Just in time, she stopped herself from saying that her father had been a noted Whig. Instead, she said, “Please do not tell Lady Lindsay, but I find myself greatly interested in a number of things that are out of the common way. The late war, for instance. And the fate of the foot soldiers, now that it is ended.”
    “I find myself concerned with their fate as well. My brother has enlisted me in their cause. He is very disturbed about what is to become of them.”
    “I have also given some thought to the subject. My brother was a lieutenant on the Peninsula before he was killed, and used to write to me of the woeful fate of the wounded who had to leave service.”
    “You have my sincere condolences on the death of your brother,” Lord Grenville said. “Was it recent?”
    A wave of sadness caused her to look down, and she blinked quickly to disperse sudden tears. “Eighteen months ago. I am but recently out of mourning. I am fortunate to have many happy memories.”
    “That is fortunate indeed. I know that I thank the Lord that my brother was spared,” he said. “He was twice wounded.” His eyes narrowed in memory. “But come, I am keeping you from the others. We should not be discussing such melancholy things.”
    Taking her arm in his, he led her to his wife, who was speaking with Miss Leticia. “Felicity, Miss Haverley was admiring your artists. She is a watercolorist.”
    Delia colored again. “Only in a very minor capacity, my lady.”
    “That is something beyond my own skill,” Lady Grenville said with a smile. “John told me he found you admiring our wild daisies. If ever you would like to paint them, you must do so. Do not stand on ceremony, my dear.”
    Miss Lindsay joined them at these words. “Unfortunately, Miss Haverley has very little time to herself. My sisters are a handful and do not aspire to paint watercolors.”
    Delia knew Miss Lindsay was not happy that the conversation was centering on the lowly governess,