Shades of Milk and Honey Read Online Free PDF Page A

than having her maid do Beth’s hair. I expect that I shall not recognize her when she descends.” He looked self-conscious for a moment and then said, “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness to my sister.”
    “It has been my very great pleasure to make her acquaintance.”
    The smile on Melody’s face seemed set in plaster. “I look forward to making Miss Dunkirk’s acquaintance as well.”
    “Thank you. You are both very kind.” Then, as if in an effort to cast off the mood and embrace the festivities in Banbree Manor, he said, “Have you seen Mr. Vincent’s glamural yet?”
    “No, indeed, I have not.” Melody’s eyes, wide and cornflower blue, fixed on Mr. Dunkirk as if he were the only person in the crowded hall.
    “But you must.” He held Jane with his gaze. “I would very much like to shew it to you.”
    Her heart danced to a faster tempo than the music in the hall. “I should like to see it.”
    “He has an exquisite command of glamour, which I think will appeal to you.” Then Mr. Dunkirk turned backto Melody and the room grew dimmer. “May I detain you from dancing for a trifle longer?”
    “Of course.” Melody followed him artlessly, so that it seemed he led only her to the dining hall, with Jane an unwanted straggler.
    There, a combination of glamour and paint contrived to turn the hall into a nymph’s grove. Though yet incomplete, the illusion teazed the spectators with scents of wild-flowers and the spicy fragrance of ferns. Just out of sight, a brook babbled. Jane looked for the folds which evoked it, and gasped with wonder at their intricacy. Her perception of the physical room faded as she traced each fold in an effort to understand it.
    Mr. Dunkirk and Melody whispered behind her. Of course, they could not see the effort which went into the art, and would consequently become bored with it more quickly. She shook herself, focusing once more on her surroundings.
    A broad-chested man stood in front of her, watching her too intently. As soon as Jane focused on him, he broke his gaze, acting as if he had not been staring at her. Then a swirl of guests streamed between them and he vanished into the crowd.
    Puzzled, Jane turned back to Mr. Dunkirk and Melody. “Did you see the gentleman standing there?”
    “No.” Melody shook her head, curls bobbing around her cheeks. “What did he look like?”
    Jane resisted the urge to pat her own hair, forcedinto curls with an iron. “Tall, and very broad of chest. His hair was chestnut and curled about his head like Gérard’s portrait of Jean-Baptiste Isabey.” She stopped speaking as Mr. Dunkirk gave a start of recognition.
    “Why, Miss Ellsworth, you have seen the artist himself.”
    “I wish Mr. Vincent had stayed so that I might compliment his work.”
    “I am certain that the regard with which you viewed the glamural was ample compensation.” Mr. Dunkirk gestured to the other guests around them. “You see how few stop to pay heed.”
    “That is because it is a ball, not a museum.” Melody wrinkled her nose and looked wistfully toward the ballroom.
    Mr. Dunkirk bowed. “Then may I ask for a dance?”
    “Of course.” Melody took his offered arm.
    Before he led her away, he turned to Jane. “Miss Ellsworth, I trust you will also honour me this evening.”
    Melody stiffened beside him, very slightly. Her eyes seemed to beg Jane not to dance. And how could she? How could she compete with her beautiful, charming sister? “Thank you, Mr. Dunkirk. I feel that I would like to remain here and admire the glamural for a while. I do not quite understand how he is reproducing the brook sound. It has not repeated yet.”
    Mr. Dunkirk and Melody made their apologies for leaving her unaccompanied, but upon her assurances that shewished to study the folds and twists of glamour, they retreated to the ballroom. Jane moved slowly about the perimeter of the room, lost in her own thoughts. She paused again where the sound of the brook was loudest