"Very well, thank you."
"And your art?"
"I've been painting madly. I hope to see one of my pictures accepted for the Summer Exhibition this year."
"Don't forget, I promised to help."
"Thank you," Corinna said, although she had no idea how the kind, plump lady could help. But one of the woman's daughters, who'd been artistic as well, had tragically ended her own life before the age of twenty when she'd jumped off the London Bridge, taking her unborn baby with her. And since Lady Avonleigh's daughter had hoped to be elected to the Royal Academy herself, the woman had announced last year that she wished to see Corinna succeed in her daughter's stead.
Unfortunately, wishing didn't accomplish much, and Lady A had no connections to the art world. But Corinna knew the sweet lady's heart was in the right place. "I appreciate your good intentions," she told her sincerely.
"I have a plan," Lady A announced.
Corinna couldn't have been more surprised if the new Lady C had asked for an annulment. "Do you?"
"Yes, indeed. I've made a rather large donation to the Royal Academy, earmarked to provide yearly grants for deserving students to study abroad. A noble cause, don't you think?"
"Very much so," Corinna said. The Royal Academy had sponsored student travel years ago, but such grants had been in abeyance since the wars had begun, making journeys to the Continent impossible. Following Napoleon's recent defeat at Waterloo, travel had once again resumed, and artists were now clamoring to go.
But Lady A's grants would all go to men, of course, since women were barred from the Royal Academy schools.
Corinna sighed. "I would love to go study in Italy."
"I'm sure you would, dear. My daughter always wanted to go, too." Lady A rested a sympathetic hand on her arm. "I've made a stipulation that the yearly awards be titled the Lady Georgiana Cartwright Scholarships, in her honor. I do hope that seeing a lady's name on the grant will encourage the Academy to consider admitting women in future. And in the meantime"—she smiled, her soft blue eyes going a little hazy as she gazed off into space—"it gives me pleasure to think of helping any art student achieve his dreams, no matter the recipient's gender."
"Tell her the rest," Juliana prompted.
"Ah, yes." Lady A nodded, coming back from wherever she'd drifted off. "Next month I shall hold an afternoon reception in my home, to which I shall invite the members of the Summer Exhibition Selection Committee. Thanks to my generous patronage, I'm certain they'll all feel obligated to attend. And, of course, I shall invite you too, Lady Corinna, giving you the opportunity to show them some of your work and, more important, charm them and influence their decision."
Corinna doubted her ability to charm. Her sisters accused her of being sarcastic much more often than they lauded her more feminine virtues. But as she was unknown in the art world—and that would be a mark against her in the judging—she was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet the committee. And flabbergasted that Lady A would go to such lengths to help her.
"Thank you so much," she gushed. "I shall make the most of this chance, I assure you."
"I must give credit where credit is due," Lady A said. "The whole scheme was your sister's idea."
"It was your money," Juliana hastened to point out. "And your decision where it should be allocated."
"I was pleased to do it. My dear daughter would have approved. I shall be even more pleased when your sister becomes the first female elected to the Royal Academy in forty-nine years, and honored to have had a hand in it." Taking a sip of her orange brandy, she looked back to Corinna. "Of course, your talent will be the determining factor, my dear. I've no doubt you'll eventually find yourself elected with or without my help."
Corinna wished she could be so sure.
"Have you need of assistance with the planning?" Juliana asked Lady A.
"I could use a hand with the invitations," the older woman admitted. "My penmanship isn't what it used to be."
"I'd be pleased to assist," Juliana assured her—no surprise, since Juliana loved to have her hand in everything. "Perhaps we can have a little invitation party here next week. Friday afternoon would work well. I'll invite Alexandra and our cousins. You remember Rachael, Claire, and Elizabeth?"
"Of course," Lady A said. "It was a pleasure chatting with them during your many sewing parties." Last year, Juliana had offered to make baby clothes for the Foundling Hospital, and she'd needed a lot of assistance. "I would be grateful for your cousins' help. And now…" Lady A gestured to the new Lady C. "I must congratulate my sister before the wedding supper."
After she left, Juliana drew Corinna toward three of their dark-haired cousins. At twenty and twenty-one, Elizabeth and Claire Chase were both pretty as pictures. Their tall brother, Noah, the Earl of Greystone, was a year older and would have been pretty, too—but Corinna thought a small scar that slashed through his left eyebrow made him a look a little dangerous instead.
He had an equally dangerous smile, which he flashed as she and Juliana approached. "I'm going to find Rachael," he said, referring to his elder sister. "If you'll excuse me."
As he ambled away, Juliana looked to Elizabeth and Claire. "We're helping Lady Avonleigh with the reception she's planning to launch Corinna's art career. I'm hoping you'll both come to a little invitation-making party here next Friday. And I hope Rachael will come as well, of course. Where has she gone off to?"
"The terrace. She's just staring out over Green Park." Claire looked worried. "She hasn't been herself for a long while."
"I've noticed," Juliana said. All the time Corinna's brother, Griffin, had been busy
