‘The lady in that portrait.’
His stern look vanished in a smile as he turned to the painting and her heart flopped like a landed fish.
‘Oh, Daisy. She was an ancestor of mine.’
‘Daisy is an unusual name for someone of that period, isn’t it?’
‘Her name was Marguerite but I couldn’t pronounce that as a child, so my mother told me it meant daisy in French and that is what we called her.’
‘Is that why the lovely botanical plate of a daisy is hung by it?’
‘My mother painted that.’
‘Truly? It is so very beautiful! I remember now Jamie said she painted the map rooms for you. She must have been very talented.’
He shrugged, smile faltering, and she wondered what she had said to make him withdraw.
‘She looks like Jamie,’ she said.
His eyes met hers again and there was a peculiar intensity there.
‘Most people say he takes after Bella.’
She frowned, wondering why she no longer shared that same assessment. Perhaps her memory of Bella had faded or was overlaid with her image of the Duke and her knowledge of Jamie’s character.
‘I dare say he does. Or perhaps it is that Bella and your Daisy are rather alike as well.’
It was his turn to frown.
‘How on earth hadn’t I noticed that before?’ The question did not appear to be addressed to her in particular, so she didn’t bother answering, just watched his profile as his gaze moved over the painting. ‘Perhaps it is not that surprising; they were related, after all. Bella’s maternal ancestors were from the same French branch long ago and they remained in sporadic contact when it served their political purposes. In fact, my father met my mother while visiting the Uxmores as a young man when he came to court. I can see the similarities now, but they are still quite different.’
‘The colouring and the eyes and the mouth are similar, but the expression is different. Still, one cannot tell if that is the truth or the painter’s choice.’
‘By all accounts she was a very lovely woman, both in looks and spirit,’ he replied absently and Jo felt herself shrivel a little, only too aware of her shortcomings. ‘But then history has a way of reshaping the past to meet the needs of the present, so for all we know she might have been a shrew.’
‘She looks kind.’ She resisted the to urge to add—unlike Bella. She knew she was being unfair. Bella might have been spoilt, but she was not a bad person and she had charm in abundance. In her own way she had tried to be kind to Jo, and it was probably Jo’s own fault they had not succeeded in becoming more comfortable with one another.
‘My mother told me she planned to call me Marguerite,’ he said, a spark of laughter in his green eyes that dropped years from his face.
‘That would have been...unusual.’
‘She wanted a girl and she liked plant names. Unfortunately for her there were not many possibilities for boys, not to mention my father invoked his rights as clan chief and chose Benneit after his grandfather.’
‘What a pity. Think of the possibilities—Bluebell, perhaps. Or if you prefer something less feminine she could have chosen chervil or clove.’
‘Very amusing. She told me she suggested Rowan or Ash. I always thought if I had a daughter I would like to call her Marguerite.’
The smile faded again and he moved away from the portrait and she leapt to the next conversational gambit.
‘You mentioned earlier I might be of some use with the accounts, Your Grace. I would be happy to try once I change.’
His gaze swept over her dress and she wished she had not called attention to it. Her hems were damp and stained with sand and the less pleasant smears from where she had brushed against the kelp or mossy rocks. As she followed his gaze she wondered if the stains could even be removed. She ought to be more careful with her few dresses. Not that there was any need for her to be presentable. She would be seeing no one but Jamie and the servants. And the Duke.
She sighed again and he stepped back as if from an unpredictable beast.
‘Perhaps some other day. I will send for you if there is a need. Now I suggest you join Jamie before he eats all your nuncheon. He is voracious after his trips to the beach.’