EVELYN
“This is horrific,” Leila whispered to me as the portrait painter bent to wash his brush. Her long-lashed golden-brown eyes rolled dramatically as she rubbed her shoulders and stretched her legs.
I wanted to reassure her or at the very least reply, but before I had the chance, the painter quickly straightened his back and scowled at Leila.
“Lady Leila, please hold your position and don't move,” he said firmly, annoyance in his tone as he returned to his canvas.
Leila grimaced and then resumed her posture, a forced smile on her full lips.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
It had been two days since Georgina Madden’s death, and Anastasia Elrod decided the best way to cheer the ladies up and bring to an end the gloomy feeling in the palace was to invite an esteemed painter to do portraits o
