But Lady Hartwell’s manner was exquisitely polite as she led him on into her private sanctum and ordered her maid to bring coffee.
“So, you are a friend of my granddaughter?” she began, her dark eyes fixed on his face.
“Yes – I knew her in London and I – am a friend of her family and a great admirer of her father.”
He was about to ask her if he could speak to Elissa, when the maid appeared and offered him a gold-and-white china cup filled with steaming coffee.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, as he took the first sip, as it was just as he loved it, strong and fragrant. It was the best coffee he had tasted since he had been in South America.
“Do tell me about yourself – Mr. Stanfield,” Lady Hartwell continued. “You are a painter, I believe?”
Richard explained that he was just starting out, but tha
