He could get away with anything. And then the smile faded. His expression went to blank, then to baffled. Shoulders tensed as he drew his head back. He had been struck dumb. Before I could ask if everything was all right, I followed his gaze. The wall. Just above the kitchen table. Islington was staring at the portrait of himself. Pressing a hand to my face, I muttered, “Take me now, Lord.” I had forgotten the daisy chains Agnes had hung devotedly over the frame, dried but still recognisable. It looked rather like a shrine. Deciding that prayer alone wasn’t going to resolve the situation, I
...more
Mortifying! I would die of embarrassment but I’m also laughing so hard! Mrs. Penury is living her best life.
