Two Years Later

          “Now what sort of lesson or moral am I meant to portray with this portrait?” Selina stood with her hands wrapped around her swollen belly. She was heavy with child, but Benedict had insisted that she have her portrait painted. He was wandering back and forth, pacing behind the artist, saying not a single word. His brow was drawn in consternation and his lips were puckering a bit, as if he was deep in thought.

          His pose reminded her so greatly of the time he had interrupted her portrait session with Master Dorian years before that she giggled at the memory. 

          “What was that, dear?” Benedict asked, looking up at her with a quizzical expression on his face.

          The baby gave her a sharp kick and she winced a little. “Nothing…I was just wondering what you wanted me to do so that I might make this portrait pleasing to your eye.”

          Benedict laughed in a relaxed way. “Strike any pose you like, dearest. I trust you to do whatever you wish.”

          Selina nodded. “Thank you, husband.” She wrapped her hands once more securely around her belly and tried to lengthen her neck so that she might not be pulled forward by the weight of her growing child. Benedict smiled at her, but a second later, he began pacing once more. His steps became more agitated and all at once, he began to circle around the artist. The master was a friend of Prince Henri’s who had come to England for the express purpose of painting Selina’s portrait, but now she worried a little about Master Francois as every time Benedict swooped nearer, he cringed.

          “Is something wrong, my Lord?” The painter asked at last, leaning back on his stool and holding his paint brush aloft.

          Benedict bit his lower lip and Selina knew that he was trying to be polite. He wished not to offend her or the artist. While she appreciated his restraint, she could see what it was costing him. 

          “Benedict,” she called out, “I am sure Master Francois is asking in earnest. Do tell him what is on your mind.”

          His shoulders sagged a very little and he cast a quick look at the painter. “You would not mind then if I made a few suggestions?”

          The man nodded. “I would prefer it infinitely, my Lord, as I am beginning to feel unnerved with you stalking back and forth.”

          Both Selina and Benedict laughed at that. He moved a step closer to the canvas. “If I may?” He pointed to something Selina was unable to see. “Here…I do not understand why you have tried to paint my wife in this light. You can plainly see that she is with child and soon to be a mother, and yet you have attempted to paint her as she was months ago.” 

          Master Francois fidgeted in his seat. “Most of the ladies I paint prefer to showcase their forms…” He paused as if he was searching for the right word. “…as they are when they are not carrying children. They say they wish to see themselves as they truly are, not how they will be for a short period of time.”

          “I understand,” Benedict said as he waved his hand through the air, “But those ladies are not like my wife. A portrait was already commissioned to cover the time when she was still a maiden. Now, I wish to show her as she is.” He gestured toward Selina, and she ran a hand smoothly over her stomach. “Do you see, Master Francois? My Lady is a mother. She is strong and even now, while she still carries the child, she is trying to protect the babe.”

          “Yes,” Master Francois mumbled. “I think I see what you mean.”

          “Darling,” her husband called out to her, “do try to stand a little straighter and lift your chin just a bit higher.”

          She snickered. “I would like to remind you that just a moment ago, you told me I should strike any pose I liked.”

          Benedict smiled then and dashed forward. He planted a soft kiss on her brow. “I did say that, did I not? Thank you for bringing me back to my senses, dearest. Do whatever you like.” He took a few steps backward and as he did, Selina pulled herself up to her full height and tilted her chin in the air defiantly.

          “I shall leave you to it, I think,” Benedict said as he strode toward the open doorway. “Do you think you will manage in my absence? I have a few letters I need to write.” He turned just before leaving and surveyed her from across the room. His eyebrow wrinkled and a crooked smile floated onto his face. “I do believe you are doing exactly what I suggested, my love.”

          Selina shrugged, but kept her chin elevated. “Your taste is impeccable. Just look at who you decided to marry.”

          He put both hands on his hips and stood in the doorway, grinning at her. “Always right, that is what you are.”

          “Come,” she said, beckoning for him to move back into the room. “Let your correspondence sit for a while longer.” He moved slowly and she continued waving him forward. “Stand here,” she prompted as she waved her hand at her side. 

          “What are you thinking?” Benedict asked as a confused expression overtook his merry one. “This was meant to be your portrait.”

          “Yes,” Selina said, nodding her head in agreement. “But you always like paintings to tell a story.” She looked toward Master Francois. “Please paint my husband into the picture. I wish for this portrait to capture not just me and my child, but I wish for it to showcase our whole, happy family.” 

          Benedict draped one hand around her back, pulling himself closer to her. Then, he laid one tender hand near the top of her belly. “You have done it, Selina. You have finally mastered the art of living a life inspired and driven by your moral values.”

          “Well,” she whispered, “I had an excellent teacher.” They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment and Selina felt a sense of happiness as it flowed between them and wrapped fully around their bodies.

          “Hold still,” Master Francois called. “That is perfect.”

          “I know,” Selina murmured, and she continued looking in her husband’s eyes, focusing only on this moment and how very much she loved him.

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