I suppose I should be flattered, but the Duke of Albany's latest ruse has somewhat perplexed me, and I do find it rather bothersome to be perplexed by a man. It is nothing so sordid as others have asked, indeed it is something entirely different and because of this I am unsure as to what is the appropriate response.
The Duke and I are so wonderful at sending letters to each other when we are not in the company of one another. Reams of poignant thought, speckled with caring words that are often plunged into the depths of a heart that is as twisted and confused as my own, litter pages while we wait for our next rendez vous. It was one such letter that gave voice to an idea of the Duke's; he wants to commission a painting of myself.
According to his letter, it would give him the utmost pleasure and delight to have a deity painted in my likeness to grace his walls. He knows just the painter, an artist of magnificent talent who would be more than willing to paint me, if I would be so kind as to sit for a few hours a day and become immortalised as a great work of art.
I cannot deny the blush that spread to my cheeks as I reread the Duke's letter. I don't know of a single painting of any deities that are even remotely clothed. I do not have to answer his question via letter as he longs to feel my touch and gaze upon my greatness for himself, so he shall arrive post haste. But he implores me not to disregard his wish, and promises that it shall be in the utmost taste.
Flattered I am, but dubious too... It is far too convenient for this to be a passing fancy of the Duke's and I'd like to know more about this artist (I'd hate to become a laughing stock in Bohemia). I do not know what I shall say yet, but when I have the chance to look the Duke of Albany in his searching blue eyes, I know I shall find my answer.
D. S.
The Duke and I are so wonderful at sending letters to each other when we are not in the company of one another. Reams of poignant thought, speckled with caring words that are often plunged into the depths of a heart that is as twisted and confused as my own, litter pages while we wait for our next rendez vous. It was one such letter that gave voice to an idea of the Duke's; he wants to commission a painting of myself.
According to his letter, it would give him the utmost pleasure and delight to have a deity painted in my likeness to grace his walls. He knows just the painter, an artist of magnificent talent who would be more than willing to paint me, if I would be so kind as to sit for a few hours a day and become immortalised as a great work of art.I cannot deny the blush that spread to my cheeks as I reread the Duke's letter. I don't know of a single painting of any deities that are even remotely clothed. I do not have to answer his question via letter as he longs to feel my touch and gaze upon my greatness for himself, so he shall arrive post haste. But he implores me not to disregard his wish, and promises that it shall be in the utmost taste.
Flattered I am, but dubious too... It is far too convenient for this to be a passing fancy of the Duke's and I'd like to know more about this artist (I'd hate to become a laughing stock in Bohemia). I do not know what I shall say yet, but when I have the chance to look the Duke of Albany in his searching blue eyes, I know I shall find my answer.
D. S.
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