Page 24 of Romancing the Artist

One of her favorite sketches was of a man she had known for many years, though he had died the year before. A grizzled farmer, his face lined with wrinkles, and a soft smile on his lips. It certainly wasn’t an elegant work, but she loved it and didn’t understand why the countess picked it up only to frown at it.

“Nothing is wrong, my dear.” Lady Inglewood put the sketchbook down and raised both hands to her temples. “Your work is excellent. But I had a sudden realization not an hour ago about all I have seen. There are no paintings here of the male form, other than the formal portrait of Lord Neil. No full-length depictions. And no depictions of classical themes, events, characters, or stories.”

Caroline looked down at the table, her eyes taking in what she had spent days and weeks creating. Examining her work, Caroline saw a portrait of her grandmother, her mother, her stepfather, an image of her twin brothers playing with a puppy, her little sister walking on a beach, landscapes of orchards and sheep, and studies of cathedral ruins and cottages.

But Lady Inglewood was correct. Caroline had nothing like what Lady Inglewood described. “I don’t understand. Why is this troubling you?”

The countess lowered herself into a chair pulled up to the table. She tapped the arm of the chair, meeting Caroline’s gaze with a serious one of her own. “Sir Thomas has a marked preference for paintings that are dramatic and evocative of history, myth, and legend. He has stated in the past that he believes no one can count themselves a true artist until they have delved into subjects that touch on the minds of men throughout history.”

And as the President of the Royal Academy, Sir Thomas’s preferences mattered to everyone in the art world of Great Britain.

“This is almost Madonna-like,” Lady Inglewood said as she lifted a watercolor of Caroline’s mother holding one of the twins, her tone absent as though she spoke more to herself than to Caroline. “A gentle theme of divine motherhood might satisfy him.”

The doubt in Lady Inglewood’s tone was enough to make a prick of fear touch Caroline’s heart. “But you doubt it.”

“It isn’t truly a lack,” Lady Inglewood said after several silent moments of thought. “Young, unmarried ladies aren’t expected to study the male form in any detail. Some might think it scandalous.” Her expression turned neutral as she turned another page in one of the sketchbooks.

“Would Sir Thomas think it scandalous, if I had a male model doing something other than sitting?” Caroline watched her mentor carefully, and the countess’s frown reappeared.

“No. He would find such societal limitations on an artistic mind restricting. I have heard him say as much about women who show a gift for painting or sculpting.” The countess shook her head. “I am not certain that we could have something new for him by the end of summer and still improve upon other areas that are essential to your progress.” She put down the sketchbook gently. “Even if he wouldn’t be scandalized, your stepfather and mother likely wouldn’t approve if we hired someone to model for a more…adventurous pose.”

Caroline’s cheeks grew warm. “It wouldn’t have to be a nude—”

Lady Inglewood laughed. “Of course not. Dear me. Lord Neil would certainly not approve of that.” The countess pointedly looked up at a painting in her library, above a small bust of Athena. “If only we could combine the two things. A classical depiction of a man’s form.”

Caroline looked at the picture, too. It was a painting of the Greek hero, Herakles, wearing a tunic that covered one shoulder and left the other bare. He reached for golden apples upon a tree, one of the impossible tasks set for him by the gods.

“You do not think it possible?”

“We could never find a model who I could approve of, given that you are an unattached young lady.” Lady Inglewood sighed, her shoulders falling. Her tone grew softer as she mused aloud, “Silas wouldn’t agree to such a thing. Not a second time. And my brother…well. He has already granted me all favors owed.”

The thought of asking either of those men, an earl and baronet closer in age to her parents than to her, made Caroline shudder. If they were her only options, she would rather not attempt a classical piece or anything to do with the male form.

“What of a younger man?” Caroline asked, her mind racing down numerous paths. “Perhaps someone without the status or age of the other two might be braver about posing for such a thing.”

Lady Inglewood shook her head. “I fear it would be the opposite. Men are temperamental models as it is.” She looked at the mantel clock. “Our guests will arrive at any moment. We can discuss your options another time. For now, we ought to adjourn to the garden.”

Caroline didn’t quite manage to disguise her impatient sigh. Then she blushed as the countess laughed, the sound light and without censure.

“Dear Caroline. I know you see today’s activity as a distraction. But one of the best ways to improve our knowledge of a subject is to teach that subject to another.” Lady Inglewood led them out of the library. She wore a clean cotton apron over an unadorned, simplistic gown. Clean paintbrushes poked up out of narrow pockets against her thighs. “Which is why I invited young ladies to paint with us today.”

The two of them took up their bonnets, in a sitting room with doors that led out to the gardens. Their reflections stared back at them from a large, gilded mirror that hung beside the doors as they tied the ribbons of the hats beneath their chins.

Linked arm-in-arm, they went out into the late-morning sun. Despite the bonnet, Caroline had to blink several times before her vision adjusted to the bright glow of sunlight from above and its reflection on the white stone of the path they followed. Five ladies and a single gentleman waited for them on a lower part of the terraced gardens. A large wall of shrubbery between them and the sea protected the fountain and its occupants from any wind that might come off the water.

Vases of flowers were placed on the fountain’s low-wall. Each lady had an easel with paper clipped or pinned in place, along with pedestal-like tables holding paints and jars of water.

Mrs. Kimball and Miss Kimball were both present, as were Miss Everly and Miss Patience Everly, and Lady Fox, wife to Sir Isaac. Lady Fox and her husband had visited Caroline’s home on many occasions, as Lady Fox was a good friend to Papa.

And on a bench near the fountain, with a book in hand, was the only gentleman. Edward Everly. He rose as they approached, bowing to Lady Inglewood and Caroline both.

“Edward,” Lady Inglewood greeted him with a smile. “You will not join us in painting today?” Her tone made it clear she teased him, the same as an affectionate aunt might.

Edward feigned a deep sigh of disappointment. “Alas, your ladyship, you know I have no talent for brushwork. It is best I remain as unobtrusive as possible.”

“If you didn’t wish to paint, I cannot understand why you came,” Miss Everly said, giving her brother an impatient glance. “Unless you mean to be a distraction.”

He chuckled and sent Caroline a glance so quick no one else could have noticed, but she saw the mischief there. Three of them at that moment knew precisely why Edward had not only agreed to accompany his sisters on their visit, but why he would be insistent on remaining throughout the course of their activity.