Page 27 of Romancing the Artist

Everyone who saw Edward and Caroline together had to believe the two felt an attraction toward each other. And that would mean spending yet more time away from her art, which she had to focus on more than ever. Especially if she was going to impress the president of the Royal Academy. Already she began with a disadvantage, having nothing in a classical style—

Caroline’s brush stilled, a wet green blot of paint growing beneath its bristles that she hardly noticed.

Edward had insisted that he owed her a favor. A marvelously large favor. And she had thought of something that she needed. A favor which no other man would have reason to perform for her.

With a sudden gasp, Caroline pulled her brush from the thick paper and used a dry handkerchief to blot up her mistake. A mistake she didn’t actually mind making, since it had come about in the moment her rather brilliant idea had come alive. Her plan to help Edward Everly, Mariah Kimball and her mysterious suitor, and to help herself appear to best advantage when Sir Thomas Lawrence arrived at Inglewood.

All she needed was an opportunity to speak to Edward about it. Alone. She looked to where he sat, frowning at his book as he turned a page. Her hope rose and a flush of excitement warmed her inside and out. He would help her. He simply had to.

Chapter 9

Summer had always been Edward’s favorite season, full as it was of fine weather and sun. He found freedom in escaping the confines of his family’s house to enjoy the company of others. Winter kept too many at home with its chill winds and frost-covered fields, and spring made the roads more nuisance than convenience.

But now, with the sun out later and the weather enlivening the neighborhood, evening parties were far more common. The invitation to such a party at Inglewood had come, only a week after his family’s picnic. And Edward had struggled to hide his enthusiasm at his inclusion, considering it was “a party for young people to come to know the esteemed guest of the Earl and Countess of Inglewood, Miss Caroline Clapham.”

His sisters had spent the two days since the invitation’s arrival debating on a gown choice for Charity. Patience was not yet out in society, especially for formal engagements away from home. She still uttered the complaint that evening, “I would be a better guest than Edward, who is frightfully dull and keeps telling us he doesn’t want to spend time in company with unwed ladies.”

Their mother had given Patience a stern lecture, but Edward received one as well. Mrs. Everly had told Edward, before he went upstairs to dress, “Make certain you pay attention to Miss Kimball this evening. Do not neglect her in favor of the guest of honor. And do mind your manners, Edward.”

Edward smirked into the mirror as his valet fixed his cravat in place with a sapphire stickpin. His mother knew him well. Though manners would not be the issue. Putting Caroline Clapham’s plan—a good plan he wished he had come up with himself—into action, in public, was what worried him.

He’d nearly run mad, thinking his way through the evening and all possible paths to take. Planning conversations and a public flirtation in advance were not to his liking.

Lord and Lady Inglewood had issued their invitation to dine and play games to all the young members of their community who were out in society, including chaperones where necessary.

“Your coat, Mr. Edward.” His valet held out the black evening coat. The staff would call him by this name until Edward inherited. He didn’t much mind. He’d prefer to be Mr. Edward for many years yet. At least when at home. He slipped into the coat. The only color other than his stickpin came from the dark blue waistcoat beneath the black frock-coat. The blue always brought out his eyes, he knew. And the eyes he shared with his sisters were one of their most attractive features. Everyone said so.

“Thank you. That will be all for this evening.” He brushed at his sleeves one last time before he left the mirror and his room, his valet tidying up behind him. He strode down the corridors of his home with a confident step, and nearly gave in to the urge to whistle as he descended the staircase.

It was well he refrained.

“Oh, how handsome you are, son.” His mother waited in the front hall, where she had fussed over all her children for years. Charity waited, too, with an exasperated grimace.

“He had better look resplendent, given how long he took to ready himself.” Charity wore a gown of pale blue, with her hair framing her face in tight ringlets. “What has come over you, Edward? You are usually the one at the door, begging the rest of us to make haste.”

Had he taken longer than usual to dress? Perhaps asking to try on three different waistcoats, and then picking different shoes, hadn’t been precisely necessary.

He shifted uncomfortably on the last step. He didn’t usually object to whatever his valet laid out. Tonight had been different. Though he couldn’t precisely say why. Only that he felt it important to look his best.

“I would rather have a man who cares about his appearance in public than one who does not,” their mother said as she stepped back, taking in the sight of them. “How grown up you are, both of you. Mind your manners at the earl’s table and be gracious to your hosts.”

“Yes, Mama,” Edward said, coming forward to kiss his mother on the cheek.

“We are not infants, Mama,” Charity said with a teasing smile. “I will tell you all about it when we return.”

“I have no intention of being awake that late. One of the benefits to staying behind on an evening such as this is getting a full night’s rest.” Their mother laughed and followed them outside when the footman held the door open. “Look after your sister, Edward. Have a wonderful time!” She waved as the coach pulled away, and Edward exchanged one look with his sister before they both started laughing.

“For all that our parents may vex us, I feel we are quite fortunate to have them.” Charity smoothed her skirt over her knees. “They worry because they care, that is all.”

“Agreed. Most of the time.” Edward put his hat in his lap, giving it as little chance as possible to crease his hair. His valet regularly expressed dismay in Edward’s ability to destroy whatever the man managed to create of the short, curling mess, but Edward had inherited the stubborn waves his sister Hope had to contend with. Were his hair any longer, even his valet would have no say in how it behaved.

“Why did you take so long to dress?” Charity asked, more curious than annoyed this time. “You never care what you look like at these things. Surely, you aren’t trying to impress anyone?”

“Not at all.” He avoided meeting his sister’s eyes. Why had he rejected the valet’s first choice of evening costume? And the second? “I merely lost track of the time.”

His sister didn’t sound convinced. “Mm. I haven’t known you to be anything less than punctual before.”

With his sister examining his motives, Edward allowed himself to do the same. But only for a moment before he realized he needed to put a stop to that direction of thought before he ran directly into a pair of pretty eyes and dark curls. Caroline had done him a great service. One he hoped to repay. That made him grateful to her. Intrigued by her, too, perhaps. But not anything more.