Page 39 of Romancing the Artist

“Ah, my uncle, aunt, and cousins. Greetings.” Even his voice had a quality that made Edward’s eyes narrow with suspicion as his hackles rose.

The solitary comfort Edward had in that moment was knowing he had reason to leave the household the moment Claude retired to his room. In his coat pocket, a card bearing the Earl of Inglewood’s crest rested over his heart. The countess had written, inviting him to come to the castle that afternoon.

Perhaps it was the way Claude moved, with a fluid grace that spoke of a man who either knew his way around a brawl or a ballroom, that made Edward stiffen from head to toe. Or maybe it was the way he held himself, with arrogance others would mistake for confidence. Either way, there was no denying the fact that Claude Everly was a man who commanded attention. Unfortunately, his presence, combined with what many calling his rakish charm made the man generally well-liked. Only those close to him recognized him for what he truly was.

Caroline hadn’t laughed when Edward expressed his dread over his cousin’s visit. At least there was that. She’d listened. Believed him. Encouraged him to do better in the face of his cousin’s arrogance and immoral behavior.

The rectangle of paper in his pocket bore the weight of his focus. He would leave soon. He would go to Inglewood. He would speak to Caroline. Their plans would take shape. He would be free of his parents’ expectations for courting Mariah.

Edward’s Father greeted his nephew first, his expression neither cold nor welcoming. “Claude, welcome to the Refuge. I trust you had a safe journey?”

“Indeed, Uncle. And it is a relief to be at its end and welcomed into the warm embrace of my kin.” Claude turned to Edward’s mother. “And Aunt Everly, as charming as ever.”

Edward’s mother managed a smile. “I hope you will find your stay here comfortable, nephew.”

Edward was next in line. He kept his posture stiff and didn’t bother with a false smile. “Claude,” he said, barely tilting his head to acknowledge the other man’s focus on him.

“I see you are as pleasant as ever,” Claude remarked, a coolness in his eyes and tone. “I understand this is an important summer for you, Cousin Edward. You are on the hunt for a new mistress to the Refuge. What a…thrilling prospect.” His smile turned almost simpering. “The ladies in the vicinity must be overcome with excitement.”

Though he wanted to tell his cousin, using terms unfit for a gentleman, exactly where he could betake himself, Edward ground his teeth together and said nothing.

Charity, next in their receiving line, spoke before Claude could jab at Edward with another word. “Cousin Claude, it is such a surprise to have you here. I did not think you enjoyed our part of the country, especially in the summer.”

He gave his attention to her, his lips curving into a smile that didn’t mean anything good. “I have expressed such sentiments in the past, so your supposition is not ill-founded. Cooler climes are more to my liking. But there is always the sea-air to look forward to when venturing to the edge of civilization. I understand it is good for one’s health.”

The edge of civilization? The man couldn’t help but insult others at every turn.

Patience wrinkled her nose, and Claude bestowed a look of amusement upon her before he tugged one more time at the cuff of his sleeve. “The sun is rather unpleasant at this time of day, is it not?”

The family moved from outdoors to indoors, with Father offering the usual polite comments about his guest’s stay. When Claude went up the stairs to his room, and everyone else remained on the ground floor, the family released a collective breath. The patriarch of the family said nothing. He grunted, a sound of discontent, then strode down the corridor toward his study.

Their mother gave their offspring a long-suffering glance. “Now, children. I know we haven’t got on with Claude in the past. But please be polite and mannerly. How can we hope for a man like him to be better if he has not the proper example for such behavior among his own family?” She glanced in the direction their father had fled. “I better speak to your father about our dinner plans this evening.” Then she hurried away, as elegantly as one could while still being in a hurry.

“How did Claude know Papa wants you to marry?” Patience asked.

“I wondered the same,” Charity said, her tone thoughtful. “I didn’t think our local gossip would carry all the way to someone like him, in London.”

“Nor did I.” Edward shrugged, attempting to rid himself of the irritation he felt. “Claude has a habit of knowing things he shouldn’t and making remarks to purposefully irritate others.”

“What do you suppose he means to accomplish, all the way out here, without his friends?” Patience asked, eyes bright with curiosity. “Do you think he is running from the law?”

“Unlikely,” Charity answered, smoothing away the wrinkles in her forehead with an amused expression. “Father wouldn’t harbor a criminal. Family or not.”

“A gambling debt, then, that he cannot pay?” Patience tapped her chin and peered up the staircase. “Or a jilted lover, perhaps, with a brother who demands satisfaction in the form of a duel?”

“Duels are illegal,” Edward muttered, shaking his head. “I haven’t any desire to speculate on whatever dishonest conduct might’ve made him flee London. It’s more likely he felt the sudden desire to torment people who were innocently minding their own business.”

“That would be rather dull reasoning for him to swoop down upon us,” Patience said with some dissatisfaction. “I prefer believing he is in hiding.”

Charity shook her head and walked to the stairs. “As interesting as it is to speculate on Claude’s presence, I have better ways to pass my time until we have to take dinner with the odious man.”

Edward needed a distraction, too. Something to keep his mind occupied. His invitation to visit Inglewood couldn’t have arrived at a better time. “I think I must be off as well, Patience. I am for Inglewood today. Have you something to keep yourself busy?”

“There are always things for ladies to do,” Patience said with a theatrical tilt of her chin. “Why, there is the stillroom to manage, embroidery, the painting of fans, rearranging my combs, arranging flowers, reading sermons, writing letters to all my dearest friends—”

Edward laughed and nudged her with his shoulder. “Quite a list, sister. Though I cannot say I envy your possession of it.”

“I cannot say I enjoy everything on my list, either. I have little choice in the matter, though.” She sniffed, then followed after Charity, who had paused at the top of the staircase to wait for her younger sister.