Page 46 of Romancing the Artist

Edward’s insides curled with mingled disgust and triumph. Claude had given him exactly the opening he wished for to address his comings and goings to his father. “Cousin Claude has discovered where I go for an hour in the afternoons, and he seems rather perplexed by it. I thought you would have told him, Father, about my posing for Miss Clapham.”

Edward’s father snorted. “That waste of time. No gentleman ought to sit still for so long when he could be at other pursuits. If it wasn’t at Inglewood, I’d tell you to leave it be, Edward. But it’s important to build good relations with our neighbors. Especially when they are earls, aye, Claude?” He chuckled and led their party through a gate, held open by the groom accompanying them to assist with such things. “How goes the progress? Is she about finished with it yet? What’s it been—a week?”

“It’s an oil painting, Father.” Edward had to hide his impatience with his father’s complete lack of understanding or interest. He hadn’t perceived Caroline as a threat to his plans yet, despite Edward’s daily absence. Edward needed to press the point harder. “A painting of the magnitude she plans will likely take weeks to accomplish. Not a few days.”

Edward’s father jerked around, starling his horse into sidestepping with more gusto than necessary. “Weeks, you say? With Miss Clapham?”

“Yes. At Inglewood Castle.” Edward feigned innocence in his tone and expression, pulling his horse to a stop as the other two gentlemen had halted their mounts completely. “I cannot see that it matters how long it will take. I could hardly deny both the countess and the daughter of a gentleman who have asked for my assistance.”

“I suppose not,” his father said, face scrunched up as though he’d tasted a lemon. “But, Edward—is it the done thing? Do you know, Claude? Women painting men to whom they are not related?”

Why would anyone appeal to Claude to ask if something was appropriate or not?

“I have never been asked to sit for a woman artist,” Claude said, sounding rather petulant. “Though if a peer sanctions such a thing…” His words trailed away as he shrugged. “Never mind. It hardly matters to me. Are we here to exercise these animals or gossip about Edward’s strange doings?”

“Weeks, Edward?” Mr. Everly repeated, his eyebrows raised. His mind was finally turning over the matter.

“As I said, Father. Thankfully, Miss Clapham is delightful in conversation and charming in manner. I will not mind the time in her company. Not in the least.” Edward nodded to the field. “My cousin is right, though. We ought to get on with our purpose.”

His father stared at him with open shock, and perhaps a touch of suspicion, but Edward let that be the last word on the matter as he put his heels to his horse and urged the animal to stretch its legs and run, galloping across the empty meadow, the wind rushing around them both.

Speculation about Edward and Caroline would begin in earnest at last. Starting with his own family, but likely spreading quickly through community.

And his name would at last stop being coupled with Mariah Kimball’s, which would hopefully be all she needed to finally speak to her parents about whomever it was that already possessed her heart.

No one had paid attention to his comings and goings from Inglewood Castle. The earl’s servants were far too loyal and tight-lipped. Edward’s sisters had said nothing to his parents, likely thinking they protected him. If his father had needed a clear statement, perhaps everyone else did, too. He couldn’t help grinning, as his horse flew over the meadow full of wildflowers, as he thought on the satisfaction of thwarting his parents’ plans.

And the attractive idea of more time spent in Caroline’s presence.

Chapter 15

Sunday arrived, and Caroline sat at the front of the church between the countess and Lady Fox. The ladies had their husbands at their sides, too. But no children, as all were deemed far too young to sit still for a sermon. Even if the man they referred to as “Uncle Jacob” was the one to give it.

Mr. Jacob Barnes was quite good at being a vicar, Caroline decided. Though her mind wandered more than it ought. Her thoughts lingered on the canvas she had started preparing the evening before—the canvas that would become her Atlas.

Every day for over a week, Caroline had sat with a sketchbook in her lap and studied Edward Everly’s face and form. She’d sketched him from the shoulders up when he sat still on a chair. She’d drawn him kneeling, and he’d taken his boots off for her to better observe the turn of his leg, calf, and ankle. He’d often taken his coat off on every occasion, too.

And he’d made it easy for her to forget how uncomfortable she should be, as an unmarried gentlewoman, by talking to her of ridiculous things while she worked. He’d shared bits and pieces of his life, both at home in England and abroad during his time on the Italian peninsula. He never made her feel small for not having the same experience of the world that he had. And he didn’t mind when she became curious. He answered all her questions to the best of his ability.

They’d talked of the cathedrals with their beautiful stone saints and glass windows. He’d described the Greek Sea to her, and the hills of Rome. Places she had only imagined or read of in books had come alive in his stories. Often, he’d described things to her by their color and texture—something her artist’s heart truly appreciated.

Edward’s visits had each lasted an hour. They’d worked in the library or a west-facing sitting room that had excellent afternoon sunlight, and Lady Inglewood remained in the room with them reading or pursuing her own artistic projects. The countess rarely spoke to them unless Caroline had a question.

Sometimes, Caroline completely forgot her mentor remained in the room with them.

Her hour with Edward was the best part of her day.

The women on either side of Caroline rose. Caroline leaped to her feet, too, confused by the sudden movement until she realized the sermon had ended and the choir had sung its last note. All while she daydreamed about her time spent with Edward Everly.

Certainly not the most unpleasant way to pass her time in church, though she doubted her mother or grandmother would approve.

Everyone shuffled down the aisle, exchanging greetings as they passed friends and neighbors, up until the moment they left the church entirely for the open air and summer sun. Ladies took out parasols, gentlemen squinted into the sun, and Caroline had an odd moment when she attempted to do both things at the same time and stumbled off the gravel path from road to church, a troublesome rock forcing her heel to slide forward.

A hand caught her arm in a firm grasp, steadying her, and Caroline nearly dropped her parasol in her surprise. A voice, sure and strong, murmured into her ear.

“I have you. Are you all right? Did you turn your ankle?”

Edward.