Page 53 of Romancing the Artist

Caroline kept hold of Edward’s arm, giving no opportunity for Claude to offer his own. Edward deliberately took the path that led around the house rather than through it. Claude followed behind them without a word, though Edward felt his cousin’s eyes upon the back of his neck.

They arrived at the table after everyone else had seemingly filled plates with delicacies and foods provided by the vicar and his wife. The chairs that had been scattered about when Edward arrived were now arranged in more of a semi-circle beneath the shade of the large tree. The married couples, which included Edward’s parents, and his unmarried already conversed and nibbled on the victuals.

Three chairs remained unoccupied, next to one another, on one end of the gathering. Edward swallowed his disappointment and sent a glance to Charity, who met his gaze and merely smiled at his meaning-filled frown.

She knew precisely how little he wanted to sit near Claude.

“Let me fill your plate for you, Miss Clapham,” Claude said, suddenly at Edward’s side with a plate in hand. “You have but to tell me what it is you desire.”

Edward wanted to take the plate from his cousin and break it over his head. No matter how innocently meant, he never wanted to hear Claude use the word “desire” in any context regarding Caroline again.

“How kind of you to offer.” Caroline released Edward’s arm only to take one of the two remaining empty plates from the table. “But I cannot bear to be waited upon, Mr. Everly. Not during so informal an occasion. Please, see to your own repast.” She made quick work of selecting items, and Edward followed along, while Claude put as little as possible on his own plate before trailing behind them.

Edward had every intention of sitting between his cousin and his sprite, but Caroline didn’t hesitate to take the middle of the remaining chairs for herself. She settled upon it with a smile and gestured with her free hand to the tree above them. “What a glorious day for a picnic. Eating beneath the tree like this reminds me so much of home.”

With some reluctance, Edward took the chair on the outside of the gathering. With luck, his brother-in-law, on Claude’s other side, would keep his cousin occupied in conversation.

Grace, not many feet away, happily took up the topic Caroline had presented. “I cannot hope my single oak provides as lovely an experience as picnicking in an orchard of cherry trees. Do you find yourself homesick, Caroline?”

“At times,” Caroline admitted, laying her gloves in her lap before plucking a tart from the plate. “But I am treated so well, any melancholy I feel when I think of my family and home does not last long.”

Claude entered the conversation without pause. “Ah, the countess is known for her impeccable hospitality. I have never been fond of the country myself, but I have come to find the more charming aspects of this area, despite my infrequent visits. Perhaps you would allow me to show you some of its hidden charms?”

Edward nearly choked on the sandwich he’d selected, and an embarrassingly long break in the conversation occurred as he tried to recover breath. Finally, he managed to get out, “I cannot think why anyone would wish for you as a guide.” Edward didn’t swallow back his words this time, and the way Claude smirked in response made Edward’s hackles rise still more. “You have visited twice in the last three years.”

“Perhaps my cousin is right, Miss Clapham. I may not be the best option of escort, but at least I could plan something suitable to your tastes, if you would permit. I would tailor an afternoon outing to your requirements, after careful thought and deliberation.” He stretched his legs before him and crossed his ankles. “Though Edward isn’t a much better option, given his propensity to dash into ventures without establishing any sort of plan for them.”

“I may be impulsive, but I always find a way to make things work out in the end. And a tour of the countryside is hardly an expedition to China.” Glowering at his cousin was hardly mature, but Edward didn’t much care.

He also noted a distinct lack of chatter among the others present, though no one looked their way except for Grace. Her eyebrows had raised nearly to the point of disappearing beneath her bonnet’s brim.

Poor Grace. She didn’t enjoy conflict. And this was her picnic.

“Goodness.” Caroline released a soft laugh, one that didn’t seem in keeping with what Edward had learned of her in their time together. Yet her smile seemed genuine enough as she turned first to Claude and then Edward. “Thank you both for offering your assistance. I appreciate your concern for my enjoyment of the area. However, my time is best spent at work on my paintings. I wouldn’t want to take unnecessary time away from that. But I do appreciate your kind offers.”

“Oh, but Caroline, dear,” said Lady Inglewood, on the opposite end of the bow-shaped line of chairs. “I have kept you far too much indoors of late. I think a drive around the country is a wonderful idea. Perhaps you ought to reconsider?”

Edward’s jaw fell open. What in the name of all that was good was the countess doing? He stared at her heedless of hiding his shock at her proposal. Surely, she knew all about Claude. She must, given her friendship with Grace. Why would she place anyone under her care within Claude’s grasp?

Lady Inglewood’s smile turned in his direction, and that was when Edward saw her lift her eyebrows in a way that seemed to say, Now what will you do, Mr. Everly?

At his side, Caroline stared at her hostess with as much surprise as Edward felt, but as she began to speak, Edward’s mind caught on a possibility. “Oh, but your ladyship, there is so much yet to do. I cannot take the time—”

“I would be honored to drive with you,” he said in a rush, before Claude volunteered himself again. “And you could bring your sketchbook, if you wished, on the chance you are inspired while out.”

Now it was Edward’s mother who stared at the lot of them with wide eyes and a biscuit frozen midway to her mouth. She lowered it and looked at her husband, who had folded his hands across his rounded stomach and closed his eyes. Edward knew that position. His father had dozed off, lulled by conversation and the warm weather.

“That would be good for you, Caroline,” Lady Inglewood said, somewhat dismissively, before she turned to Edward’s mother with a wide smile. “Your son is a delightful conversationalist, Mrs. Everly. I have enjoyed having him in my home while he assists my protege with her art, and I have found his company quite enjoyable.”

Caroline lowered her gaze to her lap, not yet accepting his invitation nor responding to her hostess with more than a shallow nod.

Had his attempt to save her from Claude making another offer displeased her? Edward shifted in his chair and nearly toppled his plate off his knees, losing a gooseberry off its edge before righting it.

“Thank you, Lady Inglewood,” Mrs. Everly replied, her expression a little uncertain. “Though I confess, I did not learn about his offer of service until recently. He has always acted as seems best to him in the moment, I am afraid, and saves all explanation and reasoning for later. But I am glad he is able to be of use to you and Miss Clapham.”

Claude chuckled, and a grin played at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. “Edward has always been impulsive, hasn’t he? Sometimes it’s difficult to keep up with him as he charges headlong into some trouble or another.”

Why did the man derive such satisfaction from his subtle insults? Edward drew in a breath, ready to point out that Claude had the better instinct for finding trouble, when Caroline turned a little toward him, also speaking loudly enough for the company to heart.