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“I thought it was timely. In fact, I think I know the perfect place for it.” He looked around the room at all of its occupants. “In the parlor, above the fireplace.”

Everyone looked at the fireplace. The one that currently held a portrait of his mother and father.

“You cannot do that,” his mother exclaimed, her hand over her chest.

“Oh, not here,” he assured her. “I thought it would be a grand gift to Anthony and Lucinda in celebration of the birth of their first child.” He smiled. “Please, Lord Dunstan, show us your works.” Dunstan looked uncomfortable but took the covers off the paintings and then stood near the door. Was he looking for a quick getaway?

“Well, that is ridiculous. Lord Dunstan cannot possibly paint it in time for the birth. She is due any day,” Marianne said, with her hands on her hips.

Edward smiled down at Dunstan, who tried very hard not to look smitten. Marianne did look adorable when annoyed. “My dear sister, I never said it would be ready in time for the birth, simply that it would be a gift to celebrate the birth of my sixth niece or nephew. Seeing as they are making their home here in London.” He gestured towards the paintings. “Now, please enjoy Lord Dunstan’s work. I think you will agree he is the right man for the commission.” This was true. He could see that Dunstan’s work was appropriate and actually much better than he had thought.

Reluctantly, the three women went to the paintings. Afterward, Rose came over to congratulate Dunstan.

“Your use of light and shade and the small details are fantastic, my lord. You have real talent. I am envious.”

“Lady Rose is quite skilled at watercolor. Particularly flowers,” Edward explained.

Rose blushed delightfully. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Watercolor painting is a skill I am still mastering myself. I prefer oils; they are more forgiving,” Dunstan explained, but he was looking at Marianne.

“Well, I wish you well at Ashtonvale. It is a beautiful place, well worth painting. Perhaps you should do two paintings. One for here and one for Lord Anthony.” She curtsied to them both and then left the room.

Cheeky baggage. A beautiful, cheeky baggage.

“So, ladies, do we think Dunstan is a worthy artist? Enough to paint your beloved Ashtonvale?”

Marianne turned towards him. Her features did not betray her, no doubt, inner turmoil at having Dunstan in her parlor. “It used to be your beloved Ashtonvale too.”

“Indeed, it did,” was his answer before turning back to Dunstan and talking about when he could start.

“After the season, I expect. It will take several weeks to sketch and decide on the right aspect.”

“Of course. You must stay at Ashtonvale. As my guest.”

The man had the grace to shake his head. “I could not impose, Your Grace.”

“Nonsense. My mother and sister would be delighted. Marianne?”

She had her arms crossed and glared at him. “Absolutely. We cannot guarantee we will be in attendance at the time, but you are most welcome.”

“She will be there,” he said in a quiet tone as he gestured Dunstan out of the room.

“She hates me,” Dunstan said. “And I deserve it. I was hoping time and space would have lessened her hatred and distrust, but I do not want to inconvenience her in her own home. I can easily stay at the nearest village. She will not even know I am there.”

“Nooo. She is just upset about the whole Lucinda incident,” Edward reassured him.

“Exactly,” he replied, his expression resigned.

Not so reassuring, then. “Come, man, buck up. She is testing you. Show your resolve, your courage in the face of female anger. She will capitulate in time.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know my sister, and really, you are pathetically transparent. You can thank me on your wedding day.”

Dunstan shook his head, but Edward led him to the door.

“I need you to do me a favor.” He glanced around the foyer before pulling Dunstan closer to the dining room.