“But not everyone with talent has the freedom or opportunity to create,” she intuited.
“So, I thought Wimberley Hill could provide a sanctuary for those in need to create in a secure, wide-open space.”
A new light entered Delilah’s eyes. It looked suspiciously similar to the one when she’d called him sweet. “And you’ve found a place for yourself in the world of artists,” she said, earnest. “You’re a necessary part of it.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t take that much credit for myself, but I do have the privilege of being involved in shaping that world and ensuring it continues on.”
She blinked as if seeing him for the first time.
And perhaps she was, for this was the first time he’d truly bared his soul to her.
“You’re on a mission, aren’t you?”
“Art shows a nation its soul,” he said. “And it allows a nation to express its soul. It matters as much as or more than military might. It shows us who we are and lights the way toward who we could be. It’s all there in the notes of an aria or the brushstrokes across a canvas or a line from the Bard. Art is intrinsic to our humanity.”
And he’d laid himself bare to Delilah.
It felt terrifying and good andright.
She walked to the end of the stage and sat, her legs swinging over the edge, as she faced the rise of empty seats. “I think it’s my turn to tell you something about myself.”
Sebastian understood her words as an invitation. To sit beside her. To know more of her than she’d yet revealed.
“I need to tell you what led to me being on stage that day.”
He didn’t need to ask what stage or which day.Eton.Still, he knew something of the details. “You and Archie had a bet, correct?”
“It did start that way,” she said, tentative. “Archie wanted to pull one over on Eton College, and as usual, I was the adoring, competitive baby sister seeking the approval of her older brother. We decided my stint at Eton as a Windermere cousin would last the length of the short summer term.”
“And Archie bet you wouldn’t succeed in the role.”
She nodded. “But here’s the thing. I did succeed. I was admitted and began attending classes as a shy little lordling.”
“A coup, to be sure.”
A dry laugh escaped her. “It was utterly exhilarating.” Then she exhaled a sigh. “It would’ve and should’ve succeeded, and I would’ve and should’ve won the bet without causing my family a load of scandal, but I made one crucial mistake.”
“Which was?”
She shook her head as if she herself couldn’t quite believe her past actions. “I signed up for the term-end play.”
And Sebastian understood. “Hubris.”
“We Windermeres are in no short supply,” she conceded. “I was so absolutely heady with having succeeded in my impersonation of a lad of thirteen years that the play seemed a natural extension of my role. I was the sort of lad who would act in the end-of-term play.”
Sebastian sensed abut.
“Butthat was simply a lie I told myself.” She let that truth sink in for a few seconds. “The play was too much of a temptation—my one opportunity to perform on stage in front of an audience. Not an audience of family and friends, as I’d done since I could toddle about without falling over. An audience of strangers. People who could judge my work honestly. Any smiles and laughs would be genuine—any tears, too. This was what I’d been craving since I first realized the stage was my passion.”
“And an opportunity you might never have again.”
“I’m a lady, born and bred, and ladies don’t take to the stage.”
“Except as a novelty.”
“And I couldn’t reduce myself to that. I do have my pride.” She squared her shoulders, as if reliving the day. “I decided this was it.”
“And you came close.”
