I smiled, stopping on the final step. “Surely she’s a better artist than you.”
Jonathan’s foot barely touched the vestibule floor before he pivoted toward me, one hand still on the banister. “You still doubt me?”
“I still require evidence.”
A smile spread over his face—a true, genuine smile. My breath caught. From my place on the stair above him, I matched his height. I heard my pulse in my ears as his eyes roamed my face. I had grown quite accustomed to his serious eyes, but the smiling ones spread an unfamiliar warmth through my chest.
“Be patient,” he said. “I’ll give you your evidence eventually.” His deep voice held a teasing note that reminded me of our first few interactions, before Charlotte had interfered and changed everything. I savored the sound for so long that I nearly forgot to reply. My wits evaded me. I felt the walls between us slackening, cracks spreading and threatening to collapse them entirely. Ourkiss flashed through my mind again, but it was already like a distant memory.
“Unfortunately, I’m not very patient,” I said in a quiet voice. I flashed a smile that I hoped was charming before skirting around him. With my feet on solid ground, I was able to catch my breath before spinning to face him. “I shall require my evidence today.”
“Today?” His brows lifted. He seemed to contemplate for a moment before nodding. “I shall paint a portrait of you.”
My hand flew to my heart. “Of me?” I couldn’t hide the dismay from my voice.
He smiled. “Do you have an objection?”
“N-No.”
Yes.
My throat was dry. How could I have Jonathan staring at me for hours at a time, assessing each of my features, focusing on every detail and every flaw? My heart hammered. Even now, I could hardly endure his gaze without becoming shy. Learning the truth about the south wing…about his sister, and seeing how honorable and good he was for protecting her…
It was not helping my determination to dislike him.
The gruffer sides of him, the barriers and defenses—they had all begun to make sense. If he thought that Charlotte and I were trying to hunt the fortune meant for Margaret, then of course he would be defensive. He had dedicated his life to keeping his sister comfortable and safe. Of course he would try to avoid anything that threatened his purpose—even me. At first, anyway.
But now he seemed to be lowering his guard.
And it made me unbearably nervous. I had thought I would be prepared, but it seemed I had developed defenses of my own. My feelings for him were stronger than I dared to admit. If we began spending time together, and he never felt the same for me,I would be shattered. Had our kiss meant anything to him at all? Or had it only been a courtesy?
Jonathan backed away a step, a smile still on his lips. “I’ll gather my painting supplies. We might find a spot of shade outside.”
My stomach fluttered with nerves, but also a whirl of excitement. At the very least, we might become friends. I might not feel so alone in this house.
“Would Margaret like to join us?” I asked.
He stared at my face in surprise. Had he truly expected me to avoid his sister as everyone else did? I was proud of my ability to shock him, especially when it came to sweet Margaret. “I will ask her,” he said finally.
My shoulders relaxed as he walked back up the stairs. I would be far more comfortable if we were not alone the entire time. I was accustomed to having a chaperone or companion with me while in the company of gentlemen. It was ridiculous to still feel a need for one, considering that Jonathan was my husband. The last time we had been alone, I had asked him to kiss me, which was painfully embarrassing.
I could only hope that if he ever did kiss me again, I wouldn’t have to ask.
Chapter Twenty-One
JONATHAN
Dappled light filtered through the leaves above Alice, dotting her dress with tiny pockets of sunlight. On her stool, she sat perfectly upright, hands folded in her lap. A gentle breeze rustled her sleeves and hair as I sketched each of her features on the canvas.
“Are you comfortable?” I asked as I sketched the outline of her nose. It was such an endearing nose, short and rounded, with freckles spreading across it. Her blue eyes had a slight upward turn, as if conditioned that way from years of frequent smiles. Creating this painting was an excellent excuse to look at her, even if it did make her nervous.
Each time her gaze connected with mine, she lowered it. I would have to tread carefully with my attention toward her. She had asked for more of it, but she still seemed cautious in my company. I didn’t want her to be. “Does your back hurt?” I asked. “You may rest any time you’d like.”
Alice stretched but shook her head. “I wish to be a perfect subject. I shall be as a statue for as long as you need me.”
I smiled, lifting my gaze from the canvas. Margaret sat on a blanket on the grass several yards away, a sketchbook and pencils strewn in front of her. She paused occasionally to look up at the clouds and seabirds in the sky. Perhaps she was drawing them. I hadn’t realized that Alice was watching Margaret too until she spoke.
“Does she miss her?” Alice asked in a quiet voice.
