“Poor thing,” her friends said in unison.
At the end of the art session, Elizabeth walked around the room to survey and admire everyone’s work. She even stopped by Lady Catherine’s and her friends’ paintings. Lucy did not want to be too gleeful, but she could not help but notice that their works were juvenile and dull. They did not understand that even still life, such as fruit in baskets, should show some spirit. A personality. Such paintings should not look dead.
Finally, Elizabeth stopped by Lucy to look at her sketch. Lucy hoped that her hostess would not realize that she was sketching her brother.
“This is utterly fascinating, Lady Lucy,” she said, her praise sounding genuine. “Most people try to capture what they see with their eyes. There is nothing wrong with that. You, however, did that and even went beyond as true artists are wont to do. You’ve captured the mood and essence of this man. He appears to be a mystery. I can feel a strong longing just by looking at it. It makes me wonder if the longing comes from the man or the artist, or both. Well done!”
Lucy smiled shyly. She noticed that Lady Catherine’s face had turned an unhealthy shade of green. Jealousy was plain in herexpression, and Lucy could not help but mentally pat herself on the back.
Still, she wondered if it was only victory she should be feeling, for the sketch reminded her of how Daniel had managed to worm his way into her thoughts, refusing to ever leave again.
It was frightening.
Chapter Thirteen
“Another bullseye, Stonewynn?” Theo commented playfully. “Isn’t it getting tedious watching you make the same shot? We need more excitement here. A little more uncertainty.”
There were a few scattered chuckles after Daniel made another shot that had the arrow hitting dead center. At the moment he finally admired his own work, the arrow was still quivering. The fletching made quite a contrast against the red ring.
He knew that many more activities were going on in Redmoor Hall. However, the lawn felt like the center of the party only because archery was a more taxing activity.
Masculine camaraderie echoed in the air as gentlemen conversed, shared strategies, and pulled at their bowstrings. Still, he could not help but wonder what the ladies were doing at the studio. He had caught Lucy looking out the window at them.She was probably wondering about the strange man who had bought her a dress, even though she had explicitly said no.
“Repeat performances? That is what we call practice, Barton,” Daniel retorted. “You must try it sometime. Your practice is focused more on handling your fourth and fifth glasses of port.”
Even as he said those words in jest, his hand was already reaching for another arrow to loose. The action had become fluid and mechanical.
Yes, it was easier to do something you had been practicing for. Something that you were comfortable with. It certainly was more comprehensible than dealing with a lady who wanted to see more of the world. The more she protested, the more she seemed imprisoned.
His brothers-in-law, Alasdair and Dominic, were quite occupied in guiding the younger lords who still needed lessons in coordination. They were probably trying to save a passing servant from becoming the target.
It meant that Daniel was in the company of his other brothers-in-law, Adrian and Richard. His best friend Theo was, of course, there. Although apparently, they had caught the attention of one more gentleman.
“Step aside, Your Grace,” a voice interrupted the familiar banter. “Let someone else give it a try.”
The voice was different from Theo’s playful one. Instead, there was a hint of a challenge in it. It was clear that it was coming from someone who was not part of the immediate group.
Daniel turned to see Joshua Coulson standing expectantly and somewhat arrogantly a few feet behind him. He could not help but scrunch his nose at the sight of the Earl wearing a neat suit while his sister was always wearing old dresses from Seasons ago. His buttons and shoes shone from careful polishing. Everything was in fashion.
Still, he watched Joshua with curiosity. The man looked more like a scholar who frequented libraries and argued in Parliament, not someone who would engage in a sport, even one that was as mild as archery. The Earl seemed to be confident enough, drawing the string back slowly while his posture remained rigid. His eyes were narrowed as he measured the distance between his arrow and the target.
Then, he let the arrow fly.
It did not hit the center, but it notched so close to Daniel’s, perhaps about an inch or so. It was a good shot, remarkably so. Earlier, Daniel had not given anyone a chance to perform quite as outstandingly as he had, but Joshua seemed capable of giving a good game.
“Well done, Marsleigh!” one lord exclaimed in surprise.
“A few more of that and you may give Stonewynn a run for his money!” another one remarked.
“To be fair, you were making it rather dull,” Theo muttered, giving his friend a smirk.
“It’s a good game, Marsleigh,” Daniel said begrudgingly, giving an approving nod.
Instead of smiling and thanking everyone for their praise, Joshua maintained a serious expression. There was a spark of something else there—a sharp kind of competitiveness. It was in his flinty eyes, the hard set of his jaw, and his rigid posture.
“It’s obviously not what I was aiming for,” he remarked smoothly. “But sometimes, being close enough could get the job done. What do you think, Your Grace?”
“Ah. Well, I always prefer hitting the target,” Daniel replied.
