Mr Winter was scowling now, watching Benedict as he paced the perimeter of the room in agitation.
“It is an honest living. And may I ask, my lord, why exactly does this bother you so?”
“It is outrageous,” replied Benedict. Spreading his arms as if to encompass the whole sordid situation at once.
“What are you planning to do, will you ruin us?” asked the old man in a resigned manner. “I knew this day would come sooner or later, but I confess I am no more prepared than I was when it first started.”
Benedict narrowed his gaze on the man, his mind turning furiously as he considered just what his options were.
As he stared at the artworks, a plan started to form in his mind.
Perhaps he could make things right for Emmaline, and get what he desired most at the same time. It might be the only way to convince her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emmaline wipedher moist palms nervously on her dress as she waited for Lord Seton in his study.
The painting was finally finished, and Hutchins had assisted with setting it up for the formal unveiling in the centre of the room.
Her father was notably absent, but he had come by two days ago to approve the final touches. He had seemed pleased with her efforts but distracted, and Emmaline was vaguely worried that there was something he was keeping from her.
No matter, she would have to do the presentation without him. And then she could go home.
An intense feeling of loneliness and disappointment flared at the thought, even though Emmaline knew it was for the best.
She had stopped thinking of Lord Seton asBenedictby pure will over the last few days. Since the day after their interlude in the middle of the night, he had been nothing but polite to her.
And nothing more. That is what stung her heart so.
He had called Emmaline beautiful that morning, then put up a wall between them that never cracked, even a little bit. Yes, he was friendly in manner, always enquiring after her day andtalking to her during the session as they had in the past weeks, but it was not the same.
Thank goodness Lady Honora had been to visit many times over the last week to distract Emmaline from her misery.
Lady Honora was slowly becoming a true friend, and surprisingly, Emmaline’s first Patron. In fact, Emmaline had taken Lady Honora to the house to see her portfolio, as she had asked to see more of her work. Together they were planning a salon to show the works, since Lady Honora was an avid collector and she supported many artists this way, showing them off to her high society friends to great success.
Emmaline had no idea how she would tell her father, but she would cross that bridge when she got there.
First, she needed to finish her business with Lord Seton.
The man himself chose that moment to stride through the door, flashing her a charmingly warm smile as he saw her standing in the middle of the room.
What a confusing contradiction he was.
Emmaline dipped into a habitual curtsy, closing her eyes on an exhale as she bowed her head, gathering her strength to get through this one last meeting.
He came forward and took her hand, encouraging her to rise and turn towards the painting.
Emmaline looked down, he still held her hand in his.Why?
She cleared her throat awkwardly. “My Lord, your painting is finished. I hope that it pleases you.” With those uninspired words, she pulled back the velvet curtain, revealing the finished canvas.
It still needed to dry completely, and then a layer of varnish, but it was done.
Emmaline stared at the painting. They always looked different away from the easel, as if they had been hiding their true selves from her all those hours she worked.
Now, she could look at the work not as the artist, but as a viewer, and she was pleased to say it was good. In fact, this might be one of the finest portraits she had ever completed.
“It is magnificent,” said Lord Seton, leaning close to examine the details and squeezing her hand in his. “You have captured my likeness completely.”
