A hopeful thrill cascaded through her at the possibility. Ever since reading Aunt Mabry’s reason for bequeathing Silver Meadows to Joanna instead of to her, she’d been anxious to accomplish what burned inside her. Now, with this man, it might be possible. Then again, she may fail miserably. She looked at the white balls of paper littering the room. “But if I fail, I’ll be married with no hope of ever reaching my destiny.”
Mariel’s body stiffened as she straightened her shoulders. “That is true, but I can attest to the fact that you will live beyond it. Mother has and is very happy.” What Mariel didn’t say was that she had lived after her dreams of marriage to Marcus Stratton had died, and she was happy, though that was not true even if she thought she was.
Sympathy for her older sister filled her and she firmed her resolve. At least she was being given a chance. She shouldn’t be complaining. Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around Mariel. “You’re right. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her sister squeezed her back then set her away. “Now let me see how you look. You are about to accept your future husband.”
Suddenly nervous, she looked down and realized she wore her painting apron. Untying it, she threw it over the back of the nearby chair. She’d chosen a pale-yellow morning dress in rebellion against the dreary day. She brushed at it with her hands. “Acceptable?”
Mariel smiled. “More than acceptable. Radiant.”
Radiant? She didn’t feel radiant. She felt like David facing Goliath, but that was ridiculous. Lord Sommerset was just a man, not a giant. He may not even want her after the painting was complete. It was that tiny hope that induced her to move toward the door, her sister following.
Just maybe, he was, as her sister said, the inspiration she needed. At the very least, she’d finally be able to give into the creative need that had been plaguing her since she’d first seen the man.
When Mariel’s footsteps stopped before they reached the door, Amelia turned to find her sister’s brows furrowed as she scanned the room. “Should we send the maid up to clear these away?” Mariel held her hand out toward the many balls of crumpled paper that littered the floor.
Viewing the scene through Mariel’s eyes, she smirked. “No. I need them to give me the right atmosphere.”
Her sister’s brows rose. “Are you painting a back alleyway?”
Already feeling hopeful again, she grinned and grasped Mariel’s hand to pull her toward the door. “No, but that’s a wonderful idea. I was thinking of a snow scene.”
“Ah, it does look a little like when we played in the snow as children at Thornwood.”
They stepped into the upper corridor, and she pulled the key from her dress pocket. After locking the door, she faced Mariel. “We should do so again this winter. We can catch snowflakes!”
“We are far too old for such antics now.” Mariel shook her head. “It’s just not done.”
She stuck her tongue out at her sister as she followed her to the stairs. There was so much more to life than being calm and well-behaved. She never understood why it was important to remain so in one’s private moments. How did throwing balls of paper on her floor hurt anyone? Then again, there would have been no paper to throw if she could have sketched Lord Sommerset as he actually appeared.
At that thought, her pique returned. With no more events left in the season, she’d have to wait until spring before she could have him sit for her. That would strain her patience now that she knew she would finally have him as a model.
Mariel led the way and stopped just outside the closed double doors of the parlor to look at her.
Through the doorway, they could hear the low tones of the men’s voices inside. Oddly, she could tell which was Lord Sommerset’s though she couldn’t hear what he said.
Excitement wrestled with her fear, and she ignored both, despite the imaginary mice running about in her stomach. Putting on a smile, she nodded to Mariel. Her sister opened the doors, and she strode in first.
“Lord Sommerset, it is lovely to see you again.” And indeed it was, as the man looked resplendent in a brown tailcoat, tan pantaloons, a cream-colored waistcoat, and white shirt.Lion. The word whispered through her mind even as she fought the urge to run back upstairs and sketch him immediately. “I hope your mother is well.”
“Thank you. She is a little tired from last evening, but she was very happy to have met you and your sister.”
“I enjoyed meeting her and viewing all of your artwork.”
“I’m pleased that you found my pieces interesting.”
If she hadn’t been focused on him, she would have missed the slight stiffening in his shoulders. Immediately, she understood that his artwork, so much of it forgeries, concerned him. Before she could think of something else to discuss to take his mind off his disappointment, Lord Harewood added his greeting.
When the pleasantries had been exchanged, she took a seat on the settee and Mariel joined her. If nothing else, it allowed the men to sit. Lord Sommerset took the chair closest to her, but Lord Harewood remained standing, like a forbidding raven ready to fly down and devour the dead carcass of a canary.
She blinked to remove the image from her head and looked at Lord Sommerset instead. If only she could memorize his face at the least.
“Lady Amelia, I have decided to accept your proposal. So I ask you again. Will you be my wife after all the conditions you put forth are met?”
Her heart skipped over a beat as Lord Sommerset smiled, a certain gleam in his eye she hadn’t seen before. An uneasy shiver crawled up her spine as if she were staring into the eyes of a lion and she was the prey.
—
