“I am.” She locked the door then meandered her way back to the unfinished watercolor. Studying it, she could see no major errors. Yes, there was much more to do, but it was passable and there was certainly no reason for her sister to get flustered. “I’m confused why my sister would be embarrassed.” She moved her gaze from the painting to him. “Not only has she been married and widowed, but before that she was betrothed to a man she loved with all her heart.” She pointed to the painting. “I’m confused why this would cause her to blush.”
“I see. So your confusion is with your sister’s reaction to the painting and perhaps my state of undress?”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “My Aunt Mabry had no such qualms at viewing the classic statues of Greece, nor did I for that matter. The human form is simply an aesthetic.”
Sommerset leaned his hip on the stool next to him as his lips quirked in what surely was amusement. “If I may, I have a theory on your sister’s reaction.”
Convinced he was about to tease her, she crossed her arms. “And that is?”
“First, I would like to suggest that though she and her first love—”
“That would be Marcus Stratton, second son to the Viscount of Blackmore.”
He cocked his head then continued. “As I was saying, though your sister was betrothed to Mr. Stratton, if he was indeed worthy of her, I doubt she viewed him without his shirt. In fact, my impression of your sister is that she is quite proper and would not have allowed anything beyond a few chaste kisses.”
A little uncomfortable with the fact that she had obviously gone beyond what was proper in his eyes and society’s, she unfolded her arms and shrugged her right shoulder. “Yes, I imagine you are correct. But then she married the Earl of Beaumont, so she should be knowledgeable of the male form.”
He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “The male form? You speak of it as if it is a piece of artwork.”
“It is. The human form, though complex, is a wonderful piece of art. Though Joanna would say it is a marvelous feat of science.”
“Ah, I see.” He stood and walked away, his back to her, his hastily donned shirt falling to mid-thigh and covering up his own well-made form. Finally, he turned back. “The Earl of Beaumont? Was he not rather along in his years?”
She grimaced. “Older than my father.”
He crossed one arm and rested his other elbow on it, his chin upon his fist. “Why did she choose to marry him?”
She looked away, not liking where the conversation had led. “I think we should return to the painting.” Stepping closer to the easel, she felt a certain comfort in its presence.
“Amelia.”
At his familiar use of her name, she sucked in her breath. “Yes?”
“Why did your oldest sister marry a man old enough to be her father?”
As much as she didn’t want to discuss it, they had gone far beyond the usual bounds of society anyway, so he might as well know. “She married him to save our family. My father had an unscrupulous solicitor, and we were on the verge of being destitute.” She shivered at the memory of the dinner when her father told them. “It had not been long after Mariel had news of Mr. Stratton’s demise at the hands of Napoleon’s army, and she had become a shadow of herself. I even feared she’d follow Belinda to the grave.”
She clasped her hands together and stared at them, the feeling of possibly losing another sister still lingered in her heart. “She offered to marry to assure our family’s continued happiness. Though my parents argued against it, and my sister Joanna assured her she could bring us back to comfort within a few years, Mariel found the perfect husband. Lord Beaumont was old, desperate for an heir, and very wealthy. My father, Joanna, and our new solicitor drew up the marriage contract and the two married within the month.”
“And so your family kept your comfort at the discomfort of your sister. Old Beaumont died with no heir, so I imagine that added more wealth to your coffers.”
At his harsh tone, she snapped her head up, but he was turned away, his thoughts hidden. She’d never heard him speak so. Hesitantly, she answered his implied question. “It did, but the wonderful piece is that we got our Mariel back. I think marrying and running a household for Lord Beaumont gave her life purpose again after Mr. Stratton died. When she returned home, she seemed at peace.”
“Hmm, I imagine.”
Something in his tone made her want to comfort him but also clearly indicated she shouldn’t pry. Too curious to let it go, she had to ask. “Do you find what Mariel did to save our family wrong?” She didn’t like that thought and stood ready to defend her sister.
He faced her, his magnificent shoulders slumping. “No, I understand what she did. It was very noble of her. I know of many women who have sacrificed their…happiness, for their family. I only thought of her and how uncomfortable it must have been to marry someone of such an advanced age and so desperate for an heir.”
Something in his tone told her that he spoke of things she knew little about, but as long as he thought Mariel noble, she was satisfied. She strode back to the easel. They had spent far too long on Mariel. Picking up her brush, she made a slight correction in the color of Sommerset’s hair. Or should she think of him as Andrew now?
“What are you doing? Don’t you need me to pose?” He strode forward. “May I see?”
Surprised by his turnabout in mood, she stepped back. “Of course. You are the subject.”
He stood right next to her to view the watercolor. “That I am, your bowl of fruit, as you described it.”
Heat filled her cheeks. “I did rescind that particular description. If asked now, I would most likely say you were my goat.”
