Surprised, but pleased by his decision not to extend his time with her, she smiled and gave him a nod. “I will await your response.”
Tipping his hat and bowing, he then turned on his heel and headed back down the walk the way he’d come, his step brisk.
Needing time to consider the afternoon’s turn of events herself, she continued toward her mother, who now stood with furrowed brow.
“Did Lord Sommerset not wish to come inside for tea?” Her mother looked past her, most likely watching the man in question walk away.
“No. He has other plans.” As in he planned to think about her proposal.
Her mother’s gaze moved to her. “You do know he hasn’t called upon a single woman all season.”
She hooked her mother’s arm with her own and opened one library door. Oddly enough, her father was nowhere to be seen once they stepped inside. She untied her bonnet and unbuttoned her spencer. “Yes, I’m aware of the gossip, and he would prefer no one know he visited here.” At least, that was what she preferred, so it wasn’t an outright lie.
Her mother, who walked across the room, stopped. “Whyever not?”
That was a good question. Moving past her mother, she exited the library into the corridor. “Because it wasn’tthatkind of call.” She looked up half expecting her deceased sister Belinda to strike her down for lying to their mother. “He only wished to relate his concern about a forgery he’d purchased unknowingly.”I’m sorry Belinda. I’m just never going to be as good as you.
Her mother caught up to her just as she handed her outerwear to Channing.
“Oh dear, that is quite unfortunate. I’m to guess that he learned of your expertise in that area?” She handed her cloak off to Channing as well.
Not before he’d arrived, but she nodded anyway. “Yes, and he requested advice. I’m surprised he didn’t simply consult his friend, Lord Harewood. That man likes to pretend he’s an expert on every subject.”
“The son of our neighbors in Bedford?” Her mother’s pretty blue eyes softened. “They are lovely people. Though I haven’t seen young Harewood for many years.” She paused as she thought. “He went off to Oxford and then shipped to Europe for a few years. His parents are quite pleased with him. He’s already taken on management of one of their estates.”
The last person she wanted her mother to be thinking about was Lord Harewood. It was no secret that she had longed for one of her daughters to marry the man. And with the season coming to a close after Lady Dulac’s ball at the end of the week, they would be headed back to Bedford when visits to the Harewood estate would no doubt ensue.
“I am quite happy keeping Lord Sommerset’s call to myself, especially since he simply sought my expertise.” Maybe not simply, but she wasn’t beyond a small lie to keep her life moving in the direction she wanted, especially since her mother was still a champion of her painting. That would change in a year or two when she was in her second or third season and at the risk of becoming a spinster. She must create her masterpiece as soon as creatively possible.
Her mother jumped upon the change in subject. “What do you think about the earl now that you have spent some time with him?”
“I think he is a passionate art collector and a rather liberal minded thinker.”
Her mother grasped her arm. “But what do you think about his appearance. I have to say that even though I haven’t lifted a paintbrush in over twenty-three years, I was wishing I had one today. I do believe the sun came out just to shine on that young man’s handsome features.”
She grinned. If anyone knew how difficult it was to be a female painter, it was her mother. “That’s a bit fanciful, but I agree. In fact, if you don’t need me, I’d like to run up into my studio and do a few sketches.”
Her mother laughed, releasing her arm. “Please go. If you can draw from memory, I won’t delay you. I was never able to develop that skill.”
Giving her mother a kiss on the cheek, she ascended the stairs as quickly as possible. She hadn’t actually developed the skill either, but she hoped she could get something done in the next few minutes. Maybe, just maybe if she could, she could withdraw her ill-conceived proposal.
Chapter Two
Andrew Crauford, Earlof Sommerset, strode down the street fighting his need to whistle. He could still smell the light violet scent Lady Amelia wore that gave the impression the garden had flowers. She even sported a splash of lavender paint on her cheek.
After avoiding being alone with any woman all season, he’d finally agreed with his closest friend, Harewood, that he would need to choose one to marry and quickly. He’d never expected to receive a proposal in return, and possibly an alternative option.
He tipped his hat to a young woman and her mother whom he’d met during the season. Edith? Eleanor? Elsbeth? One of those was her name. She, like many others, had not intrigued him in the least. To be fair, neither did Lady Amelia, who though quite pretty with pale blonde hair, blue– almost violet– eyes, and a pert nose, had not piqued his interest during the season. Despite her constant pleasant disposition, he’d found her unsettling. She reminded him of a fairy like the ones in the watercolor done by William Blake, almost unearthly in appearance and disposition. She wasn’t untoward, exactly. If pushed to explain his impression, he would say she was impish. It always seemed as if she knew something no one else knew and found it amusing. Though she followed a conversation perfectly, even adding a witty remark on occasion, the topics she chose were unusual and unimportant.
It was his closest friend, Felton Enderly, Earl of Harewood, who had revealed that Lady Amelia might be of interest due to her ability as an artist. She had never brought that to his attention in their meager interactions, and considering she’d been invited to exhibit at the London Art Academy, he found that unique. Did she not think her talent was worthy of notice? It was as if she found herself as amusing as everyone around her.
A carriage pulled up beside him and halted. He glanced at the coat of arms and grinned. He should have guessed. When the door swung open, he didn’t wait for a footman and bounded into the conveyance. “You couldn’t wait.” Dropping into the seat opposite of Harewood, he shook his head, stifling a smile.
“Of course I couldn’t. It’s not every day I have a good friend proposing to a woman he knows little about.” The Earl of Harewood looked down his nose as if it was to be accepted that he be entitled to knowing all. The man’s coloring was the exact opposite from himself with almost black hair, and eyes the color of spring leaves. The fact that he always dressed in dark hues gave him the appearance of being quite a somber individual, but Andrew knew better.
“Yousuggested Lady Amelia. I would never have considered her.” He crossed his arms, curious as to why Harewood suddenly appeared to have what could only be called cold feet. Had he discovered something about the lady’s character that would not bode well for marriage? He could understand that after the bargain she’d just proposed.
Harewood knocked on the ceiling of the carriage with his cane before answering. As they lurched forward, he waved his hand. “Of course I did. Anything to keep you from considering one of the Worthington sisters. I don’t think my wife and I could stand to call on you then.”
