Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I would have thought. I focused on finishing my butterfly, and Mr. Campbell continued with whatever it was that he was painting. I added a blue sky and a bit of grass to the background, but all it did was make the butterfly look like a wilting flower.
I sighed before wandering toward Mr. Campbell’s canvas. When he finally revealed his painting, I gasped in delight.
It was a somewhat misshapen white duck with an orange bill, floating peacefully on a pond. “You are an artist! That looks precisely like Fanny.”
“I should hope not.” He studied his own work. “If she is truly this disproportionate, you might consider having her health assessed by a gamekeeper.”
I laughed. “It’s still much better than my painting.”
Mr. Campbell smiled at my reaction, but he seemed a little more somber than before, and not inclined to conversation. Had I said something to upset him? I couldn’t imagine what it was. I certainly didn’t want to overstay my welcome, and after so much time in the sun, I was sticky with perspiration.
Mr. Campbell seemed to be experiencing the same thing. He wiped at the beads of sweat on his brow. Perspiration had soaked through the sleeves of his shirt as well. I smiled. I quite liked seeing his imperfections. It made him much more approachable.
“Here,” he said, lifting his painting from the easel. “For you.”
I stifled a laugh. “Are you hoping for my beautiful butterfly in exchange?”
“Of course.”
I pressed my lips together as I took his painting of the duck. “Thank you. I will treasure it.”
He brushed past, lifting my butterfly painting in both hands. He held it up with a smile. “I shall hang it on my wall in a place I’ll pass by often.”
I laughed. “Please don’t think of me when you see it. It is atrocious.”
“I don’t require any prompting to think of you.” The warmth in his eyes made my heart stutter, so I looked down at the grass.
Aunt Julia came to my aid without even knowing, finishing her walk across the garden to examine both our paintings. Her stunned reaction to my butterfly eased the tension I felt, and fresh laughter bubbled out of my chest. Mr. Campbell laughed too, and I already missed the sound by the time Aunt Julia and I began our walk back to Milsom Street.
CHAPTER 18
CLARK
Breakfast each morning with Colin had become a business meeting of sorts. We discussed the events of the day before and planned the day ahead, deciding which events I would attend and what I would wear. That day, Colin’s eyes were slightly swollen, his skin pale. “I hardly slept.”
I studied his dreadful appearance for a long moment. He ate slowly from his plate, staring out the window.Hehad hardly slept? I had been awake for hours reflecting on my interaction with Miss Sharp the day before. I had nearly kissed her. She had seemed as if she wanted me to. My complete lack of control over my heart was alarming, and I had been struggling to school it back into compliance. The hours I had spent trying to do so had only resulted in me thinking even more of her and how delightful and beautiful and aggravating she was. Even knowing what I did of her lies and deception, I still wanted her.
And I wanted her to know that I was not Colin.
My brother let out a long sigh, as if he had been the one burdened with the emotional turmoil and responsibility ofbearing a false identity. I had been reining in my frustration toward him, but it was hanging by a thread.
“I never thought it possible, but I am growing rather bored being away from society,” he said. “My lack of exercise is making me sleep poorly. I haven’t been to any balls or parties since you arrived.”
“Exercise? If I recall, you don’t usually ask any ladies to dance.”
Colin’s brow furrowed. “That is true. But at least I walk through the streets of town and promenade in the gardens.”
“We can end the ruse whenever you wish.” I folded my arms. “I have no objection.”
Colin eyed me for a long moment. “The servants have been relaying gossip to me, and I have been informed that the courtship has become public knowledge.”
“I’ve been as discreet as possible.” I scowled as the realization came over me. “Mrs. Wickerton is in town. She must have already begun spreading rumors.”
Colin leaned forward in his chair. “Wickerton? From home?”
I gave a solemn nod, gritting my teeth. “Unfortunately, yes. She was at the Beresfords’ party. I didn’t think she had any reason to believe I—er—youwere courting Miss Sharp, but she must have gathered enough evidence.”
Colin sighed. “Surely Miss Sharp has been telling all her acquaintances. It would only benefit her to have the public discover your attention toward her.”
