Page 18 of Romancing the Artist

A familiar someone. He’d hoped he’d exaggerated her looks in his memory.

But he hadn’t. His sprite remained as lovely as the first time he saw her.

“Allow me to present my friend and protege, Miss Caroline Clapham. She is staying with us this summer. Her family is from Dunwich. Miss Clapham, here are some of the young people I so hoped for you to meet. Mr. Edward Everly, and his sisters, Miss Charity Everly and Miss Patience Everly. They are, of course, Mrs. Barnes’s siblings.”

Her dark eyes met his, alight with amusement even though her lips remained politely pressed together as she curtsied.

The artist from the clearing—a guest of Lady Inglewood?

Edward’s luck had shifted. Not only did he now know the identity of the mysterious, pretty woman, but her status also gave him the best possible reason to slip free of his mother’s plans. Absolutely no one would fault him for taking up the honor of ensuring the countess’s guest enjoyed her first foray into their society. In fact, most would expect the duty to fall to him and his sisters. At least at this event.

The grin he wore, informal and entirely honest, made Miss Clapham’s eyes widen. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Clapham. We are fortunate to have you visiting, and I dare say you have come at the best season. Summer near the sea is always enchanting.”

“Yes, I know. My own home is near the sea,” she informed him, her voice low and soft. Not the same as it had been when they were alone, yet still quite pleasant to his ears.

“Then you know precisely what I mean.” He couldn’t take his eyes from hers as she studied him, perhaps wondering if he would reveal their prior meeting. Did she also compare that moment to this one?

He thought he’d imagined how charming she was in appearance, with the shadowed wood providing atmospheric enhancements. Yet the bright sunshine revealed he hadn’t invented the curve of her cheek or the sweep of her raised eyebrows. And he couldn’t help staring at her.

An elbow to his ribs, followed by Patience’s voice, pulled him out of the silent communication with the near-stranger. “You must excuse my brother, Miss Clapham.” Patience darted him a surprised glance. “He doesn’t make a habit of gawking at people, usually.”

Miss Clapham’s smile finally slipped free. “Thank you, Miss Patience. I cannot blame anyone for showing exuberance today. The weather is perfect for a picnic.”

Charity stepped forward to eclipse Edward as she expressed her own welcome to the newcomer. “Miss Clapham, I couldn’t agree more. And our friends delight in celebrating the warmer months, especially on days such as this. I hope you will enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you for your kind welcome, Miss Everly. Mr. Everly. Miss Charity.” She curtsied to them, and the earl’s daughter appeared as if from the air, snatching up Miss Clapham’s hand.

“You must come, all my friends are here, and you will meet everyone,” the four-year-old Lady Irene insisted. “Won’t you, Caroline?”

Edward’s ears would have stood on end, had he been a fox. Caroline. What a lovely name.

“Leave her be, Irene,” her older brother, Isaac, said with a shake of his head. “She probably wants to be with the grownups.”

“I haven’t any objection to meeting all of your friends,” the woman said to the children before turning her smile back to Charity. “If you will excuse me, please,” Miss Clapham said, her voice soft and light with merriment. “It seems there are more introductions awaiting me.”

Edward watched her move away to sit beneath a tree where little girls in pastel gowns and bonnets had already claimed a half dozen cushions. It wouldn’t be difficult to steal her away from them. Not once he’d finished his duty to his mother by greeting the rest of the guests.

Charity took a step back to her position beside her brother. “Edward,” she whispered, her lips barely moving. “What was that all about?”

“Hm?” He looked down at her solemnly concerned expression. “What?”

“You looked like you planned to pounce on poor Miss Clapham,” Patience informed him, and Edward saw she studied him from the corners of her eyes. “You showed more teeth than a fox sighting a rabbit.”

Charity tilted forward on her toes enough to peer around her brother to her youngest sister. “How would you know what that looks like?”

“Hush, both of you.” Edward smiled and greeted the baronet, Sir Isaac, his wife, and the two children they brought. The youngest was still an infant, at home with his nurse. But Luther and Faith Fox made their way to sit under the tree where Miss Clapham now held court for the youngest guests of the picnic. Sir Isaac was husband to Lady Inglewood, and the little Isaac who’d gone away with Miss Clapham was named after his uncle.

“Oh, Lord Neil’s daughter,” Lady Fox said when she spied where her children had gone. “I haven’t seen Caroline in ages.”

“You have met her before?” Patience asked before Edward could express his surprise. She seemed as startled as he was. Lord Neil’s daughter? Neil Duncan? The Marquess’s wayward son?

He’d been a favorite topic of neighborhood gossip for years. His journey from scoundrel to outcast to a prosperous farmer had become part of local folklore in the decade since he’d left his father’s home.

Lady Fox raised her gold-red eyebrows at them. “I am surprised you have not spoken to her before now. But then, I suppose their visits here were always rather short and contained.” She waved a hand somewhat dismissively. “Having awkward family relationships will do that, I fear. But it is good they have sent her here at last. Isn’t it, darling?” She smiled up at her husband, who nodded his agreement as they stepped away.

“Grace didn’t mention that anyone else knew her,” Patience murmured as she cast a curious glance in Miss Clapham’s direction.

Edward started. “Grace mentioned Miss Clapham before? To you?”