Page 21 of Romancing the Artist

“Miss Clapham,” Edward said, his dark blue eyes alight with mischief. “I understand you’ve met one of my oldest friends. Miss Kimball speaks quite highly of you, too.”

Miss Kimball’s cheeks had turned rosy. “Indeed. We became fast friends. I hope we will spend a great many hours together.” Her voice was pitched to carry, as though she wanted others to overhear their conversation. Caroline followed suit.

“Thank you. I am at her ladyship’s mercy while I am here, though she has assured me she wishes to fill our schedule with diverting events.” Even if Caroline would much rather stay on Inglewood’s grounds, filling her days with ink and paint.

Miss Kimball took the lead in the conversation, her eyes alight with good cheer as she went on to describe the sorts of ways the neighborhood celebrated the warmer weather. She spoke of outings in the country, bonfires, parties that filled gardens, evenings of storytelling and cards, and Caroline’s stomach twisted itself in knots as she heard of each and every thing that could separate her from her purpose.

And Mariah kept giving significant glances, as though hoping he would say something.

Caroline let her gaze flicker to the silent Edward Everly, noting he smiled steadily at her even while he made no effort to add to Miss Kimball’s exuberance. He appeared amused, and she caught a smirk on his lips that nearly stole her attention with its suggestive tilt.

“What are your favorite things to do, Miss Clapham?” the enthusiastic woman asked at last, her gold eyelashes batting with her curiosity. She sent a frustrated, side-eyed glance in Edward Everly’s direction.

Here at last, the silent man answered before Caroline could speak. “She looks like an artist to me,” he stated with confidence. “Something about the way she carries herself, you see. Perhaps it is in the way she places her hands.”

Caroline’s eyebrows shot up while Miss Kimball blinked at the man in confusion.

“I hold myself no differently than other ladies brought up well,” Caroline corrected. “And my hands have been folded this whole conversation.”

“And hardly a clever supposition, Edward,” Mariah added, narrowing her eyes at him. “As a guest to the countess, it would be natural to suppose such a thing.” She seemed quite annoyed with him. Mariah didn’t intend to play along with whatever game her friend had concocted. She lowered her voice, “This is a horrid way to begin, you know. Miss Clapham will think you troublesome and change her mind about everything.”

At last, evidence that Mr. Everly and Mariah had spoken of Caroline’s idea! She relaxed at once, then smiled. “I can withstand a little teasing, Miss Kimball. It would take more than that to dissuade me from our agreement.”

Mariah’s relief tinted her response. “That is too kind of you.” She raised her voice again. “You must be an artist of some talent, to be a guest to the countess.”

They were having two conversations at once, it would seem. Caroline was perfectly equal to that task. “Lady Inglewood has been my mentor and teacher for a number of years. I still have much to learn, though.”

“Oh, you needn’t be modest, Miss Clapham.” Mr. Everly folded his arms across his chest and tipped his head forward, as though making an examination of her. “If Lady Inglewood has made you her guest on merit of your artistic capabilities alone, you will have a superior talent compared to most.”

“But not all.” Caroline had no intention of comparing herself to anyone in present company. Even if she had passable skills with paint, she couldn’t play pianoforte very well. Nor did her alto-voice lend itself well to most popular music of the day. And she highly doubted Miss Kimball spent her summers climbing cherry trees. Best move the conversation along. “It is a lovely day for a picnic, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.” Mariah gave Edward another pointed look. “A perfect day for a picnic. And perhaps a walk in the orchard. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Everly?”

He readily nodded. “Indeed. Perhaps you would like a tour of the orchard, Miss Clapham?”

“And an opportunity for a more private conversation,” Mariah added quietly, then startled when Miss Patience Everly appeared at her brother’s elbow. “Edward, Mama would like to ask Miss Kimball’s opinion on something regarding their ladies’ sewing circle.”

Even Caroline knew what that meant. Mrs. Everly wanted Edward to escort Miss Kimball to her side, bringing son and potential daughter-in-law into her sphere. The lack of subtly, accompanied by a slight wince from both the gentleman and lady, affirmed Caroline’s guess.

Miss Kimball hadn’t exaggerated the maneuvering of her parents or his, it seemed. She was the hoped-for bride, but Edward Everly wasn’t the man of her choice. The knowing look she shared with him turned to one of commiseration.

The two of them needed help, and neither was eager to disappoint parents or cause gossip. Caroline resisted shaking her head in despair of them both.

The gentleman’s next words were a willful misunderstanding of the summons. “Wonderful. Miss Kimball, while you speak with my mother, I will give our new acquaintance a tour of the orchard. As you have seen it so many times on your visits, you will not mind saving yourself the walk.” In one fluid motion, he moved from Miss Kimball’s side to Caroline’s, and offered her his arm.

Caroline hesitated somewhat awkwardly, her hand frozen at her side and her gaze upon Miss Kimball’s expression. Miss Kimball’s eyebrows raised a touch, but she didn’t appear the least perturbed. Instead, her smile quirked up higher on one side than the other and she gave her erstwhile escort a single nod of acceptance.

It was Miss Patience, the youngest of them, who covered her brother’s graceless retreat. “Precisely what I hoped, Edward. Miss Clapham’s welcome tour cannot be neglected. Come, Miss Kimball. Mama and I are both interested in what you think of the new embroidery patterns she received from France.”

If Caroline hadn’t been watching carefully, she would have missed the sharp look of censure the girl aimed at her brother as she turned away, leading Miss Kimball by the hand. Miss Patience hadn’t caught the silent agreement that passed between the other two.

Edward waggled the elbow he held out to Caroline, a grin in place of the smile that had barely reached his eyes before. “Come along, my mysterious artist. I have an orchard to show you.”

Caroline at last accepted his proffered escort, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow and resting it lightly on his forearm. Children of all ages darted among the roots and branches of the apple trees, and other couples were strolling beneath the shade, too.

Despite the unlikeliness of eavesdroppers, Caroline lowered her voice as she walked with him beneath the trees, away from the picnic area. “There is nothing subtle about you, is there? First you crash through the woods to disturb my afternoon, now you dismiss a young lady when you were clearly meant to remain by her side. Tell me. Are you always so reckless?”

He put his free hand to his heart and affected a hurt expression, his eyebrows drawn sharply together. “Your aim is true, Miss Clapham. I am wounded. Though perhaps you cannot blame me overmuch. I did not know I disturbed anyone in the woods that day, besides the handful of squirrels in the trees. As for Miss Kimball—” He shrugged and frowned at the path ahead of them, winding through the trees. “She told me of the plan you concocted.”