Page 22 of Romancing the Artist

“That is a relief,” she told him, “as it saves me from explaining the whole of it to you.”

He stopped walking with such abruptness that she took another step without him, her arm catching his in a way that made her stumble. He tightened his hold on her, steadying her with ease.

“Do you truly mean to help us?” he demanded, his brow creased and lips turned downward.

Two young girls a few feet away from them paused in their clapping game to look their way. Caroline cast them a reassuring smile, then gave Edward enough of a yank that he had to start walking again. She whispered, “As I said, you have no talent for subtlety.”

He grumbled, “Skirting around an issue never helps anyone. And we are desperate, Miss Clapham.” He finally lowered his voice to match hers, drawing her along to a place where the orchard gave way to older, different sorts of trees. Caroline stopped him beneath the shade of an oak.

“You hardly appear desperate.” Caroline pulled her arm from his and barely resisted the inclination to put both hands on her hips, as she would to take her younger siblings to task for poor behavior. “The two of you promenaded through that picnic as though you were already a comfortable old married couple. If you keep up such behavior, you will end your stroll at a church altar with your brother-in-law pronouncing you ‘man and wife.’”

“What would you have us do?” he asked, both hands coming up to ward off her prediction of future events. “I haven’t any intention of marrying anyone. But Mariah’s parents have expectations, as do my own, and neither of us want to hurt our families or force their hands.” He shuddered and took a step away before turning, his back to her. “I apologize for drawing you into our personal affairs.”

He no longer seemed like the man in the woods. Quick to smile and tease. Charming her with his deep blue eyes. Instead, his whole being radiated tension and impatience. “You needn’t apologize. If Miss Kimball told you of my plan, I hope she told you it was my decision to help. If you still want my help, Mr. Everly.”

His shoulders dropped and he chuckled, the sound without much mirth. “For all that I lack delicacy in conversation, Miss Clapham, you have a talent for frankness.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a compliment,” she responded, then had to cover her smile. He was correct, of course. Though she knew when to mind her words well enough around others. Something about this man, perhaps due to the unexpected way he had entered her life without any regard for the niceties of society, had made her forget to curb her tongue. She spoke to him the way she did to her family.

When he turned around again, eyebrows raised, she spoke with sincerity. “I apologize, Mr. Everly. We are strangers. I will refrain from speaking so freely in future.”

“Zeus, Miss Clapham, I hope not.”

She blinked. Had she ever heard someone invoke the Greek god of thunder that way? Her stepfather had a colorful vocabulary that he regularly apologized for, but his references to the things above and below earth were always quite biblical.

He misinterpreted her confusion, given his sheepish smile and the way he averted his eyes. “What I meant was, I find it refreshing to hear someone speak as candidly as you do. It was one of the things I immediately liked when we met.”

Her cheeks warmed. Was he flirting? She couldn’t tell. She knew when Jill’s brother attempted to flirt with her, and she never blushed at his clumsy compliments. Perhaps the excitement of the day and discomfort of the situation had finally taken effect. Caroline ignored the blush. Hopefully, he wouldn’t pay it attention either.

“Thank you. I think.” She looked through the trees, seeing only slivers of the picnic they had left behind amid the trunks and branches. “I must ask you what I asked Miss Kimball. Why not tell your parents that you have no matrimonial intentions toward her? For one who admires candor, it ought to be a simple matter of one conversation.”

“One would think that.” He shoved his hand through his hair, making the artistic wave near his forehead into a shabby likeness of a birds’ nest instead. “But our families have been connected for generations, in friendship and as neighbors. If her family thought I had insulted her, it would damage the relationship between the two households.” He met her gaze. “My parents wouldn’t be able to do much to me, of course. One of the benefits of being a man in his majority.” His smile was bitter. “But there are ways they could exercise their displeasure. It is Mariah I am worried for. She believes her parents would send her away if she defied them outright.”

“Ridiculous,” Caroline muttered, crossing her arms in front of her. “You have both let expectations, gossip, and a lack of honesty to bring you to this most unfortunate point.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, an incredulous smirk on his lips. “It is a rather convoluted mess.” He stepped closer, and Caroline realized how lovely it was to stand up straight while speaking with a gentleman and have his eyes slightly above the level of her own. Tall as she was, most gentlemen of her acquaintance met her gaze eye-to-eye. “Perhaps the two of us are trapped because we care about our families and one another.”

“You are speaking in riddles,” she told him. Then she tilted her chin up and allowed herself one hand upon her hip. “I want to know one thing only. Do you intend to go through with my plan or not? If not, we have nothing more to say and we ought to return to the picnic, Mr. Everly.”

“I intend to go through with your plan.”

Caroline’s gasp escaped despite herself. Then she pressed her lips together and nodded once. “Good.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Because of your earlier candor, and the intelligence I can sense you possess, you will not mind if I ask a few questions.”

Caroline couldn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice. He sounded desperate, and his whole body bent toward her with a beseeching posture. “I will not mind, Mr. Everly. I would be alarmed if you didn’t have questions.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Go on.”

“How do you benefit from helping us?”

“In no way at all,” she answered easily. “I like Mariah. When she confided her troubles in me, a complete stranger, I wanted to help. My own parents have provided me with everything I need to achieve my dreams, my happiness. It seems a shame that she believes her family cares nothing about her ability to do the same.”

“Mariah is as good as she seems. It makes sense you would want to help her, even after a short acquaintance.” He relaxed and the tension drained from his expression. His grin had disappeared, but so had the worried furrows in his brow. The poor man. In keeping his word to a friend, he had tied himself to a situation over which he had no control. Because he was a concerned friend.

“Our conversation is remarkably honest, considering what strangers we are to one another.” Caroline said, more gently than before, “I think you must be a good man, too, Mr. Everly. I am happy to help you, too.”

“You cannot be a real person,” he stated simply, staring at her with open confusion. “You must be that sprite I found in the woods. Or else, I suppose, an artist of great integrity in both her craft and in her words.”

Warmth spread upward from her chest and into her blood. That they barely knew one another made his words weigh more, at least in that circumstance. He had identified her as what she wanted to be more than anything in the world. An artist. And he used that identification to deduce what mattered to her.