Page 35 of Romancing the Artist

Edward took the parcels away to the gig but didn’t miss when Charity said, “I will forgive you for taking his side, Miss Clapham, but only because you put him in a better mood. You do not know him as we do, but he is most unpleasant when he is out of temper.”

If he had thought of lingering over his brief errand, his sister’s words made him move with greater haste. He didn’t need to give Charity or Patience any time to fill Caroline’s head with misrepresentations of Edward’s character. Tease though they might, he liked Caroline. And he wanted her to like him.

Yes, he was willing to admit he liked her. Despite their few meetings, he liked her a great deal. Enough to consider her a friend. Though their acquaintance was quite new, of course. And she had undertaken a rather daunting task, and that situation had forced a bond of trust upon them. Hadn’t it?

And yes, he found her pretty. But he’d admitted that much about any number of women. Pretty was a simple descriptor for a woman of pleasant countenance.

Though, why he stood outside the tea shop sorting through his thoughts, he didn’t know. Especially when he had told himself he couldn’t allow his sisters time alone with Caroline. Edward removed his hat as he stepped inside and went directly to the staircase to take him above, where the ladies had already settled at a small table, sitting upon delicate chairs with spindly legs.

Edward took the last remaining chair, the one across from Caroline and between his two sisters. They were already speaking on the subject of bonnets, and he hadn’t any way to enter the conversation without sounding remarkably stupid or overly eager.

So he waited for the topic to change.

By the time the tea arrived, his sisters had moved into discussing the number of ruffled hems a woman might wear on the bottom of her skirt before it became ridiculous. Yet another matter he knew nothing about. Somehow, though, Caroline made the subject interesting.

“My papa claims you can accurately estimate a lady’s dowery based on the number of flounces at her hem,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Two flounces, a respectable amount. Three, modest but nothing that would encourage a fortune hunter. When you come to six of those ruffles lines, you have found an heiress.” Edward lowered his head to hide his grin but his sisters giggled appreciatively.

Caroline poured for everyone, and Edward had a moment to thank her before Charity pressed to know more about Caroline’s lace gloves from the picnic.

He’d wondered once how ladies spent so much time talking of their clothing. He’d never spent more than a minute to tell a man where he bought his boots or ask another for the name of his tailor. But the women at his table had touched on every item of their wardrobes that they could feasibly speak upon, at least in public. And for each article, Caroline had a quip that was either self-depreciating or comically obvious.

“Have you seen those dreadful bonnets that look as though they were inspired by the plague doctor masks?” she asked, holding her hands in a cup around her cheeks. “Or are they meant to be like blinders on cart horses?”

Edward knew what she spoke of. “I’ve seen bonnets that kept gentlemen from catching so much as a glimpse of a woman’s face unless they were directly in front of one another.”

To this Caroline replied, “Ah, perhaps that is the reason for them, then. They annoy unwanted suitors.”

Laughter from Charity and Patience made others in the tearoom turn to look at them with censorious glances. At least from the married women in the room. Edward noted one unmarried gentleman among them who was smiling in Charity’s direction. Perhaps he needed to purchase such a bonnet for his sister.

“The worst of it is dancing slippers,” Charity said, shaking her head. “They always look so lovely when we first put them on. Soft satin, pretty embroidered toes, and ribbons that shimmer tied on our ankles. And then we actually dance in them, and they are ruined.”

Patience sighed. “At least you get to attend balls and assemblies to dance.”

“When will you be out?” Caroline asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“I am only seventeen.” Patience’s smile turned to a glum frown. “Charity wasn’t permitted to attend public assemblies until she was nineteen.”

“But private balls at eighteen,” Charity reminded her sister with a soft smile. “And you are not missing much. You know all the gentlemen who attend such things from church and market days.”

Caroline met Edward’s gaze and raised her eyebrows. “Are there many private balls here?”

“More than enough, if you ask me,” he answered.

“Edward complains every time there is a dance,” Patience informed their new friend.

“I find many gentleman share those sentiments.” Caroline cast him a knowing glance and Edward crossed his arms. “What activities do you enjoy when it comes to socializing with your friends and neighbors, Mr. Everly?”

“Picnics,” he said with raised eyebrows. “Perhaps a walk in the woods.”

The slow curl of her smile robbed him of whatever clever thing he’d meant to say next. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned to ask Charity if she wanted another morsel of cake. His sister already stared at him more intently than she ever had a teacake. Edward blinked at her, confused, and she abruptly shifted her gaze to their younger sister.

“Patience, dear, I have suddenly remembered. Mama needed one more thing from the shop downstairs. Will you come with me? Your tastes are more attuned to hers than my own.”

Patience’s eyebrows raised. Within their family, they all knew how often their mother and her youngest child argued over fashion. She glanced toward Edward and stood up. “Yes, of course. Do stay and finish your cake, Miss Clapham. Edward will keep you company until we return.”

“We will not be long,” Patience affirmed with an overly bright smile. “Do not bore her to pieces, Edward.”

The two of them left, weaving between tables occupied by others, then down the steps.