Page 38 of Romancing the Artist

His sisters finally returned, exclaiming over the time and an appointment with a friend. Edward had no choice but to lead all three of them away from the table, through the shop, and onto the street again. It was there they took their leave of Miss Clapham, who went in search of the driver who had brought her from Inglewood Castle to Alderton.

As Edward handed his sisters into their gig, he finally asked, “Why did you two abandon us at the table? It doesn’t look as though you made any more purchases, despite being away for an age.”

Charity and Patience exchanged a knowing glance, then Patience answered, “It didn’t look as though you minded us being gone. In fact, you and Miss Clapham appeared rather cozy.”

He crossed his arms and stood there, in the street, looking up at his sisters. “What can you mean? We were merely having a conversation. And running out of things to say, at that.” It wasn’t precisely true. He had found himself unable to speak because his thoughts had run away with him, making him think excessively about holding Caroline’s hand. If he admitted as much to his sisters, it would help their ruse and harm nothing. Charity and Patience were already shaping a romance for him in their minds, given the evidence before him of their glances and smiles.

“Is she too clever for you?” Patience teased in a false whisper. “Is that why she is difficult to talk to?”

He heaved a sigh. He may as well add a few more lines to the story they were telling themselves. “Rather she is too lovely and charming.” At least he could speak with sincerity. That would be his only chance at getting away with things. To tell half-truths rather than attempt to bluff his way through the farcical relationship.

Charity’s lips parted. “Edward. Do you hear yourself?”

Patience put her chin in her hand and widened her eyes to a comical size. “I knew we hadn’t imagined the twinkle in your eye when Miss Clapham joined us for tea. Doth your heart skip a beat at the sound of her voice?” As she teased, her eyes sparkled with amusement.

Edward started and dropped his arms in his alarm. He could answer that question, quite honestly, with a yes. But he wouldn’t. He refused to go that far. “That’s—it’s ridiculous. To say—”

Charity chimed in, “You needn’t deny it, Edward. It is obvious to us that there is an attraction between you.”

“Yes, you positively glowed the moment you saw her on the street,” Patience added with unconcealed glee. “She’s witty, too. Though we really must come to know her better before you decide on a match.”

He opened his mouth to deny it again, to argue—and then recalled himself to his senses yet again. He needed his sisters to think such a thing. Because if they believed it, his parents would believe it, too. Denial didn’t serve his purpose, though his stomach flipped and turned, and he dearly wanted to tell them both to mind their own business.

Charity continued where her sister left off. “A match? Edward can hardly hope for such a thing. He is abysmal at flirtation. I doubt he would have said two words to Miss Clapham if we hadn’t left them alone together.”

“Are you saying I’m shy?” Edward spluttered.

His sisters shrugged, in unison. Had it not occurred to them he couldn’t speak so much as a sentence while they had discussed fashion without ceasing?

“I am not shy.” No one had ever accused him of such a thing before. Until he grew from youth to adult, many would have said the opposite thing to be true. He’d been accused of brazen and bold behavior by his professors all through his education.

“Not shy in general terms. Perhaps it is an affliction brought on by finally meeting a woman you like. Such a circumstance is not unheard of,” Charity said, taking up the reins. “Will you at least admit that you had an easier time of things when we left?”

“Indeed. Miss Clapham appeared quite refreshed after your conversation,” Patience added. “Did you see the twinkle in her eye when she bid us farewell? I think she rather likes you, too, Edward.”

Edward’s face flushed at his sisters’ teasing. “You two are insufferable,” he muttered, but he allowed them to see a smile tug at his lips.

He hadn’t meant to perform for his sisters, at least at first. Had Caroline? Or had his sisters seen something real when they observed her enjoyment?

That thought had to stop before it fully sunk into his consciousness. Edward dutifully shoved it aside. The sprite didn’t like him as anything other than an acquaintance, perhaps a friend. His attraction to her was one-sided and easily overcome, thanks to his determination to remain a bachelor.

“Perhaps we are insufferable,” Charity said, a grin on her face. “But we’re also quite observant. You like her.” She slapped leather to horse, commanding the animal forward, and she shouted over her shoulder to Edward, “Whether you admit it or not!”

He heard his sisters’ laughter. Shook his head. Then accepted the lead for his mount after he handed the boy another coin. He’d follow his sisters home, of course, but not too closely. A man teetering on the edge of…something…didn’t need his sisters’ teasing to distract him from his purpose. Falling in love, marrying someone, would not grant him freedom. It would take what little he had left.

With Caroline Clapham, there wasn’t any truth to a courtship between them. Merely the illusion of one. Even though when he looked into her eyes, he’d had an odd feeling. That feeling of being on the edge of a cliff, anticipating a fall, ought to be unpleasant. Yet Edward’s instinct wasn’t to pull back. The sensation was too heady. Almost pleasant.

And for once in his life, whatever brink it was Edward stood upon, he wasn’t about to let anyone push him over the edge. Not until he knew what consequences waited below.

Chapter 12

As Claude Everly stepped out of the carriage, Edward wished, not for the first time, that Claude’s physical characteristics matched the vices of which his cousin was guilty. But instead, those who thought beauty a virtue in and of itself would find no fault with the man.

The family stood in a line, waiting to welcome their cousin and nephew, while he brushed dust from the road from his shoulders and gave commands to his manservant and the Everly footmen.

Claude was a sight to be seen. He had copper-colored hair that shone in the sunlight, longer than fashionable, and curling, framing his hollow cheekbones. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, with a hint of something sharp in their depths. He stood tall and confident, with a lean frame. Edward immediately felt awkward and overly large, and his hands curled into fists behind his back.

Claude looked as fit and athletic as the racing horses he rode into the ground, before he used them until they were spent by his rough ways and constant urging. Edward had heard his mother declare the recklessness an Everly trait, one that Hope had nearly allowed to lead her to ruin. But Hope had never had the cruel tilt to her smile that Claude employed the moment he caught Edward’s gaze.