Page 4 of Romancing the Artist

It took a moment for Caroline to suppress her laugh. “Thank you, Alfie. That is most kind of you.”

Victor’s solemn gaze rested on her a moment longer before he asked, “Will you miss us?”

Caroline looked from one familiar face to the next, drinking in the sight and feel of her family surrounding her. Loving her. Supporting her, even if it meant letting her go her own way for a little while. Her mother’s eyes softened, and Papa’s smile seemed wistful. They probably understood her need for this journey better than she suspected.

“Yes, darling. I will miss all of you. Very, very much.” Though her heart squeezed painfully with that truth, it also whispered to her of the excitement she would face when stepping into the world at last, all on her own. To Inglewood for the summer.

Chapter 2

Everly Refuge had been in the family for four generations, but it hadn’t been christened until Edward’s father took on the estate. When Edward shuffled into the parlor, his eyes naturally went to the Latin inscription etched into the stone mantel: Refugium a tribulationibus mundi.

“Refuge from the troubles of the world,” he translated aloud, then snorted. They were each the authors of their own troubles. He had ample evidence of that in his own four-and-twenty years of life. He dropped into a chair near the hearth, exhausted despite a full night’s rest. His previous evening’s activity had taxed him, mentally if not physically; he hadn’t quite recovered from the taxing requirements foisted upon him as a dinner guest.

He hadn’t had much choice in regard to attending the dinner, thanks to a long-standing notion that the family he’d visited and his own had fostered for well on a decade.

Five minutes or so after Edward sat, glaring at the family motto, his father came into the room—his spectacles perched on the edge of his nose and humming to himself. Mr. Samuel Everly took the chair across from Edward’s, also near the fire.

“Good morning, my boy. I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“I haven’t much of an appetite this morning, sir.” Edward half-smiled, though his father wasn’t even looking his direction. Edward shared dark hair and blue eyes with his father, as did his elder sisters, but there was little else about them that was similar. He was just as tall as the older man, but Edward was far less practical and prone to distraction.

“Don’t neglect your nutrition, son.” His father patted his rounded middle to drive home his point. Leaning forward in his seat, he fixed his gaze upon Edward. "How was your dinner at the Kimballs' home yestereve?" His voice carried a note of curiosity tinged with concern. "Did Miss Kimball seem well?"

Edward's gaze dropped, and he sank deeper into his chair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing upon him. "She appeared to be in the best of health," he replied, his voice tinged with a touch of resignation. Mariah Kimball had made every effort to maintain a distance, to avoid any hint of affection or interest towards him, be it as a friend or otherwise.

Edward knew all too well the reasons behind her actions. Mariah, despite her own desires, had yet to find a way to convince her parents that she and Edward were not suited for each other. It was an imperative task for her, as she harbored deep feelings for someone else, someone whom her parents would never approve of.

It was a shame she felt the need to go to such lengths when they’d always been friendly toward one another in the past. But neither of them saw an alternative means without Edward giving insult to the family, and angering his own parents in the process.

“Such a bright young lady,” his father remarked before opening his book. “Your mother had her to tea three days ago. She told your mother that she had no wish to ever leave Alderton. Not like other young women who are always speaking of Paris as though it is the center of the world.” He scoffed. “Miss Kimball is a practical woman.”

“I know.” Edward fought against the impulse to grit his teeth. His parents made it obvious to everyone in the neighborhood how fond they were of Mariah, and how much they hoped for Edward to grow fond of her, too. His father thought Mariah a safe match, due to her pragmatism. Mother praised Mariah’s dedication to domestic skills an angelic virtue. They were as determined as Mr. and Mrs. Kimball were to make a match of Edward to Mariah.

In fact, it seemed everyone believed Edward and Mariah were a perfect pair. Apparently, they need only exist near one another in order to qualify for assured marital bliss. Edward had nothing against his neighbors. They were everything decent and correct, as far as society went. And he knew the good qualities of Mariah’s character, because they had grown up as friends.

What no one other than Edward seemed to know was that she had fallen in love with someone her parents were unlikely to accept as a future son-in-law while they yet viewed Edward as a viable choice.

It didn’t matter if her parents would never approve of her choice. Not to Mariah. But sworn to secrecy on the matter by Mariah before the matchmaking had begun in earnest, Edward couldn’t disabuse their parents of their hopes without giving his friend away.

“They had a fine wheat harvest last winter,” his father muttered, turning pages in his book until he came to the right one. “Rich land. Well-tended. Unentailed, too.”

Ah, yes. The ever-important consideration of land. Another virtue in his father’s eyes. If Edward made an offer for Miss Kimball, her parents were bound to tie up some of their land in the dowry or bridal agreement.

“Not like our estate,” Edward noted, keeping his eyes on the family motto carved into the hearth. The weight of his words made the momentary silence between parent and child heavy. He felt his father’s gaze boring a hole into his skull.

They had argued about the entailment and what it meant for the family’s future before.

It felt as though they were about to revisit that argument.

“It will still pass to you. The whole of it. Unencumbered by debts. Because I have done my duty by the family.” It was a point of pride for Mr. Everly that he had never found himself in debt to another man, and that he’d cleared all the debt his father left when he’d passed. But Samuel Everly hadn’t taken risks, either. Never invested in something that might improve their lands or their family coffers. “Speculating in the stock exchange, investing in risky ventures, is no better than playing cards in a gambling hell,” he had said time and again.

Edward’s father spoke often against the things he viewed as vices. Travel, for one. “A waste of time and money. And look at your sister Hope. Her obsession with travel nearly killed her, marooned as she was on that island. Lucky she got off of it in one piece. But then what did she do? Married an ambassador, and we haven’t seen her since.” Then there were his views on art. “Imagine spending hundreds of pounds on a portrait of yourself. Vanity. Better to spend those funds on an education or land improvements.”

His father had no use for everything Edward liked or dreamed of.

“Nothing matters so much in this world as family honor and upholding your family’s name. Respect for that, for your mother, for me, is what will make you an honorable and successful man, Edward.”

The memories of those lectures blended with his father’s current words. “I’ve raised you better than my father raised me or my brother—God rest both their souls. You know your duty, as you should.”