Page 67 of Romancing the Artist

She accepted the large square of linen, one she had embroidered for him with green little frogs in one corner. The sight only made her eyes water more, and suddenly, Caroline burst into a sob. Neil’s teasing ceased entirely and he pulled her close again, running his hand up and down her back.

“It’s all right, ma fille. Whatever it is, it is all right.” Yet she couldn’t seem to stop. How had he known she needed him? That she missed everyone at home? That she felt lost and confused, and that her heart and mind were so full of anxiety she could barely think? She heard him speak above her head, “Lady Inglewood. Good to see you.”

“And you, Lord Neil.” The countess’s voice was soft. “I am glad the rain didn’t delay you. The room across the corridor has a fire burning. You two will have privacy there.”

“Thank you.” Her papa stepped back, tucking Caroline’s arm through his, and led her away without another word. They entered another sitting room, this one facing westward and overlooking the drive where a carriage was being driven toward the stables. Neil sat down, tugging Caroline with him, onto a couch angled toward the fireplace. “What are all these tears for, Cara?”

“I hardly know,” she confessed, trying to laugh and failing. “It has been a long two months. And I have been so happy. I swear to you I have. But I was thinking of the twins, and Amelia, and you, and mama, and all the sudden you were here.” Her throat closed up again and she shook her head, unable to say another word until the emotion passed.

Neil held her hand, requiring nothing of her, and began to speak. “Your mother misses you terribly, and I think she has read every letter you sent at least a dozen times. She carried the most recent one with her in a pocket or apron. She tells everyone how proud she is of you and of your hard work. Sometimes, she walks to the sea cliffs all on her own to read your letters when they first arrive. We are both so proud of you.”

She sniffled and grinned at him. “Thank you.”

“Alfie and Victor have grown at least two inches, but their French is still terrible.” That made her laugh, and he smiled as he kept talking. “They have convinced your mother to let them adopt a duck they found with a wounded wing. They have even had the creature sleep in a box in their room at nights. They named it Gingersnap. Amelia is convinced that if you are an artist, she must be a musician. She has doubled her efforts on the pianoforte and asked if she may learn the flute next. Your grandmother is well. And I am here because there is some scoundrel named Everly trying to court you, and I need to have a good look at him, even if your mother and I trust your judgement on such things. It will reassure me, if nothing else, that he knows you are a woman of worth.”

Worry dried up the last of her tears. She lowered the handkerchief and twisted it with both hands. “Papa. I wrote to you all about Edward. So did the earl and countess.”

“And I happen to remember the fellow from years ago, when he was a gangly youth getting stuck in trees.”

A watery giggle escaped her. “I have heard that story.”

“It wasn’t long after that his sisters caused me a broken arm,” he added with a wry twist to his smile. “Yes. I am well acquainted with the Everly family. But that doesn’t mean I am ready for one of them to court my little girl. Especially given all the cautionary words you wrote.” His eyes narrowed. “Your letters about him sound as though you both want us to approve and dread the moment he will break your heart.”

“I wanted to spare you from potential disappointment. In case things between Edward and I do not end as you may hope.” As she spoke, she laced the handkerchief through her fingers, tugging it and twining it until she inadvertently put a knot through it.

Papa leaned back against the arm of the couch and fixed her with a look she had seen before, the one he reserved for fatherly lectures or difficult truths. One of his eyebrows lifted, rather imperiously. “All we hope for is your happiness. The way you seem to anticipate this courtship leading nowhere has concerned me that you aren’t happy at all. Or you anticipate having your heart broken.”

“My heart is safe enough,” she murmured, looking down at the knot and wondering if she ought to tug it loose again.

“Is it, Cara?” He covered her hands with one of his, bringing her gaze up again. He stared into her eyes, a weight in his gaze that pressed on her already overburdened mind and heart. “We have always told you that you needn’t marry unless you wished, and that you ought to marry where there is love and respect. Courtship is a path to marriage. I thought you didn’t wish to find a husband yet?”

“I didn’t think I did,” she said. “I’m so young, Papa. And there is still so much I want to see and do.”

“Would Edward Everly support your dreams or would he prevent you from achieving them?” he asked, all teasing gone. This was the question that mattered most to him, it would seem. And he had come to it rather pointedly.

She took in a shuddering breath. “I do not know,” she said at last. “Because he is a man who puts everyone else’s expectations before his own. The things that he wants most, he will not do. He doesn’t want to risk upsetting his parents by going against their wishes and hopes for him.”

“I have heard that can be difficult. Though I never cared a fig for what my parents wanted me to do.” He sat back again and crossed his arms, turning his stare to the hearth. “But not everyone can run off and marry a beautiful heiress with a cherry orchard.”

That brought a smile to Caroline’s face. She ran her fingertip over the little green frog in one corner, its long legs stretched as it hopped upward. “Why do you still have this? It must have been five years since I gave you this one.”

“I’ve never used it, so it is as good as new.”

“What?” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Papa, handkerchiefs are meant to be used.”

“I carry it about from time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But the linen is too fine to mop my brow while I am in the fields or orchards. Besides. I like the reminder of you.” He took it gently from her. “But see here, that doesn’t mean you can go about tying it up in knots.” His large fingers pried the cloth loose before he folded it carefully and returned it to his pocket. “No more tears, Cara. Show me what you have busied yourself with this summer. I am under strict orders from your mama to tell her everything. I may need to take notes.”

She rose and held her hand out to him. “We have plenty of paper, if you need it.”

He took her hand and followed her through the house while she told him of her summer. The parties, picnics, painting, and days spent on the beach. He listened, occasionally interjecting when he recognized the name of a family.

Before they entered to conservatory, Caroline asked, “Did Lady Inglewood know you were coming?”

“Indeed. I asked her to keep it a secret.” He grinned at her. “She was happy to oblige.”

They stepped inside, and Caroline took him to the canvases that were hers. Fields of flowers, a boat incongruently in the middle of a clearing of trees, and the earl’s yacht with it’s white sails against the blue backdrop of sky and sea.

“But this is the most important piece,” she said, moving to the last canvas. The largest. Covered with a sheet to protect it from dust and prying eyes both. She hesitated a moment, hand gripped to pull the protective covering away. Caroline looked at Neil. “You cannot be upset. I am given to believe some fathers would rather their daughters never paint a man they are not related to.”