Page 71 of Romancing the Artist

Caroline let his words flow over her, listening and struggling to understand. “You aren’t like them at all. Your father must see that. You are honorable and kind, certainly responsible. If you would talk to him, tell him—”

“I cannot, Caroline. I will not.” He shook his head slowly and took one of her hands, then started walking again toward the stairs. “And we needn’t discuss it.”

“We do,” she insisted, pulling her hand from his grasp. Fear caught her around the heart. Papa had been right. She needed to tell Edward how she felt. She had to take the risk. If she didn’t, he might not think her worth taking a risk of his own. Edward deserved so much more than what his father wanted for him. “Edward.” She put her hand to his cheek and his eyes widened, one hand came up to cover hers. “I cannot watch someone I care about so deeply lose what they most desire.”

“Caroline, I—”

She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was gentle. Over in an instant. Not at all like what they shared in the attic, and yet it marked a moment she would never forget. “If you will not fight for yourself, how will you fight for me?” She stepped back, her heart racing. “I love you, Edward. Please. Don’t ask me to give up my dreams and yours.”

Turning away and racing down the corridor to disappear into another room, out of his sight and before he could say a word, would be cowardly. Though perhaps wiser than standing there in a dimly lit corridor waiting for him to respond. She had laid her heart at his feet. Her future, too.

“I am tired of pretending,” she whispered when he said nothing, staring at her as though he didn’t believe his eyes or his ears. “Aren’t you?”

Edward gathered her in his arms, still staring at her with that somewhat dazed expression. “I haven’t been pretending for a long time now. Since before the attic.”

Relief encircled her heart and flowed through her, and for one glorious moment everything took on a softer aspect, a glow that she wished she knew how to add to canvas, the better to save that instant of happiness for the rest of her life. She tipped her chin up, smiling, ready for another kiss and hoping for many to follow.

But Edward wasn’t smiling. Even though he was there, holding her, he didn’t seem happy. Why? What had she done wrong?

“Cara.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “You deserve so much more than I can give you. You need to see Paris and Rome, Florence, Amsterdam, Vienna. I want to be the one to take you. To promise you everything. And I can’t.” His voice broke on the last word.

She stepped out of his arms, her heart threatening to crack. Caroline took in a deep breath. She needn’t make demands of him. That wasn’t love. Her papa and her mama showed her, every day since their union, what love was.

“Think it through, Edward,” she said at last, holding herself together and forcing her lips to turn upward in a smile.

“I thought I could make this real,” he said, voice soft. “But the way your father spoke of your hopes today as things already bright in your future, things you have spent your whole life preparing for, changes everything. Your dreams are part of you, Cara. I cannot give you those things.”

“Of course not,” she answered, wrapping her arms around herself. How could she make him understand? “My dreams hang upon my talent and my willingness to work for them. I only want one thing from you, Edward.”

He stared at her, his deep blue eyes full of sorrow. “If it is in my power, it is yours, Caroline.”

“You, Edward. Just yourself. And we will make everything else work as best we can.” She stepped away. They could get nowhere else tonight. Her emotions were too taught, her heart disappointed. She had been brave and declared herself. And he hadn’t been able to do the same. Not really.

Some risks were not immediately rewarded.

Summer wasn’t over yet.

They were at the top of the staircase.

“Good night, Edward.” She took a step back. “I will see you tomorrow. At our usual time.” He didn’t move, so she gave him one last smile before stepping around him to retrace her steps to the sitting room. She looked back only once, before she opened the door, and he was already gone.

Chapter 23

Sleep evaded Edward.

“Aren’t you tired of pretending?”

Caroline’s voice echoed through his mind and haunted every heartbeat. Yes. He was exhausted. Not of her, not of pretending at their relationship. Tired of pretending the life his father had chosen for him was what he wanted. Yes, as the only son of an entailed estate, he would have to run it someday. He would have to live at the Refuge, tend to its business, see to the tenants, the farms, the orchards.

The time would come when his father would need Edward’s help. And on that day, Edward would face his responsibilities with the knowledge and training he’d received since childhood.

Until then, he’d planned to remain with his family. Develop a routine. Petition his father to make changes. Perhaps convince the stubborn man to give some of the daily responsibilities to Edward.

A dull, gray existence stretched before him. He loved Caroline. He’d thought that would be enough. That he could court her and convince her to love him, too. Then he would wed her and fill his home with paints, brushes, canvases, and all the things she needed to be content. He would do as the earl had for the countess. He would take her to London, to galleries and museums. And that would be enough.

“Don’t ask me to give up my dreams and yours.”

She’d known what he would ask. Perhaps she’d even be willing to sacrifice some of her own expectations and hopes, but she wouldn’t give up on both of them. It made him love her all the more.