The thought of being open and honest about his feelings with Lady Verity was even scarier. But if he did nothing, then his life would be decided for him, and that concept was even worse.
Thomas raised his glass in a toast. “To second chances,” he said, and Philip clinked his glass against his friend’s.
The warmth of the brandy spread through him, fortifying his resolve.
Frightening as it was, he was going to have to try.
CHAPTER 15
Verity always loved the art exhibitions at Somerset House.She very much enjoyed examining and exploring the work of others, and even imagining her own paintings hanging up on the walls someday. That might not be a very likely dream, but that did not stop her from playing the little fantasy in her head regardless.
Only she could not fully enjoy herself at this exhibition, because of her company. Her brother had arranged for her to spend the day with Ambrose and his daughters, who were making the whole experience very unpleasant.
“This is not nice to look at,” Ambrose scoffed as he dismissed yet another beautiful art piece. “The color choice is absolutely dreadful. I cannot believe that anyone would even look at such a thing.”
“It’s more about the emotion than the coloring…” Verity attempted, but he seemed to not hear her. Either that or he had chosen to ignore her.
“And this. It’s so simplistic, anyone could do it.”
Verity felt a little sick at this remark. How could this man fail to appreciate the skill and emotion poured into each brush stroke? She could not expect him to have all the same interests as her, but it still hurt to have something she adored so much, something that was so important to her, dismissed in such a manner. Especially because he knew that this was what she loved. It almost seemed like he was trying to be cruel to her.
But why?
What would be the point of that?
A coldness trickled down her spine as Ambrose moved on to the next painting, without giving any of them the proper timeand care that they so desperately needed and deserved as well. These paintings were created to be studied and admired, not treated as if they were absolutely nothing.
“Now this one, I like.” Ambrose rested his hands on his hips while he stood in front of a painting of a ship. “This one I can appreciate. A man has worked hard on this.”
A man.
As if a painting could only be appreciated if it was created by a man,
Verity was distracted by the sound of Amelia and Cordelia giggling behind her back. They were not exactly being discrete about laughing at her, which only made this whole thing even more unpleasant.
She was clearly wearing the wrong thing according to them, or she had said something that they deemed ridiculous, or perhaps it was her mere presence that was the issue. Either way, discomfort flowed through Verity’s veins. She could not wait for all of this to be over.
As she caught sight of Louisa, it seemed like her ladies maid wasn’t enjoying this very much either. She did not look impressed on Verity’s behalf.
“Oh, I see Lord Pembrokeshire,” Ambrose suddenly announced. “He is an old business acquaintance of mine. I must go and speak with him. Please, excuse me.”
If only he were leaving her alone for a moment of respite, rather than with his daughters who had distain written all over their faces.
“Oh, I am just going to see that painting over there. I have… been wanting to see it for a very long time…”
She needed to get away from Amelia and Cordelia. She needed a moment to breathe, so without hesitation, Verity slipped away from them to immerse herself in the artwork. She found much more solace in the beauty and emotion captured oneach canvas than she ever could with the people she had come here with.
If only she could have a companion who understood art, or who at the very least was interested in it. Then she might be able to enjoy herself more.
It was hard to have so many exciting opinions about everything, and no one to share it with.
Oh my…
Verity found herself standing in front of a particularly striking landscape, one that truly got her heart racing. There was something deep about this, and she needed to immerse herself in that for a moment. The landscape was almost on the brink of a storm. That wasn’t shown, but Verity could sense it coming. This was the calm moment before the storm was unleashed.
Beautiful, Verity thought to herself as she mentally allowed the scene to surround her.
This was what she loved about landscapes; she could imagine herself within them. Portraits simply did not offer the same freedom for the viewer. Verity felt the meadow grass beneath her feet and if she inhaled deeply enough, it was almost as if she could smell the flowers. But it wasn’t just the landscape on the brink of a storm, Verity felt like the painter was as well. There was something going on in the artists life that made it on to the canvas, whether they wanted it to or not.
