Helen’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Thank you! I must admit, I’m rather proud of it.”
“As you should be,” Mrs. Hollingsworth chimed in. “Your drawings are excellent. I could see them in a gallery one day.”
“Oh, Mrs. Hollingsworth,” Helen said, her voice light with laughter. “You needn’t flatter me so.”
“It is not flattery if it is true,” Emma piped up with a smile. “You are very talented, indeed.”
Arabella nodded in agreement, still marveling at the drawing.
Helen was exceptionally talented, but why would Harry hide her from Arabella? He clearly loved Helen deeply; he visited her often and shared so much about his wife with her. It made no sense that he would conceal her existence.
Helen interrupted Arabella’s thoughts. “Shall I draw something for you now? You can watch me work.”
Arabella smiled. “Yes, I would love that.”
“But not for too long,” Mrs. Hollingsworth cautioned gently. “We must be back inside by eleven, you know that.”
Arabella frowned slightly. Why such a strict schedule? Helen didn’t seem to have any social engagements, and it wasn’t as though she lived in the heart of London. So why was her time so tightly managed?
She pushed her questions aside, determined to enjoy the morning with Helen and Emma. The answers would come in time—perhaps when she confronted Harry about everything she had learned today. For now, she would savor the simple joy of watching Helen’s talented hand bring life to the page.
Arabella sat beside Helen on the bench, Mrs. Hollingsworth on one side and Emma on the other, and watched as the young girl began to sketch a pair of swans gliding gracefully across thewater. Each stroke of the pencil was deliberate, filled with a quiet intensity that spoke of Helen’s passion for her art.
As Arabella watched, her heart softened. Here, in the quiet of the garden, surrounded by the gentle sounds of nature and the company of these three women, she felt a sense of peace.
Whatever mysteries lay ahead, whatever secrets she had yet to uncover, she knew she would face them with courage and determination.
CHAPTER 31
“Arabella?” Harry shouted as he strode into the house, his voice echoing through the halls.
Where in the world is she?
“Mrs. Blomquist?” he called.
The housekeeper hurried out of the drawing room to greet him.
“Your Grace, you are back. Is something the matter? I thought I heard shouting,” she replied, her tone concerned.
“I am looking for my wife. Have you any idea where she might be?”
“No, Your Grace. She left quite early this morning with her sister, Lady Emma. I believe they ventured into town.”
“Into town?” Harry repeated, bewildered.
Why would Arabella go into town so early, especially after the late night they had? He ran a hand through his hair, sighing with frustration.
“Very well, Mrs. Blomquist. Please notify me the moment she returns. There is a matter of grave importance I must discuss with her,” he added.
Before the housekeeper could respond, he turned on his heel and marched toward his study.
As he entered, he rang the bell for Brandon, then collapsed into his chair, rubbing his temples. To say he was exasperated would be a grave understatement. Arabella was proving to be as elusive as she was infuriating. He still could not fathom why she had behaved so coldly toward him the previous evening. Sleep had evaded him entirely, his thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and frustration.
“Your Grace? You rang?” Brandon inquired, entering the study with a measured step.
Harry looked up, momentarily disoriented. How long had he been lost in his thoughts?
“Yes, Brandon, I did,” he began, then paused, trying to recall the reason for summoning his valet. Why had he called for Brandon?
