He closed his eyes. The crackle of the fire, the sweep of the brush across paper. Miss Angleton’s energetic playing. It reminded him of… home. The door opened and a maid bustled in. She set a tray before him, and he thanked her, not only forthe repast but for giving him something to focus on other than Amelia.
“Would you like to see?” Amelia asked, her voice rising above the pianoforte din.
Immediately the music stopped, giving way to Miss Angleton’s squeal. And then her gasp. “You’ve made me look quite regal.”
“You have a queenly profile.”
If only the chit would act queenly.
“You are talented, Mrs. Dart. No wonder Lord Andrew will not share you. Oh. What are these?”
“Lord Andrew made them.” Amelia’s voice took on a lower tone, unreadable. He kept his gaze cast down at the cheese and bread. “For us to wear while we practice archery,” Amelia finished.
Silence. Too much silence for much too long.
Drew looked up from his plate.
To find both women looking at him with unblinking gazes. Miss Angleton’s head tilted to the side, and she studied him as if he were a bug she’d never seen before. Amelia’s cheeks were red, as if the fire had hopped into her skin. Would they be warmer than her neck had been?
“Yes?” he inquired.
“Thank you,” Amelia said. “It was quite thoughtful of you.”
He waved away her gratitude.
Miss Angleton whistled. “I must write Miss Gertrude now and let her know. I’m changing my bet.” She resumed her place behind the pianoforte and played once more, softly this time.
Had the fire hopped into Drew’s cheeks? Did he have a fever? He washed a bite of bread down with some wine the maid had poured for him before leaving. “Where did you learn to do silhouettes, Mrs. Dart?” he asked. She wantedAmelia, but in front of their employees, he should be more formal.
She didn’t seem to mind. She turned back to her work with a slight smile and a gaze that had traveled a distance into the past. “My grandfather taught me. He was not good at all. My grandmother, apparently, enjoyed the art and had a talent for it. I take after her. He used to say that at least.”
“I am no judge of art. In fact, I refuse to be. But that is very like your subject. You must have some talent.”
“Talent is not necessary. I merely copy, trace. Though I have experimented.”
“How so?”
She laid her paintbrush down and sat in the chair next closest to his. Both chairs leaned against the wall, and a small table, piled with Drew’s dinner, sat like an island between them. “I remember looking at a silhouette I had made once. All black, as is expected, and it left me unsatisfied. There was more mystery there than enlightenment. I’d drawn only the merest outline of that person’s self with no hint of who they are on the inside. I began to try to draw other images on the insides of the silhouettes. Instead of pouring all black into my grandfather’s profile, I’d drawn roads and traveling inns and houses. Because he was never at home. Do you see what I mean?”
He nodded. “What would you put in Miss Angleton’s head?”
She laughed. “I hardly know. A bow and arrow for certain. Beyond that… I do not know her well enough to guess the contents of her brain.”
He wanted to ask,And what of me?but he swallowed that question down with a gulp of wine. He did not need to know what she thought lurked about in his head. He didn’t want her to know. At the current moment, he was rather fixated on one point—a woman with pink cheeks and corkscrew curls. What would she do if she found out? Run from him? All the way to London… and to Tidsdale?
Hell.
“Shall I repeat my invitation?” she said. “Will you sit for me and let me take your silhouette?”
“No. But thank you.”
“You are stubborn.”
“A trait that has led me to much success.” He picked up a chunk of bread, brought it to his lips, then dropped it to the plate. “I upset you earlier today. After archery.” She startled, squeezed a hunk of bread too tightly between tense fingers. “I apologize. Though I’m not quite sure why I upset you. Perhaps for calling you a fool.”
“There was that,” she grumbled, “but there was more, too.”
“Tell me.” He didn’t want to know. He needed to know.
