He did so, and they fell into a little silence as he prepared. He pulled the chair out for her, then he motioned to it, pulling off his coat in the process and then throwing it over the back of a different chair. Emily's mouth went dry as he began to roll up his shirt sleeves.
“Please sit down,” he said.
She hadn't exactly heard him, but she could read his lips. She sat down, feeling breathless and hazy, hoping that the blush she felt stealing over her cheeks wasn't that obvious.
He went to sit behind the easel when she looked out the window. He was silent, until he appeared before her, looking down at her kindly.
“Emily?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
“Oh,” she turned to him, her face reddening even more. She put a hand to her mouth. “Were you speaking?”
“Yes, trying to get your attention.” To her surprise, he got down on his knees, His hands holding the edges of the armchair on either side of her.
“Forgive me.” She licked her lips and looked into his eyes. Thomas was the kindest, loveliest person she had ever known. Of all the people she would understand. “There's something I must tell you, Thomas.” She brushed her finger over her left ear. “I cannot hear very well at all out of this ear. In fact, I’m quite deaf in this ear.” With her heart racing, she looked down again, but it was Thomas who lifted her chin back up his finger.
“I had a feeling, but I never wished to ask. Why did you never tell me, Emily?” he asked softly.
“Everyone thinks I'm so haughty because I cannot hear, and so I do not always answer them when they ask questions. It is an embarrassment and a handicap. It is—” Her breath caught when she felt Thomas's rough hand on her cheek.
He had leaned a little closer, and she blinked in surprise. Could this be--?
“You are not your condition. You are wonderful in every way. I might have known that there was something, but it never detracted from who you are in any way to me.” She still couldn't breathe when she saw his eyes move to her mouth. “Would I be able to kiss you?” he asked.
Her stomach filling with butterflies, Emily nodded. “Yes,” she said quietly.
His lips touched hers. It was soft and gentle. It was everything she had hoped it would be. And when he deepened the kiss ever so slightly, she moved her hands to his strong shoulders to feel his strength under her fingertips.
“So lovely,” he said when he pulled away, smiling up at her.
“Thomas, I—”
“I have been wanting to do that for a long while.”
“And I have been wanting you to,” she said back boldly, and he chuckled.
“Good. Then it will happen again if you don’t mind. But for now, we paint. And I will move the easel so you can see me speak to you.”
“Thank you.”
Her heart full, she watched as Thomas went to the easel. Perhaps her Season would be a wonderful success after all.
Chapter 28
Nathaniel returned home to find his family in the sitting room with Thomas painting.
“How is it going?” he asked, heading to the easel when Thomas held up a hand.
“You cannot look yet! The rule of a painter,” Thomas said, and Nathaniel sighed and sank into a chair next to his mother.
While Thomas chatted to Emily, his mother leaned towards him and whispered, “How was it?”
“Good,” he said, pulling a newspaper into his lap so that he didn’t have to look at his mother when he thought of what had happened at the lecture.
“So, you will ask her to marry you?”
He threw his mother a sharp look. “Mother, it is still too early.”
He continued to pretend to read while her mother sighed. “I know, but you seem to enjoy each other very well. And your father’s not doing well.”
