A Timeless Romance Anthology: Love Letter Collection

by Karey White

  “Do you want to try?” Lucy asked, holding out the pencil.

  Gwen took the pencil and started to shade.

  “Don’t press too hard,” Lucy said. “You can always go over it more than once to make it darker.”

  Gwen adjusted her pressure and continued shading. A moment later, she beamed at Lucy. “I can’t see the dirt anymore.”

  “When you get home, hold the paper over a steaming kettle for a few seconds,” Lucy said, glancing at Calvin to make sure he was listening in so he could help his niece. “Then place another piece of paper over the drawing and a stack of books on top of that. In the morning, your paper will be flat again.”

  Gwen wrapped her arms around Lucy. “You’re the best artist in the world.”

  Lucy laughed and squeezed her back. “We artists need to stick together.” She looked again at Calvin, who seemed amused.

  Sylvia crossed the room and inspected the reformed drawing. “Thank you ever so much, Miss Quinn.”

  Lucy rose to her feet. “It’s my pleasure. I’ll be here for two weeks, and I’m available anytime to help her.”

  “Oh, please!” Gwen said, jumping up. “Can I come over tomorrow so you can show me how to draw a house?”

  “A house?” Lucy said. “Why yes. I can certainly show you that.”

  Sylvia took her daughter’s hand. “I think Miss Quinn has plenty to do. She’s only here a short time.”

  Lucy did have a lot to do. She had barely started exploring the grounds and had a lot of sketching ahead of her. She hadn’t even gone over her mother’s inventory list. But she said, “I’d be happy to teach you how to draw a house tomorrow.” Lucy could hardly believe that she was making the offer. But if it was a chance to see Calvin again…

  Gwen tugged on her mother’s hand. “She said it’s all right.”

  Sylvia smiled and looked at Lucy, then Mrs. Quinn. “Are you sure?”

  “We’re happy to have her over,” Mrs. Quinn confirmed.

  “Come after breakfast,” Lucy said. “The light in the morning is divine— as long as it’s not raining.”

  “I’ll pray for no rain,” Gwen blurted out.

  Mrs. Quinn and Sylvia laughed.

  “All right, dear,” Sylvia said to Gwen. “We’ll come tomorrow and learn how to draw a house.”

  Lucy noticed the exchange of smiles between Calvin and his sister. The color of Calvin’s eyes were like his sister’s and his niece’s. Apparently, lake blue ran in the family.

  When Calvin’s gaze landed on her, Lucy’s cheeks were already pink, if not scarlet. “Thank you, Lucy,” he said. “You’re a remarkable person.”

  Remarkable? Showing a seven-year-old child how to color was simple. But Calvin seemed sincere. Before leaving, he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips then pressed a soft kiss on her hand. The warmth of his touch traveled all the way to her stomach, tumbling her insides.

  After they left, her mother started to say, “Well, that was unexpected…” then fell silent.

  The two women stood by the window and watched Calvin, Sylvia, and Gwen walk across the property. Lucy felt a hollow ache in her chest as she watched them. Gwen was between the two adults, a hand snugly in each of theirs. It made Lucy feel alone in the world, even though her mother stood near her, and Robert was waiting for her in New York.

  Her mother walked back to the desk and took up reading through the ledger, leaving Lucy to her thoughts.

  Calvin had disappeared through the line of trees at the border, and then he reappeared as he drew closer to the house. Lucy wondered what it would be like to walk about the estate hand in hand with Calvin. She immediately dismissed the idea. She should be thinking of Robert, not Calvin.

  Yet, her stomach had never tumbled when Robert had kissed her like it had with simply talking with Calvin. And he had only kissed her hand. Kissing Robert was nice, but it wasn’t the stuff of fables. She already knew he’d insist on separate bedrooms like his parents had.

  There was nothing wrong with that, of course. Robert would make a fine husband, and she’d be at his side as he achieved success in New York City. Her mother would be proud, and Lucy’s future would be secure.

  Then why do I want to hurry after Calvin and show him my nearly finished drawing of him? Why do I want to study the blue of his eyes so that I can get it perfect? And why can I still feel the touch of his lips on my hand?

  Chapter Ten

  “She’s engaged?” Sylvia asked, working on a bit of needlepoint while Calvin stood by the large front windows, looking over the vast lawn of his estate.

  “Almost engaged, she said,” Calvin replied. He’d felt gloomy since returning from Quinn Manor, and his ever-perceptive sister had finally dragged it out of him. Yes, he was interested in Lucy Quinn. More than interested. But she was American. She was leaving in less than two weeks. And she was almost engaged.

  “Is she in love with the man?” Sylvia asked.

  Calvin nearly choked. “I can’t exactly ask her that.”

  Sylvia was quiet for a moment. “Well, I wonder, all the same.”

  I do too. Yet, two issues still divided them even without the fiancé, and he hadn’t considered the biggest of all. Could she ever be interested in him?

  “This is ridiculous; I don’t even know her,” Calvin grumbled. He stalked away from the windows and sank into an oversized chair. The fire had been lit at Sylvia’s insistence, and now he studied the flames as if they somehow had the answer.

  Sylvia chuckled.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Calvin said. “Watching your little brother be miserable. It must be the best day of your life.”

  Sylvia kept smiling.

  Calvin folded his arms and exhaled. Had he been imagining it, or had there been some attraction on Lucy’s part? They had seemed to get along so well. She’d been direct, not shy at all, yet she’d also been forthright about Robert. Could he ask her about her feelings for the man she was soon to be affianced to? No. It wasn’t his place or his business. And what did he hope to accomplish? The odds were entirely against him.

  He closed his eyes, remembering how Lucy’s head had bent forward while helping Gwen. Tendrils of Lucy’s honey-colored hair had escaped, framing her face. Her brown eyes had sparkled every time she looked at him, as if they’d shared some great amusement. Did Lucy know that her fair skin and honey-brown hair were the perfect combination of hues?

  “I think she likes you,” Sylvia said, startling Calvin.

  The suggestion shot a wave of anticipation through him. “How can you say that?”

  “Every time she looked at you, she blushed.” Sylvia set down her needlepoint. “Women notice these things.”

  Calvin furrowed his brows, trying to remember. Could it be true? And if it was, would Lucy consider someone like him? She’d have to change her whole life. Then he remembered her words: I feel like I’ve walked into a storybook.

  A spark of hope ignited in his chest.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucy sketched Calvin’s house from her bedroom window. She could see only a portion of Devans Estate from here, but it was an interesting angle. Most of the house was still in shadow, not yet captured by the rising sun, but that made it look all the more exquisite.

  She thought of Calvin, possibly still inside at this early hour. Was he eating breakfast? Reading by the fire? Going over ledgers? His lake-blue eyes were never far from her mind, and she supposed they would be until she got the shade right in her sketchbook.

  She looked forward to seeing Calvin again… and as she watched the house and sketched, she tried to justify her anticipation. Calvin was a good-looking man. An interesting man. That was all. He might be available, but not to her. And just because he was interested in her art and happened to be the perfect gentleman, didn’t mean she had needed to toss and turn the previous night, going over every word he’d said.

  Someone came out of the Devans house. Lucy straightened. It was a man holding a little girl�
�s hand. Calvin was bringing Gwen over. Lucy hurried to the wardrobe and opened the doors. What she was wearing would not do after all. She pulled out two dresses fuller at the top and pinched in the waist and held them side by side. She chose the pale yellow with the scooped neck and no train, because the color brought out the gold tones in her hair, and perhaps made her eyes less of a plain brown.

  By the time Mrs. Yates escorted Calvin and Gwen into the sitting room, Lucy’s hands were clammy, and her heart raced. She should have asked her mother to join them… having her there seemed safer somehow. Safer than letting herself stare at her male guest.

  Gwen hurried toward her, still wearing her hat with a huge bow, holding up a sketchbook. “Look what Uncle Calvin gave me.”

  His face pinked, which Lucy found charming.

  “It was my sketchbook as a child,” he explained. “Very little used.”

  Lucy smiled as she leafed through the pages. The drawings were childish, similar to what Gwen had brought over the day before.

  “As you can see, my family can do with your expertise,” Calvin said.

  “I love them all.” Her heart thumped as his eyes seemed to see into her soul. She quickly turned to Gwen. “Ready to start? I think we should begin with this house, since it’s a bit smaller than your uncle’s.”

  “Can I use your colored pencils?” Gwen asked.

  “Yes. Once you have the house sketched, you can color it in.” She dared another glance at Calvin.

  Soon, the three of them were outside, sitting on chairs Calvin had carried from the house. Clouds threatened rain, and the softness of the early morning had faded, but the darker sky gave Lucy a chance to instruct Gwen about color and shading. She hoped that it wouldn’t be too daunting for the budding artist.

  They spent the next hour sketching, shading, then coloring. Calvin even joined with advice of his own. When Gwen was happy with her first picture of a house, they walked to Quinn Manor.

  “Did you ever finish my sketch?” Calvin asked on the way.

  “I did… almost,” Lucy said.

  His eyebrows lifted, and he stopped walking. “Almost?”

  Lucy stopped as well. “Everything is finished but the color of your eyes.” And then she was blushing again, because those eyes were looking back at her. “I mean, they’re an unusual color, and I’ve blended a couple of hues, but I don’t think I’ve got it quite right.”

  Calvin’s smile broadened. “Can I see it?”

  Lucy glanced at Gwen, who had found the cat that frequented the porch. “Maybe later.”

  “Do you want to meet at Blackberry Hollow?” he asked. “Later?” His low voice seemed to touch her skin, and she suddenly felt hot.

  “All right.” She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to something which felt like a secret meeting, even though Gwen had heard every word, whether or not she’d paid attention or cared.

  “Sunset?” he said.

  With his gaze on her, Lucy could only say, “Yes.”

  Chapter Twelve

  One Week Later

  “Trust me,” Sylvia said as she leaned over a blueprint of the Devans Estate on which she was marking her renovation ideas. “Be yourself, and she won’t be able to resist.”

  Calvin narrowed his eyes. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

  Sylvia looked up from the blueprint. “Maybe. But I’m telling you, let her know how you feel now, or it will be too late.”

  Three days. Lucy would leave for London in three days, and then she’d be on a ship back to America. They’d spent the last week together, caught up in one activity after another. When they’d met at Blackberry Hollow at sunset the week before, he’d nearly kissed her after seeing the drawing she’d done of him. He couldn’t prove it, but he believed she couldn’t have done such a fine drawing without caring for the subject just a little.

  And he had grown to care for her too. Calvin had even helped her with the tedious task of making inventory lists. When her mother had grown tired of the dust, they’d gone through the entire attic of Quinn Manor. They’d walked the property several times.

  He’d been at the meeting with the auction house director. He’d listened to Lucy’s doubts about selling the place, and how she was considering waiting a year. She’d told him more about Robert, such as how he didn’t want children for a while. Calvin had noted sadness in her eyes when she spoke about that. He’d read some of the articles Robert had asked her to read. She’d sat in his library while he drafted letters to his clients. And nearly every day, Lucy gave Gwen some sort of drawing lesson. The little girl was positively attached to Lucy.

  And so was he. He’d spent hours watching her draw. When she was satisfied with finding the right combination of hues for his eyes, she’d given him the drawing to keep. She didn’t know that it was on the table by his bed, and that he’d probably never move it.

  “I don’t know how to be myself around her,” Calvin told his sister, mostly speaking to himself. “Because I don’t even know what I’m doing or saying half of the time.”

  Sylvia smiled. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  Calvin shook his head. Sylvia was no help— well, she was actually a tremendous help, giving him courage when he probably would have given up by now. Sylvia had interpreted Lucy for him; it was nice to have a female confidante when navigating a man-woman relationship.

  “You need to kiss her tonight,” Sylvia declared.

  Calvin snapped his head up. “What?”

  “She must have time to think about what your kiss means,” Sylvia continued in a calm voice, as if her suggestion hadn’t nearly stopped his heart.

  “What if she doesn’t want—”

  “Kiss her, and you’ll find out,” Sylvia interrupted. She put her hands on her hips, her expression far from smiling. “Tell her how you feel. She’ll have time to think about it as she gazes over Devans Estate for her last few days.” Now her smile was back. Cunning.

  Calvin laughed, even though his stomach was a knot of nerves. “I don’t know if that’s the best advice.”

  “When have I ever given you bad advice?” Sylvia demanded.

  Calvin thought for a moment, then conceded his sister always gave good advice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Three days left, Lucy thought as she dressed for supper, having a hard time believing that she had only so little time before saying good-bye to Quinn Manor forever. Good-bye to Mrs. Yates. To Gwen, Sylvia, and… Calvin.

  Tonight the Devans were coming for supper. No doubt Sylvia would discuss her latest renovation idea, and Calvin would listen patiently. Then he’d ask Lucy about what she’d been sketching that day, even though he very well knew, since he’d been there while she was drawing. Later they’d play games until Gwen started yawning. They’d had plenty of comfortable evenings like this over the past week. Lucy would miss them.

  Her mother was already asking questions… What would Robert think of Lucy sitting so close to Calvin? About her laughing with him so? Taking walks, just the two of them? Spending nearly every moment in his company?

  Lucy heard the commotion downstairs of Mrs. Yates welcoming the Devans into the house, and her mother’s voice carried up the stairs as she greeted them. Lucy turned to the mirror and pinned her hair into place. Her heart thumped when she thought of sitting across from Calvin at the dining table, of the way his gaze always seemed to find her no matter the situation.

  Ready at last, she left her room and walked downstairs. She found everyone in the sitting room.

  “There you are,” her mother said, rising. “We were about to go in and eat.”

  Small arms wrapped around Lucy’s waist, and she looked down to see Gwen. “Hello, sweetie,” Lucy said.

  Sylvia smiled her greeting, and when Gwen let go, she followed her mother and Mrs. Quinn into the hall. Calvin held back. He was unusually quiet, and Lucy looked at him questioningly. He took her hand, and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss on her skin.

  His expressio
n was serious, as if, he too, knew they were losing time to be together. Fast.

  Sadness flooded through Lucy, surprising her at its intensity. She linked her arm through Calvin’s, and they walked to the dining room.

  The conversation at supper was mostly between Sylvia and Mrs. Quinn. Lucy chimed in few times, but Calvin remained quiet. She caught his eyes on her more than once, and her pulse quickened each time.

  When supper was over, they moved to the sitting room, where there was a cheery fire. Gwen immediately begged to play draughts, and soon Mrs. Quinn and Gwen were playing in earnest. Sylvia had brought a sampler to work on and sat close to the game so she could offer Gwen advice from time to time.

  Lucy’s eyes followed Calvin as he walked to the hearth and leaned against it, his hands shoved in his pockets. She went to join him, and when he looked up, their gazes locked.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “You’ve been quiet all evening.”

  “You’re leaving soon.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice falling to a whisper. Her face heated under Calvin’s intense stare. Would she ever get used to him watching her that way?

  “I’m not looking forward to it,” he said.

  She gave a small sigh; her stomach had tightened. She didn’t know if she was ready for this— this talk of saying good-bye. “Would you like to walk through the gardens?” It was an impulsive suggestion. It was nearly dark, and the clouds had been ominous all day.

  He gave a brief nod and straightened from the hearth. He told Sylvia where they were going, and she murmured something back.

  Gwen and Mrs. Quinn were too absorbed in their game to notice much else. Once outside, Calvin offered his arm. Lucy took it— the second time that evening— and they walked slowly through the garden of roses. Most of the plants were fading with the cooling weather, and Lucy had a sudden desire to see what the gardens would look like in the spring.