As he came out of the woods, he decided to look into the art studio. He had not been there since Jacob’s visit, and he was curious to see how things had progressed.
His last encounter with Jacob had been on his mind a lot over these past few days. After his anger had cooled, he had tentatively begun to consider his friend’s words. He’d wanted to sound them out, to test them in his mind and heart. There had been hard truths to accept. Maybe he wasn’t ready to believe Olivia might never have married him; perhaps he didn’t need to. Perhaps he needed only to accept that it was time to move on.
Certainly, after last night he knew something had to change. This family could not continue on as they were. Henry had to find a solution. He’d realized that his old, lingering sorrows had been stealthily replaced by a very different sort of ache. He wanted to step away from the overtrodden pathways of thought that, painful as they were, had been too easy to follow again and again. It was, in short, a longing to begin anew.
Approaching the dower house, he was surprised to see someone already there. Through the window, he saw Cara seated at her easel, alone in the studio. Here was an opportunity to speak to her privately.
Catching sight of Henry, she waved. Something stirred within him—a heady sensation that heightened his senses. There had only ever been one other person who could make Henry feel this way.
He waited for his heart to protest, as it always had at the idea there could ever be anyone else. This time, though, his heart urged him forward.
Early morning sun bathed the studio in golden light. After last night’s dinner, Cara was grateful for the peacefulness of the place. She had withstood Lady Morestowe’s attacks, but she felt bruised from the experience.
Cara had already gotten in the habit of coming here in the mornings, when she could have time to herself to paint. Later, after Amelia had been dressed by the nursery maid and given her breakfast, Cara would bring her out here. It was better to let Langham have the studio to himself in the afternoons. That was when he seemed best able to work and least tolerant of having others around. Especially Amelia, who often proved too much of a distraction. It was a schedule that worked for everyone.
Today, however, she worried that Langham might not appear at all. Would the events of last night bring on more physical maladies? It was surely no coincidence that the day of Lady Morestowe’s arrival was the first time Langham’s drinking had been so obviously out of control since they’d left London. Her ladyship seemed to bring out the worst in everyone. Was there any way to change that? The thought was daunting. If Langham was so set in bad habits at the age of twenty-four, how much more would the countess be?
Maybe her ladyship had been correct in stating that Cara should stick to helping Amelia. Cara planned to be extra diligent, doing anything she could to shield the child from Lady Morestowe’s hurtful ways, which were likely to bring back Amelia’s tantrums. Cara had begun to dread the prospect of the countess being at the next riding lesson. What if, instead of drawing them closer, it spoiled Amelia’s love of riding?
She sat back and surveyed the work she’d done on her portrait of Amelia. Cara was rather proud of it. She hoped to capture Amelia’s vulnerability as well as her imperious nature. The child was both clever and sensitive, and Cara prayed the girl would find a way to flourish.
Looking out the window, Cara was pleased to see Henry crossing the lawn. She watched him appreciatively. She loved his long strides and the way he always moved with a confident air, even when his mind seemed focused on other things.
Catching his eye, she waved. He lifted a hand in return. She hastily tucked in a loose strand of hair and smoothed her skirt. Not that these things could improve her appearance very much, for she was plainly dressed. But he was used to seeing her this way by now.
A few moments later, he entered the cottage.
“Good morning,” Cara said cheerfully.
He paused just inside the door. “You’re here early.” He was looking at her intently, but she could not gauge his mood.
“It’s the only time I can find to myself. Not that I mind. I am thankful to have this opportunity at all.”
“I apologize for my mother’s behavior last night. Langham was out of order, too, yet I feel my mother’s ungracious attitude toward you was the greater wrong.”
Something about the way he was looking at her made her pulse quicken. “Thank you, that’s very kind. I did not take offense . . . but perhaps I am a little afraid of her after all.”
“You shouldn’t be. You have the bigger heart.”
Cara savored this compliment, and most especially the admiration in his eyes as he said it. It would make enduring any number of Lady Morestowe’s barbs worthwhile.
“What are you painting?”
“It’s a portrait of Amelia.”
Henry walked over to her, standing beside her to look at the picture. Cara delighted in the solid warmth of his presence. It felt just like when they’d shared the bench together in the garden. She had loved those few minutes together. Even though she’d quietly kept drawing, inside she had been alight with pleasure. Since then, she’d often relived in her mind that moment when they’d turned to one another, seemingly so close, before Henry had pulled away.
“I like it,” Henry said as he studied the painting. His mouth quirked. “She looks like she’s about to demand a cherry ice.”
“So she does,” Cara agreed with a laugh.
His mouth broadened into a true smile. He looked so handsome at these brief, unguarded moments. He sobered a little, though, as they continued to look at each other. “It’s clear to me how much you care for Amelia, and I’m grateful.”
“Believe it or not, she is easy to love, despite the times when she’s unruly. I suppose my heart went out to her right away, as she is an orphan.”
Something flickered in Henry’s eyes. “Yes, well . . . she does have family, though—Langham and my mother and me. Even if we are a poor substitute for actual parents.”
“You are doing an excellent job. Langham is more intermittent in his attention, but I think he loves her, too, in his way.”
“Yes, he does. That is, I hope so.”
She did not say anything about the countess. Nor did Henry. His brow furrowed. “Cara, there is something I need to ask of you. It’s a request only, and I hope you will be good enough to accept it in the spirit in which it is set forth.”
“I hope the question isn’t as complicated as what you just said, or I’ll have no idea how to answer,” she teased.
He tried to give her a smile. “You are correct. I don’t know quite how to say this. I’d like to give you some background first. You remember how important it is that I secure investors for the copper mine.”
“I remember.”
“This opportunity with Mr. Myers is one I cannot afford to lose—that is, for any other reason than that he finds the investment itself not to his interest.”
“For any other reason?” Cara repeated. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s vital that I make the right impression. Despite Langham’s remarks last night about Americans, they are in fact very conscious of propriety, and, well, there is no denying that your being here is somewhat unusual. . . .”
Cara’s heart sank. She saw where this was going. “Are you asking me to leave?”
“No!” Henry answered quickly. “I’m asking only if you will consider spending all your time with Amelia while they are here.”
“You want me to pretend to be the governess.” As far as Cara was concerned, this was worse.
“I am asking only. You are well within your rights to refuse. The only reason I dare to ask is because you have been so understanding and sympathetic about the tough situation our family is in right now. Because you are so kind, I am hoping that you will be amenable to this plan.” He gave her a look that was both pleading and apologetic. “It will only be for a few days, and I will be eternally grateful.”
Cara was certain this
was Lady Morestowe’s idea. For that reason alone, she wanted to object. But if she did, she would run slipshod over Henry’s feelings. He was asking this favor with true humility. It showed he held her in high regard. Surely that must be the guiding factor in her decision. Did she want to help Henry? Yes, she did. The way he was speaking to her now, and the way he was looking at her, gave her hope that the idea that had presented itself to her the day they’d met at Adrian’s studio was more than an idle fantasy. It would come true. This was but one step along the way, and even though it was unpleasant, it would pass.
“I am not amenable. But I agree to it wholeheartedly. For your sake, and for Amelia.”
His entire body seemed to exhale in relief. “Thank you.” They were simple words, but infused with real emotion. “You are beautiful.”
Her breath caught as she realized the deeper meaning of his compliment. It was not about physical things; it was about two souls understanding each other.
She smiled up at him, willing him with all her heart to take the next step. He searched her face, and she watched, fascinated, as something appeared in his expression that she had not seen before. It was as though he were slowly, cautiously allowing himself to feel the desire he’d kept buried deep within him. The moment was suspended deliciously in time, simmering with promise. At last, when the time was exactly right, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
For long delicious seconds, they both savored it. He reached up to caress her cheek, to place a gentle hand behind her head and pull her closer, to kiss her again, deeply and more fervently. She leaned into him, for like him, she could not get enough. It was as perfect as Cara had dreamed a first kiss would be.
But then she felt his lips widen in a smile. She opened her eyes to see that his gaze had slid to his left, where she had been holding her paintbrush with an extended arm so it would not smear paint on either of them. They both laughed, which effectively ended the kiss, although it did seem funny.
Henry cleared his throat. “I seem to have, er, interrupted your work.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Cara teased, albeit breathlessly. “But maybe I should clean this.” She was painting in watercolor, so it took only moments to dip the brush in a nearby pot of water and wipe it clean.
Henry watched her throughout the procedure. She couldn’t tell exactly what was going on in his mind. The corners of his mouth tilted upward, but his eyes were troubled. If he was having misgivings, it did not dampen Cara’s feelings, for she was sure they would pass. Her own heart soared with elation.
She set the brush aside, not knowing what should come next. He stepped forward but did not entirely close the gap between them. “Cara, I—”
She leaned toward him. “Yes?”
But he stood, not speaking, as though at a loss for words. Suddenly his attention turned toward the window. “I believe Amelia is coming.”
Cara followed his gaze. Amelia was skipping up the path to the cottage door. She was dressed in her gymnastic costume, anticipating another riding lesson.
Disappointed as she was, Cara wanted to laugh. “I suppose she didn’t want to wait for me to fetch her.” She placed a tentative hand on Henry’s arm. “We will continue this conversation another time, yes?”
“Yes, we must.” He covered her hand with his own, caressing it gently. Then he lifted it to his lips. The kiss he placed there sent a thrill to every part of her. Still caressing her hand, he added, “We’ll have to postpone it until after this visit of the Myerses is over. Can you wait until then?”
There was no mistaking how passionate that kiss had been. Filled with love, it could only be a promise of a perfect future.
“Yes,” Cara said, smiling. “I’ll wait.”
They were going to give Amelia the reins today. She didn’t know this yet, however. Mr. Hart was still keeping the pony on the lunge line while they made a series of loops around the ring as a warm-up.
Henry was nervous, but not because he felt Amelia wasn’t ready. This was the first lesson with his mother present. She and Amelia had not interacted with one another since meeting on the driveway, and both had been content to leave it that way. But today they would see if the two could work together when engaged in the sport they both loved.
So far, things were going well. The countess approved of the pony, and she’d even expressed a reasonably good opinion of Amelia’s form in the saddle.
“Did you talk with her?” his mother asked as they watched Amelia take another turn around the ring.
Henry sent a quick glance in Cara’s direction. She stood on the other side of the ring, beaming as she watched Amelia. So far during this lesson, she had kept clear of Henry and the countess, although several times she met Henry’s gaze across the ring, her eyes shining with affection.
It was hard not to look at this kind, beautiful woman who was chipping away the sorrow that had encrusted his heart for years. He had so many things to say to her, and so many things to ask. He had not intended to kiss her. But he had, and new ideas had sprung up so quickly that they left him as breathless as the kiss. But the headiness taking hold of him could not negate the fact that there were obstacles ahead. Those could not be ignored or easily surmounted. For now, he focused his hopes on this meeting with the American businessman. It could be an important step toward reaching his goal and enable him to pursue his future on his own terms. “Miss Bernay has agreed to step into the role of governess while the Myerses are here.”
“She seems strangely happy about it,” his mother observed.
“She believes she is helping us, and that is a great satisfaction to her.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?”
He did not miss the suspicion in her voice. She knew her son well. He would have to stay on the offensive to deflect her concerns. “You should not always ascribe bad motives to everyone, Mother. It’s neither charitable nor wise.”
His mother sniffed but made no reply.
Mr. Hart brought the pony to a halt and began to gather up the lunge line.
“We can’t be done already!” Amelia complained, recognizing this movement as signifying the end of a lesson.
“No, miss, we’re just getting started,” Mr. Hart assured her. “You’ve learned how to sit on a pony; now we’re going to teach you how to ride one. Today, you get the reins.”
“Hooray!” Amelia raised her arms and wiggled with excitement.
“Act with some decorum, child!” the countess called out. “Remember that it is possible to become a perfect horsewoman while remaining a perfect lady.”
Henry went into the ring and held the bridle while Mr. Hart unhooked the rope and loosened the reins. During this process, Amelia settled back into the saddle, but her face also settled into a pout. Henry knew this was a reaction to his mother’s words, not the prospect of guiding the pony on her own.
He said quietly, “Remember that you are a very good rider, Amelia. The countess will give you a lot of directions today. Just think about what she is saying, not how she is saying it. She is an excellent rider, and her instructions will help you. Can you do that for me?”
Amelia gave a little nod, but her glower didn’t lift. “I still wish she wasn’t here.”
Henry responded with an understanding smile. “Fair enough.”
Henry and Mr. Hart instructed Amelia on the proper way to hold the reins, how to use them to steer the pony, and the methods to get the animal moving and to a halt again. Cara paid close attention. It had been a scant two hours since that wonderful kiss, and she had already thought of a hundred things she would need to learn or improve upon in order to be a proper countess. Riding was one of them. She would have to get over her fear and become an excellent horsewoman. That was just one of the many ways she would fulfill her new role.
Cara would remember that kiss forever. It was the moment her world was turned upside down and finally placed exactly where it should be. It was true that Henry had not declared himself outright, but Car
a wasn’t worried. Not after the way he’d looked at her when he said that yes, they would talk again. And the way he’d kissed her hand—oh, who would have thought such a simple gesture could hold so much meaning? She gently touched the spot on her hand where Henry had placed his lips. How could this not be exactly what God had intended?
There were still plenty of issues to work out, of course. Cara was not so naïve as to think everything would be easy. One glance at the countess, who had thrown her only dark glares all morning, told her that. Cara would have to work extra hard to win over the Countess of Morestowe to the idea that someone with humble origins could marry her son.
Seeing the woman’s frown aimed at her again, Cara responded with a friendly smile. Even though it was not reciprocated, Cara was determined to keep trying. Surely there was some way to reach that woman’s heart.
Returning her attention to Amelia, Cara decided that as soon as she and Henry could discuss things, she was going to press until she got the true story about where the girl had come from and who her parents were. Surely he would tell her now.
“Remember,” said Mr. Hart, summing up his directions to Amelia, “to start her moving, use your voice, then, if needed, the kick and the tap with the whip. Are you ready?”
Looking determined, Amelia nodded. Henry and Mr. Hart stepped back from the pony. Amelia made the clicking sound with her tongue that they had taught her. Maisie’s ears flicked, but she didn’t move.
“Try again,” Mr. Hart directed.
Amelia tried again, louder this time. She accompanied it with a nudge from her left foot, which was in the stirrup, and a tap on the right side of the horse with her whip. That did the trick. Amelia smiled triumphantly as the pony began to walk.
“Hold your hands steady!” the countess ordered. “Changing the positioning of your hands can signal that you want a change of pace. You don’t want to give the horse conflicting commands.”
The Artful Match Page 26