Page 69 of The Gentleman Was Right
“Nothing is amiss. We’re—” She had no idea what they were.
“Something is amiss. You barely looked at each other while we ate.” Belinda wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been wondering, has Edward painted since the wedding?”
“Painted?”
“With a brush.” Belinda twirled her hand in the air, as if Violet might be unfamiliar with the concept.
“I know what painting is,” she grumbled. “And no. I don’t believe so.”
“You’d know.” Belinda gestured at the doorway. “Come. I want you to see something.”
Curious, Violet followed Belinda down the hallway.
They entered a room with large windows, very little furniture, and an easel in the corner.
“When Edward returned from his trip to the cottage, he brought a single painting with him. It wasn’t finished yet, and he toiled over it for hours at a time.” She walked across the room and pulled the cover off the easel.
Violet blinked at the unexpected sight. “That’s…me.”
“Maybe.” Belinda tipped her head to the side as if she were considering it.
“Not maybe.” There was zero doubt that she was looking at herself. It was a perfect likeness, even down to the tattered gown she had been wearing on the day they had met.
“Maybe,” Belinda repeated. “It’s rather hard to tell from this angle.” She rotated her finger. “Turn around.”
Without pausing to consider exactly why she was following Belinda’s instructions, Violet moved so she was standing next to the painting with her back facing Belinda.
“It’s still a little hard to tell with your hair up, but the shade is almost an exact match. And your shape is nearly identical.” Violet turned so she could see Belinda out of the corner of her eye and caught the other woman pursing her lips. “It’s definitely you,” she added, as if there had been any doubt. “The thing I can’t figure out is, why did he paint you from behind?”
“It’s more powerful that way.”
“Well, sure, from an artistic perspective, that’s true, but I’ve seen practically every painting Edward has ever done, and there is nothing he loves better than painting portraits. He’s exceptionally talented and can capture the essence of a person in a painting like no one else can.”
“That’s high praise,” Edward said from the doorway.
Having expected him to spend more time with his brother, she was startled at the sound of his voice.
“I do love painting portraits, but I can only capture so much from memory,” he added.
“I didn’t know you painted,” Violet blurted.
He rubbed the back of his neck as his gaze dropped to the ground. “It never came up.”
It was a logical explanation. They hadn’t really had the opportunity to explore each other’s likes and dislikes, let alone their hobbies, so his reasoning was sound, even though he seemed uncharacteristically self-conscious about it.
Belinda, though, wasn’t as accepting.
Clicking her tongue, she said, “You shouldn’t keep parts of yourself hidden from your wife.”
“Belinda.” His voice was gruff. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Meddling.”
His sister frowned. “You obviously require help. You’ve only been married a handful of days, and yet something is off between you. I recognize tension when I see it.”
“And you thought violating my privacy would help? You know I don’t like sharing my work until it’s finished.”
