He felt bad for her, standing alone on the side of the road, peddling flowers to make ends meet. He certainly wasn’t thinking of impressing Miss Elwood with them. Not when his whole goal was to make her see they weren’t well suited for one another. But he supposed that it was best to not call on her empty-handed. That was bad form, no matter what his intentions were.
Chapter Ten: Martha
Martha chewed her lip, staring at the canvas in front of her. She had requested that her latest painting, one of Isabel, be brought to the drawing room. She was almost ready to present it to her cousin, but she needed to add a few final touches. She had been working on it intermittently for the past month, and she was hoping to have it ready and on display before Isabel came down. She gently stroked a crease in the white dress the painted version of her cousin was wearing with light gray paint, frowning as she did so. Why didn’t it look right to her?
She lowered her left hand, the gray tipped paintbrush grazing her painting apron. She shook her head, closing her eyes for a few seconds to try to clear her mind before she surveyed the painting again. But as she did so, she didn’t see the blank canvas she always pictured when she was trying to clear her thoughts. Instead, all she saw was the face of Lord Billington.
Normally, painting helped her to relax. It was the one thing she could do when she felt down or overwhelmed that made the whole world seem beautiful to her again. But that morning, she could hardly concentrate on painting for five minutes at a time. The painting was important to her, and she wanted Isabel to love it. If she could push away her thoughts of the man she was being forced to marry, she could do much better. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.
She opened her eyes again, staring at the painting. She noticed a painting in the background of where Isabel was sitting in the portrait needed a little more detail. She abandoned her work on Isabel’s white dress and tried to focus on the painting in question. Yet by the time she cleaned her brush and dipped it into the aqua colored paint, she couldn’t remember what detail she meant to add. All she could think about was Lord Billington’s blue eyes. What on earth was wrong with her?
“My goodness,” Isabel said, surprising Martha. “Why are you frowning so?”
Martha laughed, shaking her head and lowering her brush once again.
“It’s not a frown,” she said, teasing her cousin. “It’s a look of deep concentration.” Ordinarily, she would have felt bad for lying to her cousin. But there was a great deal of truth to it. She was trying very hard to concentrate on the painting. She just wasn’t saying that it was difficult for her right then, or why that was the case. She didn’t’ feel like getting into a discussion about her marriage to Lord Billington.
Isabel came toward her, stopping just before she reached the easel.
“May I see?” she asked hopefully.
Martha nodded. She was disappointed that she hadn’t finished the painting before Isabel joined her. But she couldn’t keep it from her cousin, now that she had asked.
“It’s not quite finished,” she admitted. “But it should be soon. I do hope you like it.”
Isabel grinned, hurrying around the easel and gasping loudly.
“Oh, my dear, Martha,” she breathed, her eyes lighting up. “What do you mean it’s not finished? It’s perfect. You’ve made me look so beautiful.”
Martha blushed, smiling shyly up at her cousin. No matter how many painting reveals she did for her family, she always wanted them to enjoy the work she had just done.
“Do you really like it?” she asked.
Isabel nodded, putting a hand between Martha and the damp painting.
“I absolutely adore it, Cousin,” she said. “Please, do not fret over its level of perfection. As far as I’m concerned, it couldn’t be any more so than it is right now.”
Martha smiled, pleased that her cousin liked the portrait Martha had done of her. She still couldn’t say that she was completely happy with it. But before she could study the painting again, the butler entered the drawing room.
“Miss Martha?” the butler asked, bowing as he addressed her. “One Lord Billington has come to call on you.”
Martha’s heart skipped. Her father had mentioned that he would be calling on her. She just hadn’t expected it to be quite so early. She glanced down at her hands and apron, which were covered in paint. She started to panic, when an idea occurred to her. Perhaps, by presenting herself that way to him, he would question her decorum, and thus, question their marriage arrangement.
“Please, show him in,” Martha said, rising and wiping her hands on her apron. Much of the paint was dry, but she wanted to ensure that she didn’t drip any remaining wet paint onto the floor or furniture.
An instant later, Lord Billington entered the room, looking very dashing in his tan suit and brown boots. To Martha’s surprise, he was holding a bouquet of beautiful daisies, sunflowers, gardenias and white roses. Isabel had to nudge her with her elbow to get Martha to focus. She followed Isabel’s example, curtseying politely at the viscount. He bowed in return, standing upright quickly and approaching with the flowers in his hand, and a quizzical expression on his face.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, looking her paint stained apron over with surprise.
Martha shook her head, suddenly regretting her choice to let him see her that way.
“Forgive me,” she said hurriedly. “I just wasn’t expecting you quite so early.”
The viscount nodded, his eyes finally moving to hers as he held out the bouquet to her.
“My apologies,” he said. “I could come back later, if it suits you better.”
Martha shook her head and reached for the flowers, trying to take care that she didn’t have any wet paint on her hand that could transfer to his tan suit jacket. Just as she started to reply, her hand brushed against his, and butterflies took flight in her stomach. She took a minute to catch her breath, before shaking her head again and giving him a small smile.
