Albert nodded once again.
“I do, Father,” he said. “And I accept that.”
Seemingly satisfied, the earl heaved another sigh.
“Very well,” he said, still clearly reluctant about the situation, but no longer able to argue. “You may go. But remember what I said. You will be marrying Miss Elwood.”
Albert rose and nodded, bidding his father a silent farewell. But as he left the study, he couldn’t help smiling to himself.We shall see about that, Father…
Chapter Twelve
Martha stared at the doorway of the drawing room long after Lord Billington took his leave. Her head was spinning as she tried to process everything that had just happened. Her father had told her that the viscount would be calling on her. What he hadn’t told her was that he would be inviting her on a date. And no one could have convinced her that she would accept the invitation. What on earth was going on?
She thought about the way Lord Billington’s eyes lit up when she told him about the other artwork she had done in the mansion. He had had a pleasant smile on his face when he entered the room, and the flowers had been a lovely gesture. But he had become a completely different person as they discussed art. She wished that she had thought to ask him if he did any painting. By the way he reacted to her paints and brushes, she thought it was possible. And clearly, he enjoyed viewing art as much as she did. What were the odds that they would share a love of art?
She didn’t realize she was still staring at the long empty doorway until Isabel shifted her weight in Martha’s periphery. She looked at her cousin, unsurprised to see her staring at Martha with curiosity. She herself glanced at the doorway, as if suddenly expecting the viscount to reappear. Then, she turned back to Martha, shaking her head in wonder.
“Well, that was an unexpected visit,” she said.
Martha shook her head.
“Father told me he would come,” she said. “I just didn’t expect that.”
Isabel frowned, looking at her cousin quizzically.
“Expect what?” she asked.
Martha gestured toward where her future fiancé was standing as he looked at her painting.
“Didn’t you notice how different he seemed?” she asked. “He wasn’t cold or aloof. In fact, he seemed delighted to talk with me today. And he brought me these lovely flowers. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he has a twin brother.”
Isabel giggled.
“One who just happened to be in the same kind of accident he was, and ended up with identical scarring on his face?” she asked.
Martha smiled.
“Of course, I’m being facetious,” she said. “But I am serious about the difference in him. It was more opposite than night and day. It was very strange, don’t you think?”
Isabel’s face softened, and she stepped closer to Martha. She reached out and gently squeezed Martha’s hand, giving her a sad smile.
“I know you are loathe to marry,” she said. “And I cannot fathom why your father wishes for you to do so, especially against your will. But I hope that over time, you can find the happiness you deserve.”
Martha shook her head, even though she didn’t know why she was doing so.
“I don’t know what to think of Lord Billington now,” she said. “And he was genuinely kind about my artwork. What do you make of it?”
Isabel gave her a warm smile.
“I think that you have every right to be wary of him,” she said. “This entire situation has been very stressful. But perhaps, it’s stressful for him, as well. And perhaps, he doesn’t know how to navigate it any better than you do.”
Martha looked at her cousin, considering her words.
“Do you think he’s as reluctant to marry as I am?” she asked.
Isabel shrugged.
“I cannot say,” she said. “What I do think is that maybe he’s not such a bad person. Maybe all you need to do is get to know him better.”
