Page 13 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
Tristan leaned back, the paper resting upon the table between them. His eyes settled on Sedgwick for a moment, and thesolicitor only gave him a quiet nod. Then he returned his gaze to Mrs. Ashcombe.
“So when do I meet this—” he lowered his gaze briefly to the page, his voice firm “—Eliza Harwood?”
Chapter 4
The soft knock at her chamber door drew Eliza from her quiet thoughts as a maid stepped in with a small curtsey. “Lady Rivers is asking for you, Miss Harwood. She is waiting in the parlor.”
Before Eliza could respond, Clara rushed past the maid and hurried across the room.
“Eliza, I came as soon as I heard,” she said, her voice brimming with excitement. However, the moment she caught sight of Eliza lying upon the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, her expression faltered.
“What is this?” Clara asked, walking towards her and sitting gently on the side of the mattress. “You look like you had a dog that died. What happened?”
Eliza lifted a hand to the maid who still stood by the door. “Thank you, Ruth. That will be all for now.”
Ruth curtsied again and stepped out, closing the door softly behind her. Silence hung between them for a moment, and Eliza felt herself unable to breathe for almost a full minute. Then she turned to Clara, her hazel eyes heavy with unease.
“It is this wedding,” she whispered. “I do not have any good feelings about it.”
Clara blinked, taken aback. “You mean … the wedding slated for tomorrow?”
“Yes, that very one.” Eliza pushed herself even more upright and pulled her knees close, clasping her arms around them.
Clara studied her for a long moment, then sat back with a sigh. “Why now, Eliza? Why are you troubled? You have had days to prepare yourself, have you not?”
“I have always been troubled,” Eliza replied, her voice sharper than she intended. “From the first moment Marcus spoke of this arrangement, I feared it. I suppose I convinced myself it was one of his passing whims, and that it would vanish as quickly as it appeared, but it has not. It has only grown more real with each passing hour.”
Clara nodded thoughtfully, her brown curls bouncing as she did so. “Your brother never pursues anything unless it will benefit him greatly. That is no secret.”
Eliza gave a humorless laugh. “And what benefit does he stand to gain from forcing me into marriage with a stranger?”
Clara raised her brows. “The benefit, dearest, is that you are no longer his burden. Once you are wed, your care falls into another man’s hands, and your brother is free.”
Eliza’s gaze fell to her lap. “It feels as though it is more than that. There is something else. Something he has not confessed. I do not know, Clara. I can just feel it.”
Clara waved a hand dismissively, though her eyes softened. “Do not work yourself into knots. This is a wedding, Eliza, not a funeral.”
“There is that, too,” Eliza murmured, looking toward the windows. “I do not even know what the Earl of Evermere looks like. For all I know, he is a short, hairy man kept indoors and permitted to step outside only once a fortnight.”
Clara pressed her lips together to contain a laugh. “A little less fantasy and a little more sense, if you please. Life is not a gothic novel.”
Eliza turned her head back, her hazel eyes still shining with unshed tears. “You know, I always thought I would marry a man I loved. Truly loved. I thought my heart would decide such a thing, but now, the dream is gone, all thanks to my brother. Every choice in my life has been taken from me and placed in the hands of men who believe themselves entitled to commandme. First my father, then Marcus, now this earl. And what of me? What of my desires?”
Her voice broke at the end, and she pressed a hand against her mouth as though to push back the tears threatening to escape.
Clara leaned forward, sliding her arms around her shoulders and drawing her close. “Oh, Eliza. You cannot think of it that way, or you will drive yourself mad.”
“I cannot help it,” Eliza whispered against her friend’s shoulder. “My parents always said they would remain with me in spirit, that I would never be alone. Yet I feel abandoned.”
“Now, that is where you are wrong,” Clara said, stroking her back soothingly. “You are never alone, because you have me. And perhaps, just perhaps, this earl is not the monster you fear. It may not be what you want to hear, but people surprise you.”
Eliza pulled back and shook her head, her voice growing once more. “But that is just it. My life, my future, is now reduced to a bunch of perhaps. Perhaps he will be kind. Perhaps he will not despise me. Perhaps I will not regret this union for the rest of my days. I am to marry a man I have never met, and all I can do is cling to foolish hope.”
Clara smiled softly, wiping the corner of Eliza’s eye with her thumb. “Well, sometimes foolish hope is enough. It holds you firmly until reality becomes kinder.”
Eliza let out a trembling laugh. “You always know how to soothe me, Clara, do you not?”
Clara leaned back, resting her hands in her lap with an exaggerated air of command. “Yes. And this leads to my next decree.
