Page 53 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
“That I was a brooder?”
She shrugged. “Yes. A brooding earl.”
Tristan scoffed. “That is the most inaccurate characterization I have ever heard.”
“Is it?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head.
“I—” he stammered, then stopped, the words slipping from his grasp.
Eliza threw her head back and laughed. “It is fascinating to see you dumbfounded.”
Tristan leaned into his seat, shaking his head, though his lips betrayed the smallest hint of amusement. “I hope you enjoyed it, for you will not see it again.”
“Is that certain?” Eliza pressed.
“It is a promise,” Tristan replied firmly.
They both settled into silence again, and Eliza’s gaze returned to the book in her hand. She still couldn’t look at him without accompanying it with some reason.
Then his voice came again, softer. “We are here.”
Eliza felt her heart grow still as the manor appeared down the road. She couldn’t wait to exit the carriage and envelop herself in the usual silence and serenity she was used to.
The tension in the carriage was slowly making its way above her neck. She took one look at Tristan as his eyes settled outside the carriage window and wondered in that moment what he could possibly be feeling.
***
Eliza was just waking up the next morning when she heard the knock at her door. Her eyes snapped open even more properly, and her eyes settled on the doorknob. Was it Tristan? But then, if it was, surely he would announce himself.
“Enter,” she eventually said.
The door pushed open, and Rose walked in, an eager smile on her face. Eliza looked down at her hands and noticed the envelope wedged between her fingers. Rose stepped forward after curtsying and held out the envelope.
“A letter for you, my lady.”
Eliza took it quickly, her eyes darting to the familiar handwriting upon the seal.
“It is from Clara!” she cried, breaking it open with eager fingers. She read the neat script, her lips moving silently until she reached the end, then she pressed the paper to her chest with a laugh of delight. “She will be here within the week. She says she has missed me as much as I have missed her.”
Her excitement escaped her in a small shout, and Rose clapped her hands in delight before embracing her. “That is wonderful, my lady.”
At that moment, Mrs. Yarrow entered, brows drawn in mild disapproval. “Is everything all right in here?”
Eliza froze and felt her cheeks grow completely red. “Forgive me, Mrs. Yarrow. I may have been a little loud.”
The housekeeper’s expression softened. “I am glad for your good news, my lady, but let us keep it gentler. His Grace is still asleep, and you know how sound travels through these halls.”
“Of course,” Eliza said quickly, looking down at the floor. “I shall be more mindful.”
Mrs. Yarrow gave a satisfied nod and left them. As soon as the door closed, Eliza turned to Rose again, her smile wide. The happiness still lingered in her as she seized the maid’s hands.
“Clara, here in Evermere! I can hardly believe it. We have not sat face-to-face in so long. There is so much to tell her.”
Rose returned her joy, though after a moment, she lowered her voice. “I must prepare you, my lady. His Lordship has requested breakfast with you this morning.”
The thought made Eliza’s pulse lift in a different way. She remembered the carriage ride the evening before…how thewheel had struck the stone, how she had been thrown forward, and how Tristan’s arms had caught her just in time. The warmth of that memory followed her while Rose arranged her hair and fastened her gown.
***
