Page 78 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
They walked on for nearly two hours while Robert spoke of repairs needed for a barn roof and tenants who worked through pain because no one else could manage the soil. Tristan listened as attentively as he could to everything.
By the time they turned back toward the inn, Tristan’s thoughts were heavy, circling round the same truth. What Marcus called progress would come at a cost too steep for the people who had the least.
As they approached the inn, voices carried through the open windows. The high, bright tones of children’s laughter. Tristan slowed down, immediately drawn by it.
Beneath the wide tree in the yard, Eliza sat with a book open in her lap, surrounded by a circle of children. They all leaned in and listened as attentively as they could as she read aloud. Jane sat behind her, as well, her face completely filled with concentration. She was braiding Eliza’s hair, but it was clear she was making a rather huge mess of things.
Eliza laughed when the braid tangled for the umpteenth time. “You are far braver than I am, Jane. I should have given up long ago.”
The little girl grinned. “It is almost perfect.”
“I believe you,” Eliza said warmly, and turned to another page of her book.
Tristan stopped at the edge of the yard, watching. Something in his chest shifted, unsettled and steadying all at once. She looked so natural there, her voice carrying over the laughter.
Mr. Kale leaned closer. “Children suit her, my lord.”
Tristan’s throat tightened before he answered. “They do, do they not?”
He walked forward at last, and the children scrambled to make room. Eliza looked up, her eyes meeting his with a spark he had not seen before.
“Come,” she said, patting the space beside her. “You must help us decide which story is best.”
He sat down, still in his coat, and for a few minutes, they spoke of nothing and everything at the same time. He let the children teach him things like the foolish endings of stories, the stubbornness of cats, and the best way to climb a treewithout tearing breeches. The children laughed, and the book lay forgotten.
However, one thing burned itself into Tristan’s thoughts, and that was Eliza’s smile.
The realization dawned on him in the middle of the children, and he couldn’t help but admit it, at least to himself. He wanted children.
And he wanted them with no one but her.
Chapter 20
A while later, as the children managed to settle into a blissful rhythm, Tristan decided to break it.
“Children, might I borrow Lady Vale for a moment?” He asked, his tone calm but leaving little room for protest.
The group dispersed reluctantly, scattering back to their games. Eliza rose and dusted off her gown before walking to Tristan’s side.
“You left early this morning,” she said lightly. “I thought perhaps the heat or the room had suffocated you.”
“Oh, trust it was neither,” Tristan replied, his eyes steady on hers. “I needed to clear my head. Mr. Kale here was of help. He showed me what is truly at stake should we proceed with this project.”
Eliza turned her gaze to Mr. Kale, who stood nearby with arms folded loosely. He gave a small smile.
“Yes, my lady,” Kale said. “We spoke at length. There is much to lose.”
Tristan nodded. “We cannot move forward with this project. Not until we are certain these people will not suffer.”
Eliza folded her hands, trying to suppress the smile of pride that crept across her face. Of course, Tristan wasn’t one of those people. This just confirmed it for her.
He continued, oblivious to her thoughts. “I intend to write to your brother at once, but before that, I must visit the other village. There are lords there who ought to be consulted. I should be back by evening.”
“I see,” Eliza murmured.
“Then tomorrow morning,” Tristan continued, “we can return to the estate.”
“That is fine by me,” Eliza said, though her heart felt oddly unsettled. “It will give me time to explore a little.”
