Page 19 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
No.
He turned sharply. “Gideon?”
There he stood, Gideon Hale, his comrade from the army, a tall, red-haired man with a domineering presence and that signature sly smile on his face.
Tristan crossed the room in three strides and seized him in a firm embrace. “By God, it is you. What in Heaven’s name brings you here?”
Gideon laughed after Tristan broke the embrace. “I am afraid it is a rather boring story.”
“I would like to hear it,” Tristan insisted.
Gideon exhaled. “Oh well, after the war, fortune did not favor me. I tried to find a place, but doors shut faster than they opened. Then came this offer. It was either serve as valet to an earl, or muck out pigs in Essex. And you know, my lord, I was never fit for farming.”
Tristan struck his shoulder with a laugh. “Do not call me ‘my lord.’ You called me Tristan in the thick of battle, and I would not have it any other way.”
“But this is not the battlefield,” Gideon said with a smirk. “This is Evermere. You wear a title now.”
Tristan sighed. “That shouldn’t mean anything.”
“It should. That is how the world works, my lord.”
Tristan was about to protest again when the duke’s voice cut in, “Well? Will you still refuse a valet when one of your closest companions stands ready?”
Tristan looked from his grandfather to Gideon and felt the ground shift beneath him. A valet had always been unnecessary in his eyes, a burden upon his independence. Yet to send Gideon away would feel like betrayal.
“You will stay?” Tristan asked.
“If you will have me,” Gideon replied. “Though I must say, it will be strange pressing your coats instead of watching your back.”
Tristan gave a low chuckle. “I trust you with both.”
The duke leaned back with satisfaction. “Then it is settled. Evermere will have order, and you will have a man you trust at your side.”
Tristan felt the weight of the change settle upon him. Marriage, Evermere, and now Gideon within these walls. Everything he had known was shifting, and no matter how hard he wanted, he could not turn it back.
“Very well,” he said quietly. “I will not refuse him.”
The duke nodded once. “Good. You are learning at last.”
Tristan looked at Gideon, the faintest of smiles breaking across his face. “Welcome to Evermere, old friend.”
Chapter 6
It was her first night in Evermere, and no matter how hard Eliza tried, sleep did not come. She lay still and counted her breaths, even backward, yet her eyes still would not close.
The silence pressed around her, and for some reason, it felt new and sharp. She had wanted to be away from Marcus. She had wished for it. Now the stillness felt like a hollow room.
She sat up and pushed the bedsheets aside. Then she reached for the candle by the bed and lit it. After casting the room in a golden glow, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and opened the door. Exhaling as much as she could, she stepped into the hallway.
The path ahead of her was long and straight, and the wall panels shone in the light. The rugs were deep and comforting under her feet. She moved slowly and let her fingers touch and graze the wood. Then she paused by a portrait. A woman in emerald silk sat with her hands folded. The eyes in the painting looked almost warm, and Eliza tried to smile.
She walked on instead, drawing a breath and letting it out. She raised the candle a little and looked up at the plasterwork. She traced the shape of a leaf with her gaze.
She thought of pigment and light.
She thought of her brush.
“There is so much to paint here,” she whispered. “If I am allowed.”
