Page 49 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
“Mind-numbing boredom,” Evelyn said with conviction. “Truly the worst fate of all.”
Eliza laughed softly, glancing between them.
Evelyn touched her fan to Eliza’s shoulder. “Enjoy yourself, my dear. I leave him in your capable hands.”
With a final wave, she swept away, leaving the two of them alone near the stairs.
Tristan offered his arm. “Shall we?”
Eliza placed her hand lightly on it. “We shall.”
They walked outside together, where the carriage waited. Tristan helped her inside first before stepping in after her. The door shut, and the wheels rolled forward.
For the better half of the next hour, the only sound between them was that of the creaky wheels. Tristan tried to keep his focus on the dry path outside the carriage, but once in a while, his eyes would wander back toward her.
On one of those occasions, she caught him looking. “You keep staring at me. Is something wrong?”
“Not at all.”
Her lips curved slightly. “Are you certain? It would be rather embarrassing if I had something on my face and you refused to tell me.”
He shook his head. “There is nothing wrong.”
She narrowed her eyes at him as he struggled to find a way to express just how beautiful she looked. He wanted to tell her how her dress caught the light and how her hair seemed to almost shimmer. However, he forced the wrong words out instead.
“The dress looks well on you.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking down at it. “It was one of the gowns delivered last night. I was not sure which to choose, but this one seemed to call to me.”
“You chose well.”
She studied him for a moment, her eyes bright, as if she was expecting more. But he had no other words. Silence stretched again.
At last, she leaned forward, the brightness in her eyes still lingering, “Do you dislike these parties so much?”
He shrugged, like he found the answer to the question rather obvious. “I find them unnecessary.”
She leaned back against the cushion. “And yet you attend.”
“I have little choice.”
Eliza tilted her head. “I should think I will be just as uncomfortable as you.”
That earned a small smile from him. “At least you are honest.”
She gave a soft laugh, then looked out the window as the countryside continued to pass around them.
A little while later, they arrived at the party, and the last thing Evelyn felt was uncomfortable. As soon as Tristan found a quiet corner to bury himself, he watched Eliza mingle among the people. She talked like she had known them for a long time, and they listened to her like she was a dear friend of theirs.
“Is this another one of your talents, Eliza?” He murmured to himself as he watched her. “Easily finding your way among a large group of people?”
He watched her still, the disbelief not leaving his face for even a second. It was like she had transformed into a completely different person.
The garden swelled with laughter and polite chatter. The men gathered near the corners under the shade, balancing their cups of tea or brandy as if the weight of both were too much to bear. Tristan had hardly taken three steps when a cluster of lords broke away from the group and descended upon him.
“Lord Vale,” one of them said, his voice too loud for the rather quiet setting, “at last we see you among us. We were beginning to wonder if you were more shadow than man.”
Tristan allowed a small curve of his mouth. “I assure you, Lord Thompson, I am made of flesh and bone. Shadows do not have to endure garden parties.”
