Page 8 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
“I suppose it would be too much to ask that you knock before entering my room.”
He shut the door behind him with a click. “The last thing you want to do is waste my time with sass.”
Her lips pressed tight. She placed the brush on the table before her and waited. Whatever her brother had to say, it couldn’t be worse than anything he had said before.
“I’ve brought news,” Marcus eventually said, walking across the chamber with deliberate strides. He sat down on the edge of her bed, his hand settling on his coat. “Good news.”
She arched her brow. “What news?”
“It has all been arranged,” Marcus began, his tone measured and calculated. “You are to marry Lord Tristan Vale, the Earl of Evermere.”
For a moment, she could not speak. She blinked at him, uncertain whether she had misheard, then, at the very last minute, a sharp and quick laugh broke from her lips.
Marcus narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes. Did you hear what you just said?”
“Yes,” Marcus responded, his voice flat and devoid of any kind of humor.
“And it is quite hilarious,” Eliza said, shaking her head. “You have either taken up a role as a court jester, or you have finally lost your mind.”
His expression hardened. “You will not speak to me in that manner.”
“Is this a joke? No lord would ever agree to marry a girl from a family in ruin. I have nothing to offer, Marcus. No inheritance or promise of dowry.”
Marcus’s mouth curved into a smile, even though it held nothing but mischief. “It is fortunate you need not worry about that. Lord Tristan knows nothing of our state. All he knows is that you are the daughter of a powerful baron, with noble connections and wealthy friends. As a female, you are left with a small inheritance held in trust. That will be difficult to disprove.”
Her breath left her sharply. “You mean to have me enter into marriage by deceit? You truly have gone mad.”
He rose and crossed the room, stopping near the small table where her brushes lay. “This is everything we have been hoping for.”
She stood, squaring her shoulders. “No. It is everything you have been hoping for. I will not do it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You have no choice.”
“I am certain that I have a choice in whom I marry. I will not submit to a scheme or give myself to a man under false pretenses.”
Marcus’s hand came down hard on the table, rattling the bowl of colors. “Need I remind you again of our situation? Our father is gone. We have no income, no standing. The roof falls in eachpassing day, and the walls rot around us. Your purpose to this family is to make yourself useful.”
Her lips trembled, but she held her ground. “You are the reason we are in this state. You squandered what we had on dishonest dealings and disgraced our name. Why should I have to pay for your transgressions?”
Marcus leaned close, his face tight with fury. “Enough.”
Eliza exhaled and continued to watch him.
His gaze fell on the canvas by the window. The painted drapes and carriages gleamed in vivid color.
“And this?” he said with a sharp laugh. “This is what you do while the house decays? A child’s game. It will never feed you.”
Her hand clenched against her skirts. “There must be another way.”
“There is none,” Marcus said. His voice cut across the chamber like a knife. “If you refuse, then the house will crumble over our heads, and you will bear the blame.”
He straightened and smoothed his coat again as he walked toward the door. Then he grabbed the doorknob and turned to her. “You will marry him. And that is final.”
He stepped out, and the door shut tight behind him.
Eliza stood still, her breath uneven. Her hand trembled when she lifted the brush again, but she could not bring herself to paint. She stared at the bright colors she had bought at such cost. She would have to marry an unknown earl.
