Page 58 of The Beastly Duke's Christmas Bride
It looked like a head and shoulders on the canvas, but he couldn’t be certain. No one had ever said he had an eye for art. Sebastian still nodded in agreement for her all the same. “That sounds like a fine idea.”
“Actually, would you sit for me?”
His gaze dropped to the chair with hard arms covered in green velvet. “I thought I was already sitting.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “I mean I want to draw you. There isn’t any artwork of you in the house, I believe. Why haven’t you sat for a portrait before?”
“I don’t like sitting.”
“You’re sitting now. Don’t move,” she said and then darted back to her canvas. It only gave him half a second to note a sudden light in her eyes. Then her hands began to move across the canvas as she smudged her work in one direction and another. “I think I can make this work.”
Then she looked over at him with a puzzled expression that left Sebastian feeling like she was undressing him down to his soul. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. This was not why he had come. Thinking of a polite way to get out of this, he cleared his throat.
“Yes, there we are. Stay still, please.”
Well, if she said please…
He nodded before reluctantly sinking lower into the chair. As Isabel was seated on a stool, her feet drawn up under her skirts, she nearly towered over him. It was an interesting angle but he found he rather liked it. Maybe he could distract himself by watching her while she watched him.
“Are you… are you sure you wouldn’t rather paint something else? Someone else?” He asked uncomfortably. “If your brother…”
“He left.” The charcoal was put down and then she was playing with her paints. They smelled, he noted, and wrinkled his nosewhile trying to see what she was doing. Mixing them? “I don’t understand why he came, you know.”
Surprised she was bringing him up after saying she didn’t want to discuss it, Sebastian hesitated to say a word. “Is that so?”
Isabel muttered something under her breath. Then she straightened up and studied her paintbrush. A horsehair seemed to be stuck or something of that case. “The moment we were alone in the drawing room, he was apologizing to me for all that had befallen our family. He had never apologized before, you see.”
“He didn’t?” Sebastian asked flatly. He knew he had enough reason not to like the man.
Seemingly not noticing, his wife carried on. She spoke as she painted, sounding distracted. Maybe she was talking more to herself than him. All the same, Sebastian listened as best he could.
“All through the trials, he proclaimed his innocence. Then he had excuses. He was tricked, he didn’t understand, he didn’t think anyone would be hurt. One excuse after another. Everyone ate it up, of course. They wanted to believe the best of him, but I had to wonder… If he was truly sorry, if he was truly mistaken, surely he could still apologize.
“Maybe that’s why it feels so strange. Is it strange? To hear your brother apologize. He really did sound contrite to me. Thomas sat me on the seat beside him and took my hands in his. Thenhe talked about the hardship of wearing the mantle as the next viscount, of having to care for our family and our name and the title. I suppose it is a heavy weight. But that’s why he spent all his life preparing for it, I would think. There was much more schooling for him than I would ever receive. All the tutors he went through… and then he’s been trapped in the wilds of Scotland lately, trying to figure out what he wishes to do next. Or what he…”
Sebastian blinked as Isabel climbed off the stool to come and stare at him. “What?”
“You have more of a red complexion than I do. But I think I’ll use some apple undertones. You don’t mind? It’s what you smell like,” she added before returning to her seat.
His mouth opened and closed. He hadn’t realized she ever noted his cologne. For a second he wanted to ask if she minded it. If she liked it.
Isabel sighed. “Apple it is. Do you have a brother? Any siblings?”
“I had an elder brother once,” Sebastian found himself saying before he could catch himself. “But we weren’t close.”
“Thomas said… he said regretted abandoning me.” Isabel worked quicker, splashing orange onto the canvas. Her movements were swift and clear. He didn’t care about the art, but watched her. “How honest he sounded. How sincere. I could see the tears in his eyes and the way he clung to me… I don’t…Do you think he could have meant it?” She abruptly paused but it took her a long time to finish the question and look his way.
This was his chance, Sebastian realized. To help her, to protect her. He opened his mouth to say that Thomas should never enter their house again.
Except one look at Isabel showed that she was hoping. She wanted her brother to be honest, to be kind. The tentative way she bit her lower lip said everything.
“I don’t…” Sebastian’s voice sounded strained even to himself. “I don’t know. I don’t know your brother and couldn’t say.”
Whatever openness he had seen within Isabel a moment ago shuttered away. It felt as though he had just thrown away his one chance to connect with her. He found himself leaning forward as though to snatch her back, to cling to her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. There’s so much in my head… I only need you for a few more minutes, and then I can continue this painting alone,” Isabel said at last.
She offered a flat smile before focusing on her painting. When she looked again at him, Sebastian noted the serious expression and how she wasn’t saying anything any longer. Whatever had inspired her to speak a moment ago was gone.
