In Pursuit of the Painter by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter Sixteen
“She frightens me a little,” Emma said in a whisper as she and Isabel waited by the drawing room window for Miss Hansford’s arrival. “Michael, why did you invite her?”
“Yes, why did you invite her?” Isabel turned away from the window, curls swaying.
Michael straightened his cravat, shrugging one shoulder.
“Are you in love with her?” Emma asked in an accusatory voice.
“No.” Michael scoffed, though the question made him a little too defensive. “You two are being ridiculous. I invited her because she needs friends.”
The twins exchanged a wary glance. “Does she want friends?”
“I’m not certain.” That was the question Michael had been battling with. There was much he still did not know about Miss Hansford, but he knew she was a human, not a monster, and humans did not often thrive when they were alone. Because of his portrait, Miss Hansford had been banished from her home, and it ached his heart to know that it was all his fault. “Whether she wants friends or not, we must all treat her with kindness. The misfortunes she suffers now have come at my hand, so it is our responsibility to help her in any way that we are able.”
Mother stood near Michael, listening to the conversation. She nodded her approval. “Not to worry, we will be kind to Miss Hansford. Won’t we?” She eyed the twins, who each gave a reluctant nod.
“She still does frighten me,” Emma mumbled.
“You are not alone. She frightens me a little too,” Michael said. He chuckled under his breath. It was embarrassing to confess, but it was true. Underneath her bristled exterior though, Michael suspected Miss Hansford was hiding something. He couldn’t believe that she was naturally so coarse. She had built those walls and thorns herself for a reason he didn’t yet know, but was determined to discover.
Isabel gasped. “She’s here!” Then she ducked below the windowsill, crawling out of sight before standing at the opposite corner of the room.
Michael caught sight of her blue pelisse out the window, complete with the three brass buttons down the back. The image gave rise to the memory of when he had first seen her at the cricket match in that same jacket. She had worn it in the middle of summer, just as she did now.
“Does she wear long sleeves to cover the scars on her arms?” Emma asked. Michael had forgotten that his sisters had also witnessed Miss Hansford’s torn sleeve that day in his studio.
“I suppose so,” Michael said. “But we must not speak of it around her. Do you understand?”
They nodded. “I wouldn’t dare,” Isabel said.
“She might bite me if I did,” Emma added.
Michael hid his smile as he turned away from the window. Less than a minute passed before Miss Hansford joined them in the drawing room of the townhouse. As she passed through the doorway, a hush fell over the room. Her fingers were interlocked in front of her, shoulders pushed back and chin high. Michael’s gaze hovered over her face. He knew it so well, yet he was still surprised by her beauty each time he saw her. The green in her eyes was more prominent tonight, brought out by the blue of her pelisse. Her dark lashes swept down, casting shadows over her cheeks. When her gaze found his, it flickered to the floor.
Michael walked forward, tipping his head down to look at her. His objective was obtained when she lifted her eyes from the floor and looked up at him. “Welcome to our home, Miss Hansford.” He smiled, hoping to erase the unease in her features. “You have met my sisters, Emma and Isabel, and this is my mother, Mrs. Cavinder.” He waved her forward. “Mother, meet Miss Patience Hansford.”
The two exchanged bows of greeting. As the daughter of an earl, anyone would have been surprised to see Miss Hansford willing to dine with their family, but she seemed to have gained a little humility since he had last known her the year before. She also seemed more weary, and perhaps a little broken.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Hansford,” Mother said. “I am so grateful that Michael invited you here.”
“I am grateful to have been invited,” Miss Hansford said. Her face was stoic.
As they began removing to the dining room, Michael stopped beside Miss Hansford, extending his arm. She took it slowly, keeping her gaze fixed forward. Her fingers wrapped around his elbow. “I should have asked what your favorite meal is,” Michael said, leaning slightly toward her ear. She smelled of roses. He snapped his posture back, keeping his mind focused. “I hope you like mutton.”
“I do not.”
Michael’s chest deflated, but a surge of irritation followed the disappointment. She could have at least pretended she liked it. Miss Hansford was nothing if not honest. Well, aside from the rumors she had spread about him at the ball.
A slight twitch at the corner of her mouth made him freeze. After several seconds of his frustrated silence, she looked at him sidelong. “In truth, it is my favorite.”
He let out a laugh of disbelief. He hadn’t thought her capable of teasing. He looked down at her as they walked, struggling to understand the variance in her behavior. His gaze caught on the necklace at her chest. It was engraved at the edges with a pearl embedded at the center. A small piece of lilac amethysthung by a threadlike chain from the larger pendant. The unique design flooded his mind with recognition.
It was the necklace Mother had sold.
He had no doubt.
He stared at it for a long moment, noting once again the engravings on the sides. He stopped walking, too shocked to move.
He tore his gaze away from the pendant after several more seconds, raising his attention to Miss Hansford’s face.
She was glaring at him.
His face warmed as he realized how his attentions must have appeared. The location of her necklace was a place his eyes should not have lingered so long. “Your necklace,” he blurted. He nearly looked at it again, but was now far too embarrassed to lower his gaze. “Where did you find it?”
Her scowl persisted as she glanced down at the pendant, covering it with one hand. “My mother purchased it for me in Inglesbatch.”
“Did she purchase it previously owned?”
Miss Hansford’s brow furrowed. “I believe so.”
Michael glanced at Mother, Emma, and Isabel, who had all entered the dining room up ahead. He shook his head with disbelief before turning back toward Miss Hansford. “This necklace belonged to my mother. She sold it so I would have enough money to purchase the roll of canvas I used for your portrait more than one year ago.”
Miss Hansford uncovered the pendant, eyes wide with wonder. “Are you certain it was hers?”
“Yes. I have never seen a pendant like it before.”
Miss Hansford fell silent, rubbing the pearl between her fingers.
“That is a very odd coincidence,” Michael said, meeting her gaze.
She nodded, her voice distant. “Indeed.”
Michael observed as she fiddled with the pendant at her neck for the first few minutes of dinner. She might have been doing it unintentionally, but her actions drew more attention to it than if she had left it alone. Michael watched the precise moment Mother recognized the necklace. She was between spoonfuls of soup, the utensil hovering near her mouth as her eyes settled on the pendant. She covered her surprise well, continuing to eat her soup after just a moment’s hesitation.
The irony of the situation would not leave Michael’s mind. Of all that Miss Hansford had taken from him the year before, she had also taken his mother’s necklace with her. And now, despite all that she had lost, she still had that one piece of their family. It connected Miss Hansford to them, as if fate had known their paths would cross again.
Michael often thought too deeply for his own good, but he couldn’t help but think of his father. The man had been fond of irony. Perhaps this was all his doing.
Michael glanced heavenward, making sure his father knew of his suspicions.
As the meal carried on, Miss Hansford seemed to grow more comfortable. Mother was gracious and kind, avoiding sensitive topics and subjects, focusing instead on conversations that were not personal, asking Miss Hansford for advice on the current fashion trends for Emma and Isabel as well as the best social events to attend in town. His sisters had only been included in so many events because of Michael’s fame from the exhibition. He feared that it would not last forever. People would soon remember that Emma and Isabel were not the daughters of a gentleman.
From across the table, Michael watched Miss Hansford’s stoic expression relax, leaving small gaps of vulnerability. Each time she smiled, Michael’s heart stalled. She glanced at him periodically, as if to ensure he wasn’t noticing these cracks in her stone walls. Unfortunately for her, he had noticed each and every one.
In the drawing room, Emma requested that they play charades. Miss Hansford did not play, but simply watched. Michael was certain he made a fool of himself as he acted far too enthusiastically as a jaguar in order for he and his mother’s team to win. Miss Hansford’s laugh made it worth the embarrassment. He had never heard her laugh, but even as quiet and stifled as it was, he was grateful to have earned it.
Shortly after the game ended, Miss Hansford stood. “I must be going. I thank you for your hospitality this evening.” She turned to Mother with a small smile.
“It has been our pleasure, Miss Hansford,” Mother said. “If you feel so inclined, please join us for tea at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
Miss Hansford hesitated before giving a faint nod. Another smile pulled on her lips. “Thank you.”
Her eyes grazed over Michael before she bowed in his direction, starting toward the door. He followed her out into the entry hall. Very few candles were lit there, leaving just a faint glow by which to see. Flickering shadows came and went with the breeze from the open door.
“Thank you for coming,” Michael said. “Did you enjoy the evening?”
Miss Hansford tied her bonnet, turning to face him. Her movements were slow and careful. “I did.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He gave a soft smile. “You are welcome here anytime you wish. Do you—do you like living with your cousin?”
Miss Hansford looked down at her gloves, tugging at each fingertip. “She and her husband have been very generous taking me in.”
That did not answer his question, but by the sadness in her eyes, he could guess at the answer. “I assume you are comfortable there for the time being, but you must also feel uncertain about your future?”
Her lips pressed together. “My cousin won’t wish to harbor me forever. I still have to hide my face in London so I am not recognized.”
“You don’t have to hide anything here.” He gestured all around him at the house. “Nothing at all, and you are welcome anytime you wish. I know it cannot mend what I have done, but I wish to do all I can to ensure you are safe and comfortable.”
Miss Hansford’s brow twitched, and she drew an audible breath. As she exhaled, her hand rose to the pendant at her neck. “Will you return this to your mother for me?” her voice was abrupt.
Michael studied the determination in her features. “It is yours now. You don’t need to return it to her.”
“I want to.” She lifted her arms and began working at the clasp behind her neck. With her thick gloves, she struggled for several seconds.
He took a cautious step forward, touching her elbow.
Her arms lowered slowly to her sides, and her gaze followed him as he stepped behind her. A few curls fell over the slope of the back of her neck. He brushed them aside, ignoring the hammering of his pulse as his fingers grazed her skin. He needed to stop allowing himself to be so affected by her. Working quickly, he unclasped the necklace, letting it fall into Miss Hansford’s palms.
She turned to face him, a slight flush on her cheeks, visible even in the faint light. “Mr. Cavinder—” she paused, thrusting the necklace into his hand. “I-I am sorry for what I did.” The words seemed to almost cause her physical pain from the humility that they required.
Before he could respond, she whirled around and walked out the door.
