In Pursuit of the Painter by Ashtyn Newbold

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was impossible to stay angry with Michael, not when he had such obvious remorse and the eyes of a puppy.

Patience approached the doors of his townhouse with a deep breath. Her veins thrummed with excitement. The long chiffon sleeves of her gown did little to keep the cold air away from her skin, so she hurried inside the moment the door opened. During the time since Michael had called upon her to apologize, she had found it nearly impossible to focus on anything but her anticipation of that very evening.

To distract herself, she had written a letter to Hattie. It had taken her hours to draft, and another several hours to seal and post. In the letter, she had explained the feelings she had kept hidden for years. She explained how diminished Hattie had made her feel. It had come as a relief, a healing balm, to write those words. At the end of her letter, she had given Hattie the same piece of wisdom Michael had given her. People are not paintings. They exist for far more than to be looked at and admired.

Just before signing her name, Patience had expressed her forgiveness and wished Hattie well. She had even meant it. Deep in her bones, she hoped that her sister would find the sort of happiness Patience had tasted here in London with the Cavinders. She hoped Hattie would eventually feel remorse for her mistakes and that she would seek to mend them.

She had written a similar letter to Mama, and then she had written a reply to her father. She had told him that she would not be returning home because she would be marrying Mr. Cavinder.

She hoped Michael would not make her a liar.

As she walked into the entryhall, she glanced at the space all around her. There were more candles than usual, brightening the room in a warm glow. Michael’s household did not have very many servants, but the few that did occupy the small house stood at attention, lining the wall by the stairs.

Was this a formal dinner? Each time Patience had dined with the Cavinders, they had treated her as they would a close family member, doing away with certain social rules and expectations when it came to dining. Tonight, the house held a different air. The evening was important, distinguishing itself from all the others. She was glad that she had worn her finest dress. The ivory satin and chiffon was elegant enough to match her surroundings.

Her thoughts came to a sudden halt when she caught sight of Michael.

Even at the theatre he had not looked so handsome and formal. She had grown accustomed to seeing him in his shirtsleeves and paint-streaked smock, with his hair falling messily over his brow. Tonight, however, he was dressed in black. His boots were shined, and he wore a snowy white cravat. Combined with his freshly shaven jaw, and hair combed away from his face, she could hardly breathe. Her heart shuddered when he smiled, his eyes drinking her in with just as much reverence and awe as she felt.

He strode forward, taking her hands when he reached her. He traced his thumb over her knuckles, lifting them to his lips. His eyes rose to meet hers. “My mother and sisters are waiting in the drawing room,” he said. “But there is something I must show you first.” His lips curled into a grin as he reached into his pocket. He withdrew a long, folded piece of fabric.

Patience stared at it with confusion before realizing what it was. “A blindfold?”

“Yes. It will add to the suspense.” He brushed the hair away from her forehead, sending a string of shivers over her skin.

She cast him a suspicious look before he draped the fabric over her eyes, tying it behind her head. A giddy excitement rolled over her shoulders, making every muscle in her body tighten with anticipation. His hand slid around her upper arm, the other pressing against the small of her back as he guided her steps forward. “Where are you taking me?” Her voice was breathless, mingled with her laughter.

His voice came close to her ear. “If I told you, that would defeat the purpose of your blindfold.”

Mounting the stairs was difficult without her vision, but she managed to obey Michael’s instructions, safely reaching the top. Her cheeks ached from smiling when Michael finally stopped her, placing both hands on her shoulders.

“Keep your eyes closed when I remove the blindfold. Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

He untied the knot on the back of her head, slipping the fabric away from her face. The abundance of candlelight filtered through her eyelids. “May I look yet?”

“Be patient.” His voice carried a hint of teasing.

His footsteps trailed away and then returned to her side. She heard him draw a deep breath. “Open your eyes.”

The candlelight intensified, and she blinked several times before gazing up at the wall in front of her. She gave a quiet gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. She whirled to face Michael, heart pounding. It was a new portrait of her in the size she had originally requested more than one year before.

“As I said before, this is the only reason I kept The Monstrous Debutante.” Michael’s voice broke the silence. “Without you sitting in front of me, I needed something to reference as I completed this new one.”

A surge of emotion gripped her throat, and she looked down at the floor. She shook her head, covering her mouth with one hand.

Michael tucked his fingers under her chin, cupping one side of her face. “Do you hate it?” His brow creased with concern.

Patience rubbed the space beneath her nose, shaking her head fast. She was so overcome, so helpless to her emotions, that she could hardly speak. Her voice was a garbled mess. “I love the portrait. I-I love all of it.” She couldn’t finish. It wasn’t the portrait that had caused her tears, but the way it hung on the wall, directly beside Michael’s portrait. On the other side of his hung the likenesses of his late father, his mother, Emma, and Isabel. Patience’s own father had taken her portrait down from the gallery because she had not been good enough. She had not belonged. To think that the Cavinders would be her family now was too much to bear. She wasn’t certain her heart could contain so much happiness at once.

Michael caught each of her tears as they fell from her eyes. “Hanging it here beside my own was a large assumption, but I also hoped it might persuade you to give me the answer I’m seeking.” He cast her a glance that was uncharacteristically bashful. It melted her heart.

She sniffed, laughing.

His eyes searched hers, his lips curving in a smile as he held her face between his hands. The raw adoration in his gaze made her legs unstable. “I also wish to submit it for display at the exhibition, if you’ll permit me. The entirety of London ought to see you like this. I wish for them to know you as I do. Beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good.” His lips trailed over the hollow of her temple. “Far from monstrous.”

She sighed and tipped her chin upward.

“I love you, Patience.” The declaration was simple, but it unfurled wings in her chest and made fresh tears spill down her cheeks.

“I love you, too.”

Will you marry me?” he asked in a quiet voice.

She nodded, nudging her nose against his. “Yes.”

A smile curled his lips just before they captured hers. This kiss wasn’t the fire and desperation and uncertainty that their last kiss had been. This time it was peace, hope, and belonging that encircled her, squeezing tight and promising never to let go. She kissed him with the same fervor he displayed, grateful that their only spectators were a row of portraits on the wall. His insistent lips seared promises into her skin as he trailed kisses over her face and neck and back to her mouth again.

She wrapped her arms around Michael’s shoulders at the same moment his arms surrounded her, pulling her impossibly closer. Her feet lifted off the ground as they spun together, laughing and kissing and daring to dream of the future that they would now share.

There was still a great deal Patience hadn’t yet overcome, but she suspected that that was why the natural course of life was much longer than her twenty-one years. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how much stronger and better she could still one day become. Because for the first time in her life, she was safe. She was wanted. Most important of all, she was loved.