In Pursuit of the Painter by Ashtyn Newbold

Chapter Eight

Hot tears rolled down Patience’s face as she ran out into the street. Her vision flashed in white as she found her way behind an alley. Pressing her back against the neighboring establishment, she hid her face in her hands. Not only was she humiliated by the fact that Mr. Cavinder had seen her scars, but she was even more humiliated by the way she had reacted.

Her emotions had taken hold of her in a way they never had before. She had been cruel and unkind when she saw that the portrait was not what she had expected. His work had been extraordinary, yet she had berated him for all the flaws of the piece that had nothing to do with the actual likeness. Fear had struck her heart like an arrow at full speed. Not only was the portrait too small to hang in the gallery, but it was surely more beautiful than she was.

Her mind replayed the moment she had fallen and her sleeve had torn. She squeezed her eyes closed. Mr. Cavinder had stared at her arm for several seconds. He had stared, just as Mama had said people would. The instruction Mama had given her over the years since the incident that caused the burns had been to keep them hidden. Keep them covered. No one will wish to be near you if they see them. No one will respect you. No one could love you. It is better that you wear long sleeves. Longer gloves.

Wear your blue pelisse to the cricket match.

Patience had done all she could to obey. No one had seen her scars in the ten years since they had come to exist. Not until today.

And she would have preferred that anyone see them but Mr. Cavinder. Her heart stung and her cheeks burned. Her veins still ran hot with anger. Mr. Cavinder had been so defensive and impertinent. She narrowed her eyes as she looked up at the rain spiraling from the sky. As much as she wished she could blame him, she couldn’t. She could only blame herself.

It was better that Mr. Cavinder think badly of her, even if she could hardly bear the thought. At least she wouldn’t wonder if he had any sort of attachment to her, especially now that he had also seen her scars. She wouldn’t fill her mind during idle hours of his handsome dark eyes and wide smile. It had been a silly infatuation. No, she wouldn’t even call it that. She had enjoyed his company. The time she had spent in his studio had been freeing, safe, and comfortable, even despite the fact that she had to hold a pose for hours at a time. It was strange, but she would miss it.

Mr. Cavinder had been a distraction she did not need. All her attention needed to be on Lord Clitheroe, nothing else.

No oneelse.

Lord Clitheroe invited Patience’s family to dinner the following week, and he was just as attentive as he had been before. His attentiveness did not end with Patience, however. He seemed to be just as captivated with Hattie—if not even more so. Patience tried to ignore the growing dread in her stomach, but it persisted throughout the meal.

When the men joined the women in the drawing room, Lord Clitheroe came to sit beside Patience. She searched for something to say to fill the silence. “I trust you have had an enjoyable week?” she asked.

“Not as enjoyable as it might have been, had I seen you at least once.” He flashed a flirtatious smile.

Patience glanced at Mama, who was not being discreet about her eavesdropping. She returned her attention to Lord Clitheroe, struggling to find something flirtatious to say in return. “I—would agree, my lord.” She cringed at the lack of wit she had when under pressure. If only she had several minutes to think of a reply; she was certain she could have come up with something genius.

“What has been the most enjoyable part of your week?” Lord Clitheroe asked.

Patience tried to lean closer, but the sight of the marquess’s half-closed eyes was far too unsettling. She remained stiff. “Well—I have been helping my sister prepare for her wedding. She will be married in a fortnight.”

The marquess’s gaze shifted to Hattie, a distant look in his gaze. He pressed his lips together, peeling his gaze away from Hattie with great effort, before it settled on Patience again. “What an excellent wedding it will be. You must be very happy for your sister.”

“Indeed.” Patience swallowed, interlocking her fingers on her lap.

“Is your portrait complete? I have been most eager to see it.”

The question made Patience’s stomach drop. She had been trying very hard not to think of Mr. Cavinder and the entire portrait ordeal. “No…I’m afraid I am no longer having my portrait painted.”

“Why ever not?” The marquess’s fluffy hair flopped to one side as he observed her with surprise.

“He painted the wrong size. I did not wish to invest more time in having it corrected.” Shame climbed her cheeks as she thought again of her behavior the week before.

“Oh, dear.” Lord Clitheroe clucked his tongue and crossed one ankle over his knee. “I will cancel my appointment with him promptly then. Such a mistake cannot be excusable.”

Patience shook her head. “That is not necessary, my lord. You might not experience the same difficulties as I did.”

He scoffed. “I will not trust such a new painter if he is not highly recommended by an acquaintance of mine. Seeing as you did not receive the product you wished for, I don’t see any reason that I should keep my appointment with him.”

It would not be wise to argue with the marquess, so she simply nodded in agreement, throwing a coy smile into the gesture. “You are very wise, my lord.”

He gave a smug smile, his eye twitching in a wink. “I am indeed. Although my wisdom can often betray me.”

She frowned. “How so?”

“It was my wisdom which led me to accept an invitation from an old friend who is currently in India. I will be traveling there next week for business matters which I will not bore you with. It pains me to inform you that I will not return to England for nine months.” He sighed. “The most central source of my regret, Miss Hansford, is that I will not be near you and your family for such a long period of time.”

Patience’s heart pounded in her throat. Nine months? Mama would be horribly disappointed to hear that. Patience hadn’t even known Lord Clitheroe for nine months, so he would easily forget her by the time he returned to England. All that she had dared to hope for came crashing down around her. “Well, my lord…we expect you to call upon us the moment you return.”

“You have my word.” He grinned, leaning his elbows on his knees. Patience followed his gaze, not surprised to find it lingering on Hattie once again.

Patience’s chest tightened, but she reminded herself that it was she who he had chosen to sit beside. But how could she spend the next nine months waiting for Lord Clitheroe’s return? There was no understanding between them. It now made sense that he hadn’t tried to court her. If he was leaving so soon, it would have been inconsiderate to have done so. She hoped that explanation would appease Mama.

When the evening drew to a close and Patience and her family departed in their coach, Lord Clitheroe whispered to Patience in passing. “Farewell, Miss Patience. Until we meet again.”

“Farewell, my lord.” She cast him a demure grin, one that had taken a great deal of practice.

The smile Hattie gave him as she passed was similar, but with a much more professional execution.

As expected, Mama was furious to hear of Lord Clitheroe’s sudden departure. As soon as they were within the carriage and rolling away from the marquess’s estate, Mama crossed her arms with a huff, turning to face Papa. “How dare Lord Clitheroe leave us?”

“The man can do as he wishes,” Papa muttered, glancing at his reflection in the carriage window. He combed his fingers over his thick side whiskers. “He would not stay in England only for Patience.” He chuckled. “No indeed.”

Patience looked out the window, tightening her jaw. When he returned, she would prove to them all that he did want to court her. She had nine months to prepare, and when Lord Clitheroe saw her again, he would be unable to resist her. He would come begging for her hand.

She banished her doubt and fear. It had never given her anything. No matter what, she would prove her family wrong. She would finally be what they had always wished for her to be. She closed her eyes, schooling her heart into submission. No matter what anyone said, she would not allow it to affect her. It didn’t matter if her family didn’t believe in her. They never had, after all. She needed only to believe in herself.

In nine months, Lord Clitheroe would return, and in ten months, she was determined to be engaged to him.