The moment felt so loaded with possibility. Hannah’s heart hammered at the inappropriateness of it – alone, in the middle of the night, in their bedclothes, in the library. Whatever would the Dowager Duchess say if she walked in?
Hannah wondered if she should apologise and exit the library – whether she was intruding upon Caleb’s private reading time. For all she knew, perhaps it was habitual for him to frequent the library late at night.
‘Won’t you join me?’ Caleb broke the silence, moving up on the sofa and picking up the book to make space for her.
Hannah bowed her head. ‘Thank you…’ and made her way across the room, sitting cautiously next to him.
‘I couldn’t sleep…’ Hannah confessed, playing with the skirts of her nightgown.
‘We encountered the same obstacle,’ Caleb acquiesced.
‘What are you reading?’ Hannah leaned to look at his book and Caleb tilted it to show her the cover.
Hannah read aloud; ‘Elements of Agricultural Chemistry by Sir Humphry Davy.’
Caleb looked to her for her reaction, expecting her to turn up her nose.
‘Is it interesting?’ Hannah asked, keenly.
‘It is quite insightful,’ Caleb concluded.
‘There are so many books…’ Hannah looked up and around her, like an awestruck child.
‘My father was a great collector and an avid reader. I inherited the library from him, but have also continued to populate the shelves with newer tomes as books I am interested in are released…’
‘I love it here,’ Hannah smiled, satisfied.
‘What is it you like to read?’ Caleb returned the interest.
‘I am fond of the poetry of Keats, and obviously you are already aware of my love of Art and so I enjoy books on the topic, also…’
‘Yes, thisArt…’ Caleb paused and Hannah’s heart beat so fast. She feared he was going to announce the abolishment of her Art Studio or declare that creating Art was not appropriate for a Duchess.
‘I am interested,’ he continued, ‘in how your passion for Art came about?’
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief and her eyes wandered off into the distance as she remembered.
‘I suppose I was a very young child when my governess set me up with some paints to make pictures with. Mother says from that day on I no longer wanted to play with my toys, potter in the garden, bake cakes, dance or learn to sew. I only ever wanted to paint!’
‘I hear rumour that you are very talented.’ Caleb stated.
Hannah felt a blush burn her cheeks. It was not a question and so she did not respond.
‘Are the rumours true?’
Hannah turned her whole body toward him and authentically postured her predicament.
‘I love to paint – it is my passion and I would spend every minute creating art if my lifestyle permitted it. Friends declare I am skilled, but oftentimes friends express sentiments out of kindness.’
‘Doyoubelieve your work is impressive?’ Caleb asked her and she could tell by the intensity of his eyes that he wanted to know truly.
Hannah dropped her eyes to her lap.
‘I believe so,’ she squeaked – it felt so unnatural to her to be in any way conceited, but his face requested honesty and so that is what she delivered.
‘Yet you seem sad about it,’ Caleb queried.
‘My mother always reprimanded me for wasting time on Art. And I believe your mother would agree with her – she does not consider my expression of creativity to be fitting for a Duchess,’ Hannah choked the last words, feeling that Caleb must be aware of his mother’s cruel castigation.
