Her question died on her tongue as Fern gripped her hand and motioned to Alex to lead the way. He sighed with resignation but led the charge, parting the crowd so the ladies behind him could pass unencumbered. The impromptu parade ended at the back of the kitchen, where Alex thumped the door.
Ellie did not have time to think before Alex pushed it open. Henry did not look up from his place behind a massive canvas, only lifting a hand in a half-hearted greeting. He had rolled his shirtsleeves up to his forearms and paint—streaks and splatters of burgundy, white, pink, and blue—dotted his skin. His hair had grown past his ears and collar, and several days of beard growth covered his chin. The last time she had seen him he had been wasting away, but this Henry looked solid, stable and strong. His brow pleated and he wrinkled his nose as he dabbed at the canvas.
He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.
“Henry,” she breathed, unsure if he even heard her.
Clearly he did, because his gaze passed Fern’s and Alex’s and found her. He blinked several times, as though he could not make sense of her presence there, the edges of his lips pulling into a hesitant smile. “You’re here,” he whispered.
“I told you she would be here,” Fern said, bouncing on her toes. Alex shushed her, but was no less giddy.
“We should go.” Alex took Fern’s hand and turning to Ellie. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ashby.”
“Ellie,” she said. “Please call me Ellie.”
Alex grinned, eyes sparkling. “Ellie. I hope to see you again soon.”
Without warning, Fern threw herself forward, wrapping Ellie in an awkward hug. “Be kind to him,” she whispered in Ellie’s ear. “He’s the best friend Alex has ever known.”
Ellie gulped and bit her lip. “The best I’ve ever known, too.”
Fern pulled away, then slipped her arm into her husband’s elbow. “Do you think we can find a tea shop open at this hour?” she asked as they crossed the kitchen. “I’m desperate for some iced cakes.”
Ellie turned back to Henry, her pulse fluttering wildly. How had she gone all this time without seeing him? It felt as though her desiccated heart was suddenly inundated with the freshest water, soaking in everything and expanding painfully. Her mouth worked to find words, anything to capture what was happening in her mind and heart.
Stepping around the side of the canvas, he rubbed the back of his neck and winced, a sheepish smile on his face. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“I promised.” Her body ached to be close to him, to return to his arms and cloak herself in his love.
“Well, that was before…”
Ellie bit her lower lip. “A promise is just that, Henry. I know how much this exhibition means to you.”
She expected him to shrug and brush off her comment, to joke about the lack of effort or needing something to do between house parties.
But he squared his shoulders and lifted his chest, the embodiment of pride. “It does, El. I’m amazed I pulled this off, honestly.”
Ellie moved to him then, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, burying her face in his neck. He was so warm, so comfortable, sorightshe nearly wept. “I’m so proud,” she repeated.
“I’m proud of myself.” He pulled back and removed himself from her embrace. She felt a bolt of panic at his distance, but his eyes were bright and a familiar smile danced on his lips. “What did you think?”
English felt like an extremely inadequate language. “I didn’t know you could paint like that,” she said, then averted her gaze. “I also didn’t realize… I would be in them.”
When she met his eyes again, she noticed the pink high on his cheeks. “I hope you’re not angry. I was so careful to conceal you—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “You did. I’m simply surprised I would be your inspiration.”
Henry stepped forward again, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Our time together in Italy was the first time I experienced true inspiration in years. I couldn’t rest until I captured it, saved it for the ages.” His brows furrowed. “But I’m not selling any of it, El. None of this will be seen again after tonight, nor will anyone else see the rest.”
Ellie’s lips parted. “The rest? Is there more?”
Now he laughed as he stepped away. “We made a lot of memories, but those are private. I couldn’t convey everything I wanted without showing your face, so some are more identifiable, and I would never expose you that way.” He swallowed hard. “But I couldn’t just forget.”
“Henry,” she whispered, her voice failing. Everything was failing, her resolve, her heart, her knees. She wanted to fall into him, collapse into his embrace and never leave.
“May I show you this one?” He gestured towards the large canvas. “It’s still unfinished… I can’t quite bear to be finished yet, because then I’d have to let it go, and I’m not ready to yet…” He trailed off, his unease palpable.
Ellie nodded as he reached forward, taking her hand and leading her around to the front of the canvas. She gasped at the image captured before her.
