Touché.
He picked up the sketch again and studied it until his smile vanished.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, worried he might not like her style.
“You stole something from me.”
“No.” She clamped a hand over her chest. “I didn’t touch anything.”
He chuckled again. “I mean with this drawing. You took a moment from me and captured it on the page. A little piece of my soul.”
“Oh.” She’d never thought about it. He was right. She’d caught his image without asking him first. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t mean it as a reproach.” He smiled at the sketch again. “You’re talented.”
Another compliment. Pity she didn’t know what to do with it.
He lowered the sketch. “Did you attend the academy?”
After all those years, the answer to that question still stung. “No. Your brother was kind enough to intercede for me with the director, but my hand took a long time to recover.” She stretched out her fingers. “Even now, my fingers are stiff and don’t follow my orders. Then your brother left…”
“I see.” A shadow crossed his face. “I’m sorry. Didn’t you receive your allowance?”
“Lord Quentin didn’t think I needed it, and I agreed,” she hurried to add when he opened his mouth. “My hand was useless. What was the point of taking his money?”
“The allowance was established by my brother.” He scowled. “Quentin should have honoured it.”
She should change the subject lest he become angry. “On top of that, something rather peculiar happened to Mrs. Blanchet. One of her most appreciated paintings,The Lady of the Lake, was stolen from her London’s townhouse. She organised a dinner party, and one of her guests somehow sneaked the precious painting out. Gosh, she was furious. She couldn’t believe one of her guests had dared to steal from her. I didn’t feel it was right to approach her and ask her for help after the incident. To this day, no one knows whereThe Lady of the Lakeis. It was an unfortunate circumstance even for me, indirectly. It’s life.” She shrugged.
He kept frowning.
Bother, she’d made him sad again. “I can’t give you the piece of your soul back, but is there something I can do to make amends for my pilfering?”
A hint of a smile touched his lips. “There’s something.”
“Ask away.”
“May I hold your hand?” He was so honest she was always surprised by his direct manners.
“Please.” Why not? She’d seen him nearly naked and stolen a piece of his soul. Giving him her hand to hold was a small price to pay. In fact, it was no sacrifice at all.
He put aside the sketchbook and took her hand gently. He drew in a breath as he stared at her small hand in his with awe. Her skin tingled when he traced her knuckles with a gentle finger.
“So delicate. Soft. I know it sounds odd, but holding your hand gives me a sense of peace.”
She swallowed. “Not odd at all.”
He scowled at the scar. “This is my fault,” he said in a low voice. “I remember that night. I thought about it many times. I ruined your career, your life, and your dream.”
“No, it’s the past. It doesn’t matter.” She shivered as a phantom pain went through her.
He touched the curve of the scar, his brow furrowing. “Climbing to your window was my first mistake. I shouldn’t have taken that plant. I shouldn’t have left. My brother and my mother would be alive if I’d stayed.”
A riot of sensations burst within her. His touch was pleasant, but his words stirred the ugly beast of sorrow in her chest. “I encouraged you to go.”
“I wanted to.” He inhaled a shaky breath, stroking the scar. “If I hadn’t been so stupidly obsessed with my travel, my family would be alive today, and you’d be a famous painter.”
“Exploring was your dream.” She closed her other hand over his, feeling him shake. “You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. Don’t torture yourself with what could have been. I did that, and it didn’t make me feel any better.”
