Page 57 of Real Earls Break the Rules

“It’s true.” Weston’s eyes were warm and earnest.

Here was a man who would make a good husband. Eliza would be thrilled. If only Amelia felt the same pulse pounding awareness of him that she felt around Brandon.

Voices sounded beyond the rose bushes, then Brandon and Huntingdon appeared, each with a gun slung over his shoulder, on their way to do some hunting. Brandon stopped short at the sight of Weston leaning close to Amelia. His eyes narrowed, and a quick shadow of anger crossed his face.

Goodness. He looked primitive and very male. He couldn’t possibly be jealous, could he?

Lady Minerva hopped at once to her feet and waved. “Lord Vale! Come see my art and give me your opinion. Tell me, do I have talent?”

Brandon’s head snapped up, and his lips thinned in annoyance. After a nudge from Huntingdon, Brandon walked over and glanced at Minerva’s easel. His face screwed into a perplexed expression.

“It’s the sky,” Minerva rushed to offer.

Brandon blinked. “It’s nice.”

“All is to our teacher’s credit,” Weston called out. “She’s capable and gifted. Under her tutelage, I’m immensely enjoying her lessons.”

Brandon swung around to give Weston a hostile glare. He was jealous.

A thrill of satisfaction coursed through Amelia. How could she be enjoying his medieval reaction? What did that say about her?

Brandon met her gaze across the row of easels. “I’d like to see the instructor’s artwork. Will you show me, Miss Somerton?”

Amelia arched an eyebrow. He must know her canvas was in the front of the group for demonstration. He could see it for himself. He certainly didn’t need for her to show him anything.

But the stubborn man placed his hands behind his back and waited.

Amelia marched to the front of the group, and he followed. “If you are so interested in painting, my lord, you could have joined our lessons,” she said loud enough for the group to hear.

He leaned down to supposedly study her canvas. She wasn’t fooled. He knew exactly how she could paint. The two pieces of artwork in his private study were good examples.

“I admit to being interested in lessons from you, but of a different nature,” he said close to her ear.

He was incorrigible. Her skin heated, and she struggled to breathe.

“We are being watched,” she whispered in alarm.

“I can’t help myself.”

She was so wrapped up in him that she was slow to hear additional voices from beyond the twin gazebos. Too late, the duchess and dowager appeared from around the building. The women stopped short as they took in the several would-be painters arrayed amidst their easels, brushes, jars of water, and paints. But it was the duchess’s attention that concerned Amelia. Her gaze traveled from Amelia to Brandon then back to Amelia. Alarm raced down Amelia’s spine, and she had the distinct impression they were somehow caught.

The dowager must have noticed, too. She blinked rapidly and hurried to clap her hands. “We have an exciting announcement. Her Grace and I have decided to have a ball to celebrate your last evening here. We only have a few days to prepare and the ladies are needed to help select the theme.”

The young ladies squealed in excitement.

“A ball at Rosehill!” Helen and Caroline called out simultaneously.

“Mother, what shall I wear?” Minerva called out.

“What wonderful news,” Amelia said. “Let’s continue our lessons another time.”

The tinkling of brushes dropping into water-filled glass jars sounded as the ladies rushed to join the dowager.

As Amelia grasped her skirts and hurried to join the women, she could almost feel the duchess’s eyes boring into her back.

…

Huntingdon shot Brandon a dark glare. “What’s gotten into your head?”