Page 19 of Romancing the Artist

“To all of us, silly.” Patience shook her head at him, appearing rather disappointed. “Do you never listen at dinner? When Grace and her husband ate with us a fortnight ago, she told us that Lord Neil Duncan’s stepdaughter was coming to pay a visit to the countess.”

Charity gave him a reproving glare, too. “You really ought to listen to news about our neighbors, Edward. It will keep you from making ridiculous mistakes.”

He shook his head. “A disgraced lord’s stepdaughter doesn’t qualify as a neighbor,” he muttered, distracted by the large yellow bonnet coming his way—one resting atop a head of blonde ringlets.

“Lady Inglewood is a neighbor, and therefore my advice stands,” Charity said with a firm nod of her head. Then she said louder, and more cheerfully, “Mr. and Mrs. Kimball, we are delighted you could come. And Miss Kimball, welcome.”

Edward kept his countenance friendly as Mariah curtsied to him and his sister. “Mr. Everly,” she greeted him, nothing suggestive in tone or expression. “Good afternoon.”

How had a childhood friendship created such an awkward situation for him? And why had he agreed to keep her secret? “Miss Kimball. So good to have you here.”

His mother emerged from the tent, both arms extended in welcome to the Kimballs. “Oh, I am so glad all of you are here. This is wonderful. You know, children, I think most of our guests have arrived. You are excused to go and enjoy yourselves. I will be certain to welcome anyone else.”

The timing his mother executed was something of a marvel. Dismissing her children from their places at that exact moment guaranteed that one of them would take Miss Kimball in hand, at least offering conversation. He looked first to Patience, who sent him a pitying smile before calling to a friend, leaving him behind. Then Edward turned his pleading gaze to Charity. But their mother took her arm before Charity could come to his assistance.

Mr. and Mrs. Kimball had likewise slipped away. Leaving Edward and Miss Mariah Kimball facing one another, standing in the middle of the gathering, within easy view of all the guests. Much like actors on a stage.

She had the decency to wince, and mouth the words, “Sorry, Edward,” to him.

The musicians started playing a lively tune, appropriately chipper, and Edward wished the flautist would swallow his instrument. Or that someone would cause a scene. Because the weight of all his neighbors’ stares rested squarely on him as he offered Miss Kimball his arm.

“Allow me to fetch you something cool to drink, Miss Kimball.” He did not grit his teeth, nor stumble over the words.

Instead, he searched for any possible escape. For both of them.

She could not reveal that her heart belonged to another. Not yet, she had insisted when last he asked it of her. And he would not expose her secret.

“Edward.” Mariah’s voice remained soft as she walked with him to the refreshments. “I have come upon a scheme to relieve us both of my parents’ expectations. Rather, someone else presented a plan to me that I think has merit.”

“I am all ears,” he murmured, stepping beneath the tent that protected food and drink from the sun.

“You have met Miss Clapham?”

He paused, mid-motion, with a ladle in hand to serve punch into a cup. “Yes. Moments before you arrived.” She couldn’t know about his less-than-formal first conversation with the countess’s guest, could she?

Mariah glanced at the opening of the tent, her eyes flickering from those outside the shelter back to him. “We have become fast friends. In fact, I confided our plight to her.”

Plight? He supposed it was that. “You must have been quite taken with her to share your secret.” He handed her the cup of punch, a heady mix of fruit juices and mint. He had no reason to object to Mariah entrusting her secret to others. Though it was somewhat odd.

Then again, Caroline Clapham made a strong first impression on others. He’d been thinking of her ever since their meeting in the woods, hadn’t he?

“She is a kind woman.” Mariah looked down at her cup and turned it about in her hands rather than drink it. Years of friendship gave Edward enough experience for him to recognize that his friend had more to say, but hesitated.

“Mariah,” he said, voice low. “Stop stalling and tell me what it is you wish to tell me.”

She raised her eyes to his with a helpless shrug. “I am not certain you will like what I have to say. You see, Miss Clapham is clever as well as kind. And she came up with a plan to help us.” When he said nothing, merely crossed his arms and waited for the explanation, Mariah began speaking with quiet urgency. “Miss Clapham suggests that you pretend to court her while she is here for the summer. This would be a way for us to avoid any further speculation about an engagement between us without causing any undue harm or blame on either of our parts. My parents’ plans will be quite undone, and your parents will stop pressing you to make an offer for me if you are at the beginning of a courtship with another.”

He stared at her, the hope shining in her eyes urging him to agree to the mad plan without even thinking on it. “A pretend courtship.” Edward turned the idea over in his mind, and his conversation with Grace returned to him. Though his rule-following sister hadn’t stated it outright, if people thought that his affections had been engaged elsewhere, both he and Mariah would benefit.

His parents would be surprised if he turned his attention to Miss Clapham. But could they protest, when they had claimed all they wanted was for him to find someone to wed? And since there was no spoken understanding, no true courtship, no betrothal between Miss Kimball and himself, the Kimball family couldn’t claim he’d ill-used their daughter.

In fact, they might halt their own campaign to marry her off if their chosen bridegroom was no longer available. That could give Miss Kimball the time and opportunity she needed to persuade them to her way of thinking about the man who had captured her heart.

He had to ask at least one question as he led Mariah out into the sunlight again. “What does Miss Clapham gain from helping us?”

“She denied any form of repayment or favor,” Mariah said, turning and pretending to study the orchard. “If there is any chance of us breaking free of our parents’ expectations, I am willing to try anything. Aren’t you, Edward?”

“Yes. I am.” He ought to take time to consider the matter. Weigh and measure possible outcomes to engaging in such a ruse with a woman he’d laid eyes on only twice. And yet…hadn’t he been captivated by Caroline Clapham? Even though he had no desire to tie himself to a wife, he had no objection to enjoying the company of a charming and intelligent woman. “It could work,” he murmured.