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“You know I much prefer to do it on my own,” Julia reminded her, continuing to smile. “Less hassle that way. But I thank you for the offer.”
“Yes, well, I suppose it is done now.” Chelsea stated, and before Julia could say another word, she had slipped her arm through hers the moment that her gloves, coat, and hat were in the perfect place. “Do not wait up for us. I fear we shall be gone all night!”
Even as she was whisked away by her best friend, Julia assured the maid over her shoulder, “I shall not be any later home than usual.”
It was at the Academy that Julia came to realise she might have been wrong to tell the maid such a thing. The paintings were absolutely breathtaking, even to Julia, who was so often underwhelmed by such things as paintings, feeling that many an artist failed to capture emotions as writers so often did in their works.
And there was one painting in particular that caught the eye of both women. For a while Julia stood gazing at the portrait of a beautiful woman sitting beside a frozen lake, surrounded by snow and dead trees. Everything around her was lifeless and wintery save for the girl herself, whose hair shone like spun gold and whose lips were as crimson as roses. It wasn’t long before Julia felt the need to comment.
“Chelsea, if I did not know better, I might guess that you were somehow the inspiration for this painting. Is there something that you wish to tell me?”
“Oh, Julia, for once I wish that I had been keeping a secret from you,” Chelsea responded. She moved closer and wrapped her arm through Julia’s, holding onto her tightly as though it was all she could do to stop her excitement from spinning her out of control.
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful if I were the artist’s muse? Perhaps then I might be wondrous enough to be able to meet him, for he is quite clearly a genius.”
The awe in her tone and the love-struck glaze to her eyes was enough to tell Julia that poor Mr. Tatford might well have a problem if Chelsea were ever to meet the artist who had so delicately painted the likeness of her.
“And you’re certain that you have never met him?” Julia probed, unable to stop from looking more closely at the woman in the painting. She was sure that if she looked hard enough, she was able to see even the small gathering of freckles hidden just beneath a fine layer of powder that Chelsea herself wore so delicately upon her own face.
“Oh, no, of course not,” Chelsea insisted, squeezing Julia’s arm as though the very idea made her so excited that she might burst right out of her skin. “I would be elated to do so, but alas I must settle for buying his paintings instead. This one I must have.”
With that determination, Chelsea released Julia’s arm and grabbed her reticule from where it had been hanging at her wrist, clearly intending to go make the purchase right there and then. She was only stopped by the clearing of a throat behind them that caused both the women to turn automatically.
“Jonathan!” Chelsea exclaimed the moment that she saw him and Julia was most relieved to find that seeing the solid gentleman before her was far more exciting than the thought of purchasing a painting on a wall.I can still hope then that she has truly found love,Julia thought, turning her gaze upon her own male companion even as Lord Sutthers stepped up in front of her and bowed his usual formal greeting.
It was only the voice of someone sounding next to her that distracted her from their arrival. "Excuse me, miss, might I trouble you to move aside?"
Julia turned her attention to the man in a dark blue uniform, almost like a butler's attire, and guessed that he had to have been one of the academy's men. "Oh, yes, I apologise if I am in the way," Julia responded, automatically moving out of the way, only to find herself practically stepping into the arms of Lord Sutthers.
Her attention was once more returned to him, her gaze turning up to meet his, only to find he was smiling down at her. His arm wrapped protectively around her waist and guided her the rest of the way out of the path of the academy assistant.
Just meeting his gaze, Julia's breath caught in her throat and she wondered whether she would ever grow used to seeing those eyes or the way they sparked with emotion, even when he was so clearly trying to remain unreadable.
She wondered whether others could read his gaze quite as easily as she thought she could. She thought not from all the rumours she had heard of the brothers over the years, how they were heartless and troublesome foreigners. Some might even believe them to be monsters or the devil's spawn from the way the old noblemen went on. Julia had to bite back laughter at the absurdity of all she had heard.
"Are you well, miss?" Lord Sutthers asked and Julia felt her cheeks growing hotter with every moment she spent with him. More than that, her entire body was growing warm and all of it was pooling in a tingling heat between her thighs. It was a sensation she had rarely experienced before, but had become an almost permanent state whenever she was face-to-face with the earl.
"I am. Thank you, my lord. And you?" she asked, trying to compose herself, moving away slightly with the knowledge that if she remained too close, she might do something she would regret. With so many people around enjoying the exhibition and Chelsea's parents watching them from afar, she knew it would be far too dangerous.
"I am well, miss."
Even though she had stepped away, she was barely able to shift her focus from him when she heard Chelsea exclaim, "You there, what are you doing? Where are you taking that?"
Julia's heart clenched the moment she turned around to see that the young and plain academy assistant had stepped up to her favourite painting and was busy removing it from the wall where they had been admiring it.
"You can't do that!" Chelsea protested when the assistant didn't immediately explain. "The exhibition isn't over yet."
Once the assistant had removed the painting from the wall, he turned to Chelsea with an apologetic look and bowed his head before explaining, "Forgive me, miss, but we have orders to remove paintings as soon as they are sold so as not to cause any confusion."
"But how… how can that be?" Chelsea gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth and her eyes widening in a look of absolute horror. Mr. Tatford stepped closer to her and placed a hand upon the small of her back as if to comfort her, but for once Chelsea appeared not to feel his touch. Not for the first time, Julia wondered whether her friend's mild obsession with her mysterious artist might just overwhelm any chance she had of any real relationship.
"Who could possibly have brought it?" Chelsea demanded, but the assistant, looking mildly uncomfortable, was already carrying the painting away. Sensing the desperation in her friend, Julia left the earl's side and moved opposite his brother to stand beside Chelsea. Gripping hold of her hand, she cupped it in both of hers and thought of something that she might be able to say.
"Your father has been watching us closely," Julia said, glancing over her shoulder to Mr. Walker and his wife, who were standing at the edge of the room. Both of them smiled at her when she met their gaze, proving her point. "Perhaps he saw how we were lingering here and, with his knowledge of your love for the artist's previous paintings, decided to purchase it for you?"
The moment she saw the flare of hope in her friend's eyes, she could only pray that she was right. With Christmas coming up, it wasn't exactly a far stretch to imagine that a wealthy businessman like Mr. Walker would purchase such a thing for his daughter.
"Perhaps I shall go and ask him," Chelsea said, though it was clear from her tone that it was merely a thought said aloud as she slipped her hand from Julia's and began to turn toward her parents.
