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“You make the Duke sound like some terrible taskmaster, when you know full well we all see you practically as family.”
Now it was Kethnick’s turn to blush, though he did it in his usual refined way, only turning a little pink at the tips of his ears.
Pea looked over at the fourth easel. The canvas was bare, the paints untouched. The Count had been in a meeting since after breakfast, his study door closed, but Pea had slipped a note under it before going to round up the others.
Join us for Thornley’s inaugural watercolour painting class!
Look out of your study window and you will see us.
Beginners welcome.
That means you, Count.
Excuses are not accepted.
Yours,
Pea
X
They had been here for forty minutes, and still he had not come.
Pea sighed and went to observe Rose’s work. The older lady was no beginner, but she admitted to Pea that she hadn’t picked up a brush in years. Pea started to show her a blending technique when a voice as cool and deep as the lake before them said, “So this is what you were getting from the village.”
Pea spun toward him with a grin. “Count! I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come.”
“I’m sure the Lord Speaker doesn’t mind being put on hold for something this important,” the Count replied drily, scanning the scene before him with a raised eyebrow. He met Adam’s eye with amusement and the other man shrugged resignedly.
Pea ignored their martyred exchange and grabbed the Count by his crisp-white shirt sleeve, pulling him over to the waiting easel.
“I just came to look, Pea. I don’t have time to join in.”
Down the line, Kethnick coughed slightly and put down his brush. “His Grace is right, I also have duties to attend to.”
“Wait, no, Kethnick. That’s not what I meant,” the Count said hastily as the old man began to untie the apron he had insisted on wearing. “I’m sure we can all make time for…this.” He frowned at the blank canvas in front of him as though it was something written in a foreign language and started to unbutton his cuffs.
“If you command it, Your Grace,” said Kethnick with a small bow and obediently picked up his paintbrush.
The Count shot Pea a conspiratorial eye roll at his butler’s slavish manner, but she nearly missed it, having to drag her eyes up from the sight of the Count rolling up his shirtsleeves and the thickly muscled forearms he was revealing.
“Um…” she said. “So…” She cleared her throat and gestured to the view before them. “We’re doing landscapes.”
“The lake,” the Count said flatly.
“It’s an ideal focal point,” said Pea. “And we can choose to paint it however we like. We can try to recreate the shapes and colours we see, or we could focus on how it makes us feel.”
“How? I literally have no idea where to start.”
“Start anywhere. Get some paint and put it on your canvas.”
She picked up a brush and gave it to him. His fingers briefly touched hers and her heart skipped. The Count gripped the brush so tightly Pea worried it might break.
“Aren’t we meant to sketch an outline first?”
“Today we’re just going with the flow. Getting used to the paints and the brush, but mainly we’re learning how to see.”
He gave the view before him a sceptical look, brow furrowed. “You do know I’m going to be terrible at this?”
