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“I have enough to cover it,” he muttered. “I think. I’m going to handle this. But I must away, and at once. I am off to fetch my curricle and then I shall kick the dust of Inverley from my heels.” His bloodshot eyes were narrow and determined, his mouth in a harsh line.

“How much?” Caroline asked again.

“You haven’t even packed a bag,” Susan said.

“I am rushing home to pack before I leave.”

“Where will you stay?”

“Mr. Taylor gave me leave to use his rented rooms at the Albany, and he said I could have the use of anything I needed.”

“Oh, Jacob.” Caroline felt weariness settle all the way to her bones.

He glared at her. “This isnothing, Caro! The merest trifle. Everyone understands that a man must sow his wild oats.”

“Why can a man sow his oats, and a woman cannot?” Betsy cried. “Oh, how I wish I could gamble until dawn and drink myself silly!”

“Trust me, you do not,” Jacob snapped. “You would do well to listen to Caroline and cease your nonsense before you get into as much trouble as I have.”

He broke free of Caroline’s grip, and his long stride soon had him out of view as he raced toward home.

They followed more slowly. Betsy and Susan were engrossed in family gossip that for once didn’t center on themselves, whispering to themselves all the way home.

Arabella had told her that she should let her brothers and sisters make their own mistakes. But how could she, when those mistakes became disastrous? Her heart ached as the weight of responsibility pressed down on her. What was the correct course of action? How was she to know how to help her family?

Maybe this would be the last of it. Maybe they all had a hiccup or two that they needed to get through while they grew accustomed to their new life. Maybe Jacob’s problem was the nasty shock that he needed before he learned to settle down. Maybe—just maybe—this was salvageable.

* * *

Arabella pushed the cart that she had borrowed from a neighbor, which carried stools, her supplies, and a wooden sign that she had painted to promote her miniatures. It was far easier than carrying everything between herself and Caroline.

She puzzled over moving the cart into the soft sand, then decided that the best location for her painting would be close to the promenade, which opened onto the beach. She could settle her cart on the grass and work from the sand. There was a better chance of attracting paying clientele from that side of the beach, after all, and if people had already spent an afternoon strolling, then they might wish to sit for a spell and have their painting done before moving on to seek other shoreside pleasures.

Caroline helped unload the cart, and soon they were well established near both the promenade and the food vendors. She seemed quiet.

Arabella was disappointed. She had thought their conversation after the dinner party had been so meaningful. Hadn’t it meant anything to Caroline? Why wasn’t she talking about what was troubling her?

Then she frowned. She too had to share the responsibility in improving their communication. Her tendency was to keep silent, letting an unpleasant situation continue because she didn’t wish to go against the grain.

If she wanted Caroline to confide in her, then she owed it to her to be direct. “Is something troubling you?” she asked, worried that Caroline would keep it from her.

Caroline dug the sign into the sand. “Yes,” she admitted. “It’s about Jacob.” Arabella was alarmed at her somber tone, but Caroline held up a finger. “No, Bell. This moment is not to be overshadowed by Reeve problems. I promise I will tell you every single detail later. But I want today to be about you. This is about your talents and accomplishments. This is a special moment, and I want to make sure that you feel celebrated.”

Oh. Arabella’s heart clutched. This was a gift that she hadn’t anticipated.

“Now we wait,” Arabella declared, trying to feel positive. The memory of last week’s failed portrait session weighed on her mind.Confidence, she reminded herself.

“I arranged reinforcements,” Caroline said, her face brightening as she pointed to Maeve, Grace, and Lady Edith hurrying toward them.

“I do hope we aren’t late,” Grace said, looking at her with a crease in her brow.

Arabella’s heart swelled as she glanced at Caroline. “Late?”

“I thought if you started with a line of people waiting for their portrait to be done, it would attract other people. From far off, they will see that something of interest is going on, and that should draw them close enough to read the sign.”

She was too choked up to speak, but as she gazed at Caroline, she saw by the softening look in her eyes that she knew how much this meant to her.

“I want my miniature done first,” Maeve declared. “May I sit, Arabella?”