Page 26 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

The comment was soft and fleeting, but it still managed to light Sonia’s indignance. She jammed her little hands on her narrow hips. “I know he painted Venus with red hair. I saw it myself!”

Edward rolled his eyes, giving the child a patronizing smile that infuriated Ella as much as it did Sonia. “You? You saw it? In person?”

Ella had to give her credit—when Sonia chose to be patronizing, she gave as good as she got. “Yes. Me. Me. I saw it. In person. At the Uffizi.” She shrugged. “My mother and her friends said it helped inspire their performances. Have you been there?”

Edward’s jaw appeared to vanish as his mouth twisted in consternation. “Not… not in person.”

“Well then, that’s why,” Sonia replied matter-of-factly, losing her condescension, which Ella thought might have made it even worse.

In her experience, sons of dukes didn’t usually appreciate being placated by children.

“You should go,” Sonia continued. “It’s good fun.

Loads to see. Especially for beginners. You’ll learn so much. ”

Poor Edward. Ella covered her grin with her palm. She’d never seen a heart or an ego break but was quite certain both had just happened in front of her.

He sighed, tossing his paintbrush once more to the ground. This time, Ella surmised, he would not be picking it back up. “Beginner, huh?”

Sonia stepped forward, patting him on the arm. He flinched from the touch, but didn’t move away. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day. How long have you been practicing?”

Edward squinted up at the blue sky. “Ah… thirty-five years, give or take a few.”

Ella chortled. Instead of scowling at her outburst, Edward saw the humor in the moment and granted her a half-smile.

Sonia was the only one who didn’t hear the despair in his answer.

If anything, it only made her more optimistic.

“I’m sure many great painters didn’t get started until later in life.

” Her brow scrunched together. “Not Michelangelo, mind you. Did you know he created the statue of David when he was in his twenties? My mother and her friends always loved staring at it, said it was marvelous. I never understood the appeal myself.”

Edward looked at Ella, his eyes impossibly tired. “Please make her stop talking.”

“Yes, right,” Ella replied, taking the girl’s shoulders once more. “Time for us to go back inside and continue our lesson on the Battle of Hastings…”

Sonia allowed Ella to guide her a few steps away, but not before releasing a plaintive whine. “Do we have to? It’s so boring. This is so much better.” She wiggled out of Ella’s hands, marching up to Edward. “Would you teach me?”

The man could have been knocked over with a feather. “Teach you?” Edward scoffed. “Why would you possibly want such a mediocre teacher?”

Oh, but he wasn’t fooling Ella. There was a sprinkle of hope at the end of his question.

“You’re not mediocre,” Sonia argued, “just inexperienced.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” he replied dryly.

The girl went on. “And you can teach me the basics, can’t you? I’ll eventually outgrow you, of course, but you’ll do for now. Don’t you think, Ella?”

Ella had no idea what to think. She’d never seen anyone—man, woman, or child—cut a person to the quick as Sonia had just done. Ella wished her mother had been there to see it. She would have been impressed.

“I… um…” Ella glanced at Edward, hoping he would fill in the rest of her sentence, but he was doing the same to her…

with just enough longing to help her make her decision.

“Yes, yes, I think that would be a sound idea,” she said, punctuating it with a stiff nod.

“All young girls should have a sound understanding of art.”

Sonia clapped as Edward puffed his chest like a bird ready to strut. “Good. We’ll start tomorrow. At this time,” he said. “Do not be late.”

“She won’t be,” Ella answered, feeling like a proud parent. A proud, protective parent. “But we’ll start with the basic things,” she cautioned sternly. “Pretty landscapes, adorable animals. Women wearing clothes…”

Edward’s cheeks became blotchy, his eyes a little shifty. “O-of course,” he stammered, angling away from Ella’s discerning face.

But Ella wasn’t the only one with conditions. Sonia flicked her head toward the house. “And can we make sure your brother isn’t playing this ghastly music during the lessons? I won’t be able to concentrate with his banging on.”

Ella and Edward exchanged matching frowns.

She hadn’t noticed it, but jutting her ear to the house, she managed to pick up the faint sound of piano playing.

Uncle Andrew. The only brother she hadn’t spoken to since she’d been at Sutton Park, besides a polite hello.

He spent most of his time lost in conversations with the duchess.

“That’s not very kind,” Ella began.

Sonia cut her off. “ He’s not being very kind, ruining Beethoven like that.”

Edward chuckled. “My brother is quite proficient.”

Sonia shrugged again. “If you say so.”

Because the girl wasn’t calling his talent into question this time, Edward wasn’t nearly as put out. On the contrary—the man was almost giddy. “What’s he doing wrong?”

Sonia took a moment. She stuck her nose in the air and closed her eyes. Ella did the same, noticing how much clearer the notes came to her. To her mind, Lord Andrew wasn’t proficient; he was remarkable.

But, like with painting, Ella apparently knew nothing about music.

“His rhythm is off,” Sonia replied. There wasn’t one ounce of restraint in her remark.

She was so bloody sure of herself and her knowledge.

Ella wondered if she should have been mortified, if she should have rebuked the girl for behaving in such a manner.

But she couldn’t. Ella liked the girl’s assurance and wanted no part in limiting it.

“He is a little proficient,” Sonia continued, but Ella didn’t believe her. She could sense the girl was attempting to mitigate her criticism for the art teacher’s benefit. “However, he lacks the passion needed for the piece.”

“Passion?” Edward asked.

“Yes, passion. It’s not his fault,” Sonia said. “He’s English, after all. My mother always said that the English lacked the ability for it.” She frowned. “But that never affected me, even though I’m half English.”

Edward eyed her for a long pause. Ella wasn’t sure if he was concentrating on his brother’s music or debating strangling the child.

Finally, he broke. “Can you play that song?”

Sonia nodded at once.

One brow angled above Edward’s glistening eye. “Show me.”