Page 104 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

Now it was only Eliza, Tristan, the duke, and Miss Flick Ashcombe, who still stood by the door, trembling.

Eliza stepped closer to the woman. Her voice came out calm, but she could almost hear her blood rushing in her ears.

“Miss Ashcombe, please. Sit down. No one here will harm you.”

The hesitation appeared on Flick’s face again, and Tristan took over. “You came because you have something to say. You are safe.”

The woman’s eyes flicked to him, wide and searching. “Safe?”

“Yes,” Eliza added, her tone softening a hint. “Safe.”

Miss Flick’s breath hitched. She stood frozen for a long moment, then edged forward and lowered herself into a chair near the door. She clutched her satchel still, like it was some kind of weapon that protected her.

Eliza watched Tristan move to his grandfather as well and take a seat beside him. His gaze was unreadable, but Eliza knew there was only one thing on his mind at that point: How to get rid of Marcus once and for all. She shared exactly the same sentiment.

“So,” the duke resumed, his voice coming across the drawing room with nothing but utter ease. “Why have you come to our manor today, Miss Ashcombe?”

A wave of silence settled into the drawing room and, for a moment, Eliza wondered if she had been the only one who heard the duke in the first place.

At last, Miss Flick spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I should not have come. I thought I could keep silent, but … Marcus …” She trailed off, pressing her hand to her mouth.

Eliza leaned forward. “He cannot reach you here, Miss Ashcombe. You can say it.”

Tears slipped down Miss Flick’s cheeks. “I have recently found out rather forcefully that Marcus is not the man I thought he was.”

“Oh, well. You and me both,” Eliza added, her voice intended to soothe the frail woman, whose eyes continued to dart toward the door like Marcus would walk in any moment soon.

“I believed him once,” Flick continued. “I believed his promises. He told me I would be part of something greater, that I was helping to build futures. But it was all lies. Lies wrapped in charm.”

Eliza scoffed at just how true the statement was.

Lies wrapped in charm.

There was no more apt description for her brother.

Flick’s words broke, and she shook her head. “I have wronged you, Lady Vale. More than you know. I stood as the one who arranged your marriage. I told myself it was my duty. That I was serving families, serving tradition. But in truth … I was servinghim.”

Eliza’s stomach twisted. The quiet confirmation, spoken aloud, seemed to ring through the room. She knew this already but why did it still hurt to hear out loud? She said nothing this time around. Flick had to finish her confession and she couldn’t let anything get in the way of that, not even herself.

Flick wiped at her eyes. “He spoke sweetly. He said I would be remembered. He said no one else understood his vision. And I … I listened. I agreed. I told myself it was proper. That it was fate. But I see now it was nothing but his game.”

She looked at Eliza with nothing but raw sorrow. “I am sorry. For every tear you shed, for every hour you felt trapped in this marriage. I could never finish apologizing for what I have put you through. But you must understand that I never wished you any harm, even though it came anyway.”

The duke’s voice cut through the silence one more time, steady and grave. “Why now? Why confess this now?”

Miss Flick’s fingers twisted against her satchel. “Because I cannot bear it any longer. He used me and then cast me aside. I have tried to make things right with him but now he has turned to threats. He said if I spoke of his dealings, I would regret it. But I already regret everything ….”

Her voice faltered and she broke into sobs.

Eliza rose and crossed the space between them. She knelt lightly beside Flick’s chair, her hand hovering before resting gently on the woman’s trembling arm.

“You are here now. You are speaking. That is what matters.”

Miss Flick stared at her through tears. “You are kinder than I deserve.”

Eliza shook her head. “No. I only know what it is to feel trapped. You are not alone in that.”

Behind her, she felt Tristan watching, his silence heavy but not cold. She did not turn.