Page 33 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

Eliza closed the door to the atelier gently and made her way to Clara’s chambers. It was high time she brought her friend up to speed on everything that had been happening. Her mind burned with the events of the previous night as she made her way down the carpeted hallway.

She thought of how close she and Tristan had been when they were looking through the ledgers, just how many times their hands had brushed. He was her husband. She shouldn’t be feeling these things for him. And if she was, she shouldn’t be this giddy about these feelings.

But somehow she was. Her brooding husband had somehow awakened feelings she never thought she could have for anyone inside her, and if she was being honest with herself, she never wanted those feelings to die. She stopped by Clara’s door and knocked quickly.

Inside, Clara was at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She looked up at once.

“You look troubled,” Clara said. “What has happened now?”

Eliza sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hands in her lap. “I must tell you everything.”

Clara put the brush down and turned fully to face her. “What is going on, Eliza?”

Eliza hesitated for a moment, trying to find the words. “We searched through the west wing archives last night. Tristan showed me ledgers, maps, and documents that go back centuries. Marcus is behind all of it. The Berkeley Project is not what it seems, and I thought you should know especially—”

“Wait,” Clara raised her hand, freezing the words in Eliza’s mouth. “What in God’s name is the Berkeley Project?”

Eliza stared at her friend and swallowed. “You have no idea what has been going on, do you?”

“And whose fault is that?” Clara asked, glaring at her.

Eliza exhaled, then explained everything to Clara. How Marcus had approached Tristan, asking him to invest, how Tristan had found out the project was not all it was built out to be, and how Marcus might just rip Evermere from their hands if they do not do anything about it.

Clara frowned after the last word slipped out of Eliza’s mouth. “This has been happening, and you never told me?”

“I apologize.” Eliza’s voice tightened. “We found records and donations coming from outside men, filtered through lawyers. It is all meant to make it look legitimate, and Marcus is at the center of it.”

“And of course, who better to manipulate the law than a former lawyer?” Clara asked. “And Lord Vale? What does he mean to do?”

“He wants to fight it,” Eliza said. “And I intend to be there alongside him.”

Clara tilted her head. “I would expect nothing else from a cold earl.”

Eliza looked down at her hands, her chest tightening. “No. He is not cold. I see that now. He cares for this place, Clara. For its people. He is more honorable than I ever gave him credit for.”

Clara studied her quietly. Then she asked, “And I suppose you know all of this because you just like to know things about people? You have no ulterior motive?”

Eliza swallowed hard. “I—” She forced herself to continue. “I suppose I have grown used to him. I no longer feel like we are strangers in this marriage. There is a connection between us, and I cannot deny it.”

Clara gave a small smile. “Eliza, are you telling me you are falling for your husband?”

Eliza’s cheeks warmed. “Does it matter if Marcus has trapped us both in his plans? How can Tristan trust me when it was Marcus who forced this marriage upon us in the first place?”

Clara leaned forward. “Does Tristan know that yet?”

“Yes.” Eliza’s voice lowered. “I told him, and he is not worried, but what if he changes his mind tomorrow?”

“Do you love him?” Clara asked plainly.

Eliza looked away, heart racing. “Yes.”

“Then he will not change his mind,” Clara said firmly.

Eliza nodded slowly, though the weight of it all pressed heavily on her. Before she could speak again, a knock came at the door. Both women turned at once, and Mr. Hale stepped in, bowing slightly.

“Lady Vale.” His eyes flicked toward Clara, and he gave another bow. “Lady Clara.”

Clara cleared her throat quickly. “Mr. Hale.”

Eliza’s gaze darted between them. She caught it…the brief pause in Clara’s voice, the slow red rising in her cheeks. Eliza’s lips parted, but she stayed silent.

Mr. Hale spoke again. “Lord Vale requests your presence in his study, my lady.”

Eliza nodded. “Tell him I will be there shortly.”

Hale bowed once more. “Very well.” His eyes lingered for the briefest moment on Clara. “Lady Clara.”

Then he turned and left.

As soon as the door shut, Eliza turned back to Clara. “Are you—”

“I cannot take whatever you are about to say,” Clara cut in, lifting a hand.

Eliza raised both hands in mock surrender. “Very well.” She smiled faintly. “It seems a great deal can change in two days.”

Clara shrugged, though her lips twitched. “Yesterday afternoon, after Aunt Evelyn abandoned me for the news of her husband’s arrival, Mr. Hale offered to continue the garden walk with me.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Without a chaperone?”

Clara gave her a sharp glare. “It was only a walk. And I am twenty-six, Eliza. I hardly think walking with a valet is scandalous.”

Eliza pressed her lips together, suppressing a grin. “I did not say it was scandalous.”

“Then what are you implying?” Clara asked.

“Nothing,” Eliza said innocently. “Not a thing.”

Clara huffed. “It is written all over your face.”

Instead of answering, Eliza changed the subject abruptly. “I was thinking we might take a walk to the park later. It has been some time since we last did that.”

Clara blinked, caught off guard. “Yes, please.”

“When I go to see Tristan, I could ask if his valet would like to join us,” Eliza teased, her eyes bright.

Clara froze, then shot her a cold glare. “You would not dare.”

Eliza tilted her head, lips curling in mischief. “Would I not?”

“Eliza,” Clara warned.

“Very well,” Eliza said, laughing as she rose from the bed. “I shall behave.”

Clara crossed her arms but could not hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “You are insufferable.”

“Perhaps,” Eliza said, walking toward the door. “But later we shall walk, and you may thank me for my kindness then.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Do I need to change first?”

Eliza paused at the door, narrowing her eyes. “Is there someone you wish to impress?”

Clara gasped. “No, of course not.”

“Then what you are wearing will do fine,” Eliza said.

Clara muttered, “You are something else.”

Eliza smiled in response and opened the door.