Page 34 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

The sun felt fresh against their faces, and Eliza continued to realize, as they walked even further down the path, that it was exactly what she needed. Her eyes shifted to Clara, who seemed to have some nervousness hiding behind her eyes as she looked through the crowd they walked past.

“What is it?” Eliza asked, her voice sharp and her eyes narrowed.

“I do not know,” Clara responded, her voice genuine. “It just feels so strange to be this far from London and somehow still have this many eyes on me.”

Eliza smiled. “I understand completely. Evermere has its own kind of watchful crowd. They may be quieter, perhaps, but the last thing they are is less curious.”

Clara nudged her and laughed. “I am beginning to see that now. And how do you fare, Lady Vale? Are you still nervous every time you must stand in front of them?”

Eliza exhaled, shaking her head. “Less nervous than before. You see, Tristan has a way of steadying me, even when I do not expect it.”

Clara’s eyes lit with interest. “Ah, so he steadies you now? Tell me more.”

Eliza hesitated, her fingers pressing down against her dress as she tried to find a way to express her words. “I cannot explain it properly. I mean, he is stern, but … there is patience in him, too. I find myself speaking more freely than I thought I could.”

Clara nods. “Hmm.”

Eliza looked up at her. “I know that look.”

“Well, if you feel this way toward the Earl, perhaps this is a step toward fondness,” Clara responded. “A dangerous step, nonetheless, but it is one.”

Eliza swallowed, feeling her lips curve into a small smile. “Well, maybe I do not want to think about it yet. Let us talk about you. What exactly is going on with Mr. Hale?”

Clara stopped mid-step, heat rising in her cheeks. “Eliza.”

“You have to know it was only a matter of time before I asked,” Eliza said innocently. “But judging from your face, I believe I have my answer.”

Before Clara could protest further, Eliza’s attention shifted. A flicker of movement ahead caught her eye. Near the hedges, a woman was walking briskly, her bonnet tilted low as if to shield her face.

Eliza narrowed her eyes as she caught the side frame of the woman. Something struck her. “I know that woman.”

Clara followed her gaze, her eyes narrowing as well. “Wait, I do, too.”

The recognition slammed into Eliza like a hurricane, and everything suddenly fell into place. The facial structure and the look on the woman’s face grew the familiarity in her.

“That is Miss Flick Ashcombe,” she eventually said, swallowing.

Clara followed her gaze. “It looks like her. But why is she moving so quickly? It is almost as though she does not want to be seen.”

Eliza felt suspicion stir in her chest. Something about the way the woman had looked at her at the ball, the kind of things she happened to know about Tristan, and the way she wouldn’t spend a minute more with her. She swallowed and turned to Clara.

“Come. Let us follow.”

Clara frowned. “Eliza …”

“Look, we can just go quietly behind her,” Eliza urged. “I have a feeling something is not right.”

Clara sighed, almost as if she realized she couldn’t convince her anymore. “Fine.”

They both slipped off the main path, careful not to let their shoes press too loudly against the gravel. Their whispers carried low between them.

“This feels improper,” Clara murmured. “Following a woman in secret like this.”

Eliza’s heart thudded. “I have my suspicions, Clara, and they are telling me this woman has something up her sleeve. Something we have to know.”

Flick hurried past a hedge arch and disappeared while Eliza and Clara crept after her, their steps cautious. Soon, they both arrived in an even more secluded section of the park, where the gardens were quieter.

“Do not move too close,” Eliza whispered.

Soon, Flick stopped, and they did, too. A man stepped out from the other side of the arch in the garden.

Eliza narrowed her eyes.

Wait.

The man’s hat cast most of his face in shadow, but the way he tilted his shoulders, how solid his stance was, the way he shifted from one leg to the other. Her eyes widened.

Dear God.

Clara leaned closer. “Who is it?”

Eliza felt her throat grow tight. “It … It is Marcus.”

She couldn’t hear the words they exchanged. Not without straining her ears anyway, but she could feel the desperation in Flick’s voice and the anger in Marcus’s. Something about this scene tugged hard at her, and she decided to lean forward just a little to hear the conversation.

“I did this for you, Marcus. Do not tell me you have forgotten all my efforts toward this marriage already.”

“How could I forget when you keep mentioning it at every turn?”

“I made this marriage happen. Do you think any matchmaker in her right mind would connect an earl to someone like your sister?”

Eliza pressed a hand to her lips.

“Clara,” she whispered. “It is her. She is the matchmaker who arranged my marriage. And Marcus...”

Clara’s eyes widened. “You mean …”

“Yes.” Eliza’s whisper shook. “They are connected.”

Before Clara could respond, the conversation ahead grew louder, and she didn’t have to strain her ears to hear them anymore.

“You promised me more than this,” Eliza could hear Flick say, her voice cracking. “I have given you everything, Marcus. My reputation, my name …”

Marcus cut her off. “And you will have what you are owed. But you must hold your tongue. Speak of this again, and I do not think I will be so kind.”

Her voice broke, strained with tears. “If this is you being kind, I would hate to see what is on the other side. You have ruined me already.”

Marcus’s tone hardened. “Enough.”

He stepped back, straightened his coat, and strode away, his boots grinding against the stone path. Flick covered her face with her hands, shoulders trembling, before turning in the opposite direction.

Eliza and Clara stood still, their bodies pressed against the hedge, waiting until both figures had completely disappeared.

Clara let out a slow breath. “Good heavens.”

Eliza’s heart pounded so loud she feared it might give them away. “Did you hear what she said? What has he dragged her into?”

“Something foul,” Clara said bitterly. “And if she arranged your marriage under his command … Eliza, do you understand what this means?”

Eliza nodded faintly, though her hands shook. “It means Marcus set every piece in place. He used her, he used me, and he used Tristan.”

Clara gripped her arm. “We must be careful. If he discovers we overheard …”

“I know.” Eliza’s voice was tight. “We cannot let him know. Not yet.”

They slipped back the way they had come, their steps light and their breaths shallow. Neither spoke again until they reached the main garden path, where the laughter of children and the soft hum of voices filled the air once more.

But the secret pressed heavy against Eliza’s chest. The sight of Marcus with Flick Ashcombe burned in her memory, and the realization that Marcus had been behind everything from the beginning left her reeling.

As she walked beside Clara, her face calm for the sake of appearances, her heart whispered one truth only.

The time had come to act.

***

Eliza and Clara hurried back from the park. Their steps were fast and their voices remained low. They didn’t want to linger too long after what they had heard.

Especially after what they had heard.

Clara broke the silence first as their feet hurried across the path leading to Evermere. “Eliza, you must tell the Earl. You know this is not something you can keep to yourself.”

“I know,” Eliza responded, her voice strained. “I know I must.”

“So you will?” Clara pressed, her eyes searching her friend’s face. “Tonight?”

They got halfway to the path toward the manor, and Eliza eventually slowed down, her arms folded across her chest as they continued to walk.

“I suppose at this point, I have no choice. He deserves the truth. I mean, I have always assumed the extent of Marcus’ manipulation was only the Berkeley Project, but now .

.. Now it seems he had orchestrated the entire thing from the beginning.

He didn’t create the Berkeley Project because I was married to Tristan.

He made me marry Tristan because of the Berkeley Project. ”

“Good God,” Clara said firmly. “The lengths that man would go to.”

But Eliza shook her head. “I hate that I didn’t see this, and I should have, Eliza. I was used to it. Tristan was used. He had forgiven me once. I doubt he would be able to do that again once he learns about this.”

Clara’s expression softened. “Eliza, he is not blind to your character. He has seen you speak with the villagers, and he has seen you stand up to him. He will know your heart.”

Eliza nodded, ignoring the twist in her stomach. Clara was right. He may forgive her once again. But for him to do that, she needed to tell him. She cannot delay. Not again.

Soon they reached the manor, and by that time, she was panting hard. As the footmen welcomed them, a part of her was completely focused on finding Tristan first. Perhaps she could look in his study first, and if possible, his chambers.

However, as they entered, the sound of voices drifted from the drawing room. One was deep. A man’s voice, and one that she didn’t recognize. The other voice she could distinguish in her sleep. Evelyn’s inflections were clear as they settled in her ears.

She turned to Clara, who raised her brow. “It seems your husband’s aunt has company.”

Eliza hesitated, then stepped toward the drawing room. She pushed the door gently and peered inside, her eyes taking in the sight.

Evelyn sat on a chair close to the fireplace, her hands resting gently on her lap.

She looked just as stoic as she always did, the fireplace reflecting the sharp silver in her dress.

Across from her stood a tall man with broad shoulders and an air of command.

His dark coat was well-cut, and his boots were polished dark.

Evelyn’s eyes snapped up, and she noticed Eliza almost immediately. Eliza thought of retreating, but it was too late. She was already caught.

“Ah, there she is. Eliza, my dear, come in. You must meet Lord Howard.”

The man turned toward her. His eyes were sharp but still held some sort of kindness, and his back stood straight and steady.

He bowed slightly as Eliza stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Lady Vale, I presume. A pleasure.”

“Lord Howard …” Eliza responded, turning to Evelyn. Suddenly, the color in her cheeks made much more sense. “As in—”

“My husband.” Evelyn was quick to cut in.

“Ah,” Eliza responded and then curtsied, her mind still racing from what she had seen in the park. “My lord.”

Lord Howard’s voice was even and warm, but the weight it carried was still present.

“I have heard much of Evermere’s new mistress. Your arrival has stirred more conversation than you might think.”

Evelyn gave a small laugh. “Do not tease the girl. She has had enough attention as it is.”

Howard smiled faintly, his gaze never leaving Eliza. “It is not teasing, Evelyn. It is true. A household shifts with new leadership, and many watch to see how it fares.”

Eliza lowered her eyes, uncertain how much to say. She still felt the heat of what she had seen in the gardens pressing against her. She forced composure. “Evermere has stood long before me, my lord. I only hope not to fail its people.”

Howard nodded, visibly impressed. “A wise answer. Too many forget that land is not merely soil but lives tied to it. Your husband seems to understand this well.”

The mention of Tristan tightened her chest. She wanted nothing more than to leave and find him now, to spill everything. Yet Lord Howard’s presence held her in place.

Evelyn clasped her hands. “Lord Howard was just telling me of his dealings in America. And all I have been telling him is how lean he had gotten. They probably feed themselves with the same food they feed their dogs over there.”

Lord Howard turned to Evelyn, the smile on his face as big as anything. “I just told you, dear. They just do not put as much importance as we do on food over there.”

“Yes. And your frame has made that quite clear,” Evelyn responded.

Eliza laughed at Evelyn’s lines despite herself. She could feel Clara lingering by the door, waiting for her to step back out, but she couldn’t. At least not while she still continued to listen to the couple before her.

Lord Howard’s eyes seemed to weigh her. “You look troubled, my lady. Forgive me if I intrude, but one learns to read faces after many years. Is all well?”

Eliza kept her voice even. “It is nothing, my lord. Only a long walk and heavier thoughts than I expected.”

He studied her a moment longer, then inclined his head. “Then I shall not press.”

Evelyn broke in with a laugh that carried a note of nervousness. “Do not be so serious, Howard. You will frighten her away before she has even had her tea.”

Lord Howard chuckled, though the weight of his presence did not lighten. “Very well. Will you come join us for tea?”

Eliza shook her head almost immediately. “I am afraid I must decline. I apologize, but I have some matters to attend to, and you will have to excuse me.”

Lord Howard nodded as well, giving her another slight bow. “Of course, Lady Vale. I look forward to speaking with you again.”

Evelyn gave her a warm smile. “Go, my dear. We shall manage here.”

Eliza curtsied again and left the room, her steps quickening the moment the door closed behind her. The air in the corridor felt cooler and sharper against her skin. She pressed her hand against her chest, trying to steady her breath.

Lord Howard’s presence had been commanding, yes, but her thoughts could not linger on him now. What mattered was Tristan. The truth weighed too heavily to wait.

She turned down the hall, her heart fixed on one resolve.

She would tell him tonight.