Page 60 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

Gideon exhaled. “Oh.”

“It is a terrible idea, is it not? I knew it,” Tristan whispered.

Gideon blinked, then allowed the rare curve of a smile. “On the contrary, my lord. It is an excellent idea. It would benefit Lady Vale greatly. She deserves such a welcome.”

Tristan studied his own reflection, as though seeking confirmation there. “So this is not just you telling me what I do not want to hear?”

“No,” Gideon responded firmly. “Quite the opposite. Have you told her yet?”

Tristan shook his head. “Not yet.”

Gideon gave a soft laugh, surprising in its ease. “I think you should inform her, my lord.”

“That settles it,” Tristan replied. “I will tell her this evening.”

He pulled out his pocket watch and snapped it open. A mild gasp escaped his lips. “Goodness. Is that the time? I must hurry. They will be waiting for me already.”

Gideon stepped back, satisfied with his work, and gestured toward the boots. “Then you are ready, my lord.”

Tristan slid them on, the leather snug, and straightened once more. “Very well. If anything urgent arises while I am gone, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, my lord,” Gideon replied simply.

Tristan gave him a brief nod before striding toward the door. The morning ride awaited him, but already his thoughts had leapt forward to a ball that might reshape his wife’s place in the house, and perhaps, even though he was not ready to admit it aloud, reshape his own as well.

Chapter 16

When Tristan told her about the ball that would be held in her honor, Eliza’s first thought, in fact, was fear. She had never had to organize something where she would be the one everyone came to see.

“Do not worry. It is only going to be a few friends and family members,” Tristan had reassured her.

So, for the next week, she engaged with the servants and footmen to plan the ball. The lingering thought that she might make a fool of herself did not disappear throughout the planning process. One of the nights, she was even certain Mrs. Yarrow noticed her anxiety.

“You do not have to worry, my lady,” the housekeeper had said, her voice filled with care. “It is only for one night.”

***

Days later, when she stood in front of the door, her heart pounded every single way but straight. Her hand settled on her gown, and she tried to listen to the sound from the other side of the room. She could hear footsteps, and a part of her tried to count them.

Ten?

Twenty?

A hundred?

The music did not exactly help in keeping her focus either, and the thought of having to go in there and face the guests alone seemed to terrify her to the core. She tried to slow her breathing and keep calm but it did little to nothing to help her growing anxiety.

From the sound alone, the ballroom was full. More people than she had expected. More eyes than she wanted.

Her breath came shallow. She told herself it was only a ball. She had been to dozens. Yet her feet would not move.

Why was she suddenly nervous?

She closed her eyes for a moment and let the truth press hard against her chest. This was not like other nights. This was not someone else’s celebration.

“Lady Vale,” Clara’s voice called behind her, immediately pulling her back to the present. “Do not tell me you are nervous over a simple event.”

Eliza opened her eyes, turning to her friend. Clara stood with her arms folded and her head tilted as if she already knew the answer.