Page 79 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

Tristan narrowed his eyes. “Explore where?”

Mr. Kale cleared his throat gently. “If I may, my lord, there is a parish half an hour from here. It is worth the walk. The stonework is very old, and the grounds are peaceful.”

Eliza turned to Tristan with a spark in her eyes. “Then it is settled. I shall visit the parish.”

Tristan gave the faintest grunt of disapproval, though his gaze softened. “Very well. But do not wander too far.”

Behind them, shrieks of laughter rose again. Jane had returned, waving the pencil in triumph.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” Eliza said brightly, “I have an artist to attend to.”

She turned back toward the children, feeling Tristan’s eyes follow her. The weight of his gaze lingered even as she bent low to greet Jane, her smile returning with ease.

***

By the late afternoon, the only sign that it had rained the previous day was the damp earth and the wet huts around the inn. The sun was shining so bright that it was hard to imagine there had been a storm just the day before. Eliza stepped out of the inn and drew her shawl closer. Mr. Kale, who was busy scrawling on his ledgers, looked up from behind the desk as she passed.

“My lady,” he greeted warmly.

“Mr. Kale,” she responded, her voice quiet. “I thought I might take a trip to the parish now.”

“Do you need someone to guide you around? The paths outside can twist if you do not know them well.”

Eliza smiled. “I will manage. You need not trouble yourself.”

“You are certain?” Mr. Kale pressed.

“I am. Do not worry for me,” she said, and with that, she gave him a small nod and walked out.

The village was alive again. Market stalls still stood in rows, though fewer than the previous day at the festival. She paused here and there to ask gentle questions of the people who passed by.

Most of what she asked had to do with directions, and the people were quite eager to help. Soon enough, she was pointed down a narrower track that wound between hedges until the parish came into view.

The building was modest, its stonework worn but sturdy. She stopped by a tree to examine the parish more closely. A few strings of ivy crept along the sides, and a shiny wooden cross crowned the roof. She exhaled and eventually moved closer, not stopping until she got to the door.

A woman stepped forward from the doorway as Eliza approached. She had dark hair neatly bound and a smile that was more polite, rather than warm.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “I am Isabella, the vicar’s wife. May I ask who comes calling?”

Eliza raised her head. “Good morning. I am Lady Vale.”

The woman’s eyes flickered. “Oh. Lord Vale’s wife.”

Eliza narrowed her gaze. “You have heard of me?”

Isabella gave a small shrug. “News of a marriage to one of the most influential men on the nearby estate does not take long to pass around. Word travels fast here.”

Eliza nodded. “I see.”

“May I ask what brings you?” Isabella said politely.

“I wanted only to see how the parish is doing. I have always had an admiration for places like this, you know, their quiet and their design. I thought since I was in the village, I might as well look in and see. If you will allow me, of course.”

Isabella considered her for a moment, then smiled. “Very well. If you like, I can give you the tour. My husband would not look kindly upon me if he heard the lady of Evermere came to the parish and was not received properly.”

“I would not wish to impose,” Eliza replied.

“You are not,” Isabella said firmly. “Please.”