Page 85 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

He stepped closer, softening his stance. “And you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Me?”

“Your letter,” Tristan responded, gesturing toward the open paper between her fingers. “What exactly did it say?”

Eliza blinked, then offered a small smile. “Oh, this was just from Clara. She was wondering why we are not home yet. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” he asked, watching her carefully.

“Nothing more.”

Tristan held her gaze for another long moment, then raised his head. “Very well. She would not have to worry for long anyway. We leave for the manor at first light.”

Eliza exhaled and nodded.

For a time, neither spoke. The logs and letter burned in the fireplace, but the silence between them did not feel empty. In fact, it was the complete opposite of that.

Tristan summoned all the courage he could muster and moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate. He placed a hand gently on her back, almost like he was trying to keep her steady.

She looked at him, her face softening, the tension in her shoulders leaving.

“Everything is going to be just fine, you know that, do you not?” he asked quietly. “I only have a problem with your brother and not you.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes not leaving his for a second. “I just want to be certain you will not do anything rash.”

He did not pull away. “I promise.”

Chapter 22

The cold dawn air settled almost harshly on Eliza’s face as she stepped into the reception hall with Tristan by her side. Mr. Kale stood by the doorway, waiting for them with his usual steady look.

“My lord, my lady,” he said, bowing his head. “Jane wished to rise early and see you off, but she could not. Sleep held her too fast. She will be most disappointed.”

Eliza smiled softly. “Please tell her she has nothing to be sad about. I will come to visit soon, and she must be ready to show me more of her drawings. And, Mr. Kale, do tell her that I shall treasure the one she gave me for as long as I live.”

Kale’s lips curved slightly, though his sigh carried weight. “I hope you will not think her too forward, my lady. It is just that she has grown fond of you in a short time.”

“Offended?” Eliza shook her head gently. “It is more excitement than I have had in days, believe me. Your daughter has given me joy.”

“Then I shall relay this to her with the utmost joy in return.”

Eliza nodded as they walked the narrow path toward the waiting carriage. The wheels shone with the falling morning dew, and the horses dug their hooves lightly into the earth. They stopped, and Eliza watched Tristan give Kale a firm nod.

“I suppose this is farewell, for now,” Tristan said. “But I will see you again before long.”

Mr. Kale gave a small shrug. “If I am still here and the land has not been stripped from us by then.”

The words landed heavily, and Eliza felt them cut straight into her chest. She stared at Tristan, who met Mr. Kale’s eyes with steady resolve.

“Do not worry, Mr. Kale. Do not worry at all,” Tristan said quietly. He reached into his coat, drew out several coins, and pressed them into Mr. Kale’s hand. “For the inn. For letting Jane keep my wife company and, of course, for all your troubles.”

Mr. Kale stared down at the coins, his brow furrowed. “My lord, this is far too much. I cannot take it. I only charge a quarter of what you have paid me for all guests.”

“Then think of it as a gift for Jane,” Tristan answered firmly. “And know this … I will not let this land be stolen from you. You have my word.”

Mr. Kale swallowed hard. His voice roughened as he bowed. “You have my gratitude, my lord. My lady.”

With that, Tristan helped Eliza into the carriage. She settled against the cushioned seat, looking back as Mr. Kale lifted his hand in farewell. Jane’s absence tugged at her heart, but the drawing folded safely in her satchel was proof enough of their bond.