Chapter Eighteen

F elix had to keep reminding himself that Elizabeth didn't see this outing the same way he did. He must not get his hopes up. She'd never been to an art gallery before. She was going to satisfy her curiosity. That was all. She wasn't going because she wanted to spend time with him.

But even with this logic, he took great care in selecting the right clothes to wear, and he agonized for an entire five minutes over what tie pin to wear. A tie pin, of all things. What lady ever cared what tie pin, if any, a gentleman chose to wear? Lydia had mentioned plenty of things about what gentlemen wore, and she never once said anything about a tie pin.

But a tie pin represented a detail that a gentleman who cared about his appearance didn't overlook. And if he was mindful of details, he cared about other aspects of life, including things that were important to the lady he loved. Not that he loved Elizabeth. They didn't have that kind of marriage. They were married, however, and marriage meant he should at least care enough to be mindful of the details, right?

He groaned and picked up the tie pin he thought would go best with his clothes. He was a hopeless cause. If Elizabeth knew what he was thinking, she'd laugh at him. He picked up a cloth from the small table next to his chair and wiped away the dust and scuff marks that had accumulated on his boots since he last wore them.

When he had done everything he could to make himself as attractive as possible, he left his bedchamber. The important thing was that he restrain his enthusiasm. It was all right to let Elizabeth know he was happy to escort her to the art gallery, but he must not jump up and down in excitement over it.

He reached the drawing room, fully expecting to wait for Elizabeth. As it turned out, however, she was the one who was waiting for him. His face warmed in embarrassment. He didn't realize he had been in his bedchamber for so long. But then, she was already breathtaking. She didn't need long to look beautiful.

She stood up from the settee and approached him, her face lit up in anticipation. "I forgot to ask you if they have any engraved images like the brass plate or the owl at the gallery."

He thought back to what he had seen while at the gallery he planned to take her to. "I'm afraid not. From what I remember, there are only paintings and sculptures." He winced when he noted her disappointment. "I'm sorry. I don't know where to view engraved art." He didn't want to suggest they cancel the outing. It would mean that he wouldn't get to spend the afternoon with her, and that's the last thing he wanted.

"I suppose engraved images are not as popular as paintings and sculptures."

"No, I don't think they are," he slowly agreed. He clasped his hands behind his back as he struggled to come up with one good reason why they should still go to the gallery. Unfortunately, nothing presented itself.

"I suppose you have to go to the market to find engraved items," she commented.

His heartbeat picked up with hope. "We can go there if you prefer."

"No, I've already seen everything there is in the market. I'll go to the art gallery."

He waited until she walked to the door before releasing his breath. What a relief. She hadn't lost interest in the outing. Once he could move, he hurried after her.

He caught up to her as she left the townhouse. He took a look at the front door and was glad to see that no one had defaced it again. He hoped whoever did it had been satisfied and wouldn't do it again.

Elizabeth went into the carriage before him. He debated whether to sit next to her or across from her then realized there really was no choice. He should sit across from her. They hadn't gotten comfortable enough to sit next to each other. He went to the seat opposite her.

"How many times have you been to an art gallery?" she asked after the footman shut the door.

"I've been going there once a year since I was fifteen, but I haven't gone yet this year." He thought for a moment. "Today will mark the twelfth time I'll have been there."

Her lips curled up in amusement. "That's an unusual way to tell me you're twenty-six."

He hadn't worded things that way to reveal his age, but he supposed he had inadvertently done so. He returned her smile. "I figured this was a more interesting way to let you know how old I am."

She chuckled. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor."

"I'm not in the habit of telling jokes, but once in a while, inspiration strikes."

"So I should make a note of this?"

Enjoying the playful banter they were sharing, he nodded. "I would if I were you. I can't guarantee I'll ever be this witty again."

She seemed pleased by his response, and excitement coursed through his body. He wished he could always be witty. Life would be much easier if he was. He probably would have handled things much better the night he met her. Who knew? She might have even agreed to dance with him.

He wasn't sure how he could do better than his last comment, so he settled for turning his attention to the window. Most of the time, they didn't speak when together. This time, however, the silence didn't feel awkward. And this was a nice change of pace. With any luck, he wouldn't do anything to ruin the progress they'd made.

"Do you really like that plate I showed you this morning?" she asked.

Surprised by the question, his gaze returned to her. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry we won't see anything like that at the gallery."

"It's all right. Whenever people speak of art, they probably think of only paintings and sculptures. Most people don't realize art is all around us."

"I hadn't thought of it, but you're right. If you pay attention, you can see the creative work of someone's hands all around us. I, for one, picked the townhouse I live in because I enjoyed looking at the bookshelves in the library. The man who made those shelves could have made them plain, but he chose to give the edges some curves and swirls. I think they make the books on those shelves more attractive."

"The shelves are a work of art," she said.

"The owl and brass plate you added to the townhouse enhance it, too. If you find anything else like those things, I'd be delighted to display them. After years of fighting Oscar to make the townhouse look presentable by cleaning up after himself, I very much enjoy looking at items that inspire calm and tranquility."

"That's why I like having them around. There's too much misery in the world. It's nice to have something that gives you happiness."

Her comment struck him as interesting. Unlike Lydia, she didn't come out and share her thoughts. Oh sure, she let him know how angry she'd been to be forced into marrying him, but he figured anyone would do that since the situation was so serious. For other things, however, he suspected Elizabeth was careful in how much she revealed.

Perhaps she didn't like being vulnerable. He knew very little of what her brother had been like, but when her brother was upset, there had been no stopping him. He would go to extreme measures to get what he wanted. He had even chased Felix all the way out to his country estate for a duel. Given that kind of temperament, he doubted her brother had made things easy for her. He had probably been controlling and demanding. Her life probably hadn't been pleasant. Who wouldn't seek out art that offered calm and tranquility in an environment like that?

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Felix said, "I know I disrupted your life, but I hope that I can help contribute to that calm and tranquility in the future."

Though she didn't answer, he caught the flicker of appreciation on her face and was glad he could say something to bring her a small measure of joy.

***

I T DIDN'T TAKE LONG for Elizabeth to realize that coming to the art gallery was a mistake. She didn't know why she thought people might not snicker and stare here when they had made it a point to do those things at the market. The only difference, she supposed, was that they made a greater effort to hide what they were doing. But she noticed the stares, the snickers, and the whispers. She noticed all of it. And she hated it. The only thing keeping her at the gallery was the determination to not let them know they could intimidate her. As soon as someone knew they could intimidate you, it was over. They would have power over you forever. If she had learned nothing else from her parents and brother, she had learned that.

She forced her attention to the paintings on display. She had come here to learn from the work others had done. There might be some technique in their art she could use in her own. That was worth being here for. She was not going to let these people ruin this for her.

While she examined one of the paintings that featured swirls in a night sky, she caught sight of someone gesturing to her from the corner of her eye. She glanced over at the lady dressed in a peach dress with an obnoxious feathered hat. The lady was laughing at Elizabeth. The lady's friend laughed, too. Elizabeth's spine stiffened.

She never should have looked in the lady's direction. But now that she had, she had no choice but to give the lady a silent challenge. If she didn't, the lady would continue to mock her. The lady finally noticed that Elizabeth was staring at her. The lady gasped, took her friend's arm, and hurried off to an exhibit further away. Elizabeth was finally able to turn her gaze back to the painting. It was a shame she couldn't enjoy it like she'd been enjoying it just moments ago. Why did people have to ruin things by gossiping?

Her gaze went to Felix. His attention was on another painting. He had missed the way those ladies had been laughing at her. That was for the best. She didn't want him to notice what the others were doing. Yes, he was responsible for it, but having become better acquainted with him, she'd concluded that he really did feel terrible for what he did. If he noticed the ridicule, he would only feel worse.

The afternoon wasn't turning out to be the pleasant outing she'd hoped for. Doing her best to hide her disappointment, she walked over to Felix.

"What do you think of this one?" he asked as he gestured to the painting of people sitting by a lake on a summer day. "There are dahlias and primroses in the grass where the mother and her children are having a picnic."

Forcing aside the gentleman who passed by and scanned her up and down with more interest than he had a right to have, she stepped closer to the painting. "You have a good eye for detail. Those aren't that easy to see among the prominent zinnias."

"If I saw this in the market, I would buy this for the dining room. It would go well with the brass plate."

"Yes, it would."

"Then I would have to find a painting with cyclamen and snowdrops to balance things out. At times like this, I wish I had some artistic talent. I'd create the paintings myself if possible."

Her gift wasn't painting, so she couldn't help him there. However... "Maybe we should see what paintings are available in the market."

His eyes widened. "You'd be willing to be seen in the market with me?"

She was surprised that he was surprised, given that they were already in public. "I'm at an art gallery with you."

"Yes, but this is an art gallery. There are fewer people here than there are in the market."

More people only meant that she had to deal with more people snickering, ogling, and staring at her. Like it or not, this was her life now. She couldn't make people stop gossiping about her. Maybe it would be good to go out in public a lot more. Not only would people assume they weren't hurting her, but the people's ability to bother her would diminish because she'd get used to the way they were acting.

"The number of people who are around us doesn't bother me," she said with more bravado than she felt.

He seemed too shocked to react for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Wonderful. I would be honored to escort you to the market. Maybe we'll find something for our home."

She blinked. He had just come out and spoken about the townhouse as if she owned it as much as he did. Granted, he was allowing her to decorate the place, but ownership allowed her more control over it. A gentleman wouldn't extend that kind of ownership to his wife unless his feelings for her went deep.

"When would you like to go to the market?" he asked.

"Oh, well, I suppose any time is fine. I have nothing planned." She didn't know if that made her pathetic since she could think of many ladies who had their social calendars filled. But she saw no reason to act like her calendar was full. It had only been full when her brother was trying to pawn her off on someone to marry.

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

"Tomorrow will be fine."

His face lit up in a way that let her know he was very happy that she was willing to spend more time with him. No one had ever been that excited by the prospect of being with her before. This was a nice change. Instead of being told she would be better off staying out of sight, someone was telling her they wanted her company. She didn't know how to respond to that, so she settled for smiling at him.

Felix returned her smile.

Then an awkward silence fell between them. This whole thing of getting along was still new. They would probably need more time before being together felt comfortable. She turned her attention back to the artwork. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he had chosen to do the same thing. As odd as it was, there was some reassurance in knowing she wasn't the only one who was struggling with how to transition from being strangers to being companions.