Chapter 3

Easton could hardly contain his excitement. He prayed that meeting Miss Carter would be the answer he'd been looking for to return to his art. He missed painting like most men might mourn a long-lost lover. He gathered his travel bag full of utensils and paints, tucked his easel and a blank canvas under his arm, and proceeded to make his way down to the beach at precisely a quarter before two. He didn't want to be late and have Miss Carter scold him for being tardy. Then again, she didn't seem like the sort who would be disagreeable. In truth, she was quite… alluring. Not only did she have a pleasing countenance, but she had a silent sort of charm that he found quite fascinating. He wondered what sort of secrets she might hold inside of her heart to cause that melancholy look on her face. He wondered about her laugh, and how it might brighten her face if she were to smile more.

But he wasn't the sort of man to pry or even cajole someone into revealing something about themselves that they didn't want to offer. He had grown up with a younger sister who, he'd found, was best served when she dealt with problems on her own. If she wanted his advice, he was there to listen, but that was all. He never tried to take over and fix whatever bothered her because he knew Aline wouldn't want that.

Something told him that Miss Carter was similar in that aspect. If she had chosen to come to the Society and become an independent woman free of the strictures that society placed on females, then he wanted to support her cause. He wasn't antiquated in the way some men thought women shouldn't have a voice. His sister was rather intelligent, and he applauded her dedication to mathematics and the sciences. He was quite proud of her achievements. It was just recently that she had decided to marry, and she was seven and twenty, the age when most ladies were considered "on the shelf."

Easton had never believed his sister should be forced to wed just for the sake of doing so. He had more respect for her than that. He wanted her to marry for love, and she had done so. He couldn't be happier for her. At some point, Easton knew he should do the same for the sake of his title, but his mistress—the canvas—was demanding and took a lot of his attention. It would be difficult to push her aside for a wife when he was devoted to his art.

When Easton spied the sign proclaiming the Seaside Society, he started to search for the alcove that Miss Carter had told him about. He started to wonder if he'd missed it, but then he happened to stumble upon it. His mouth kicked up in the corner because she had found the perfect place to paint. Her easel was shielded from the wind, but she had an uninhibited view of the water as it flowed upon the shore. It also afforded her plenty of privacy. It was, in essence, quite perfect.

She glanced up when he approached.

"Good day, Miss Carter. You have the most wonderful artist's studio."

He was rewarded with a slight upturn of her lips. "I thought so." She had just organized her work area and sat on her rock.

"Ah. Another ideal spot." He gestured to another large boulder a respectable distance away. "I shall set my things up here." He could feel her watching him as he put his things in order. Once he was finished, he turned to her with a broad grin. "Let's begin."

She gave a brief nod, dipped her brush into one of the colors, and then spread it along her canvas, where it magically turned into a crystal blue sky.

"Remarkable," he breathed. "With just one stroke, you have already started to create something brilliant."

She cleaned her brush and then looked at him. "Your turn."

"Indeed." Easton tried to act as though he was prepared to create a masterpiece, but when his brush hovered over the colors, he realized that he had no idea what he might paint. He lowered his hand. "I daresay I'm quite at a loss. How do you know what to draw? Is it always the shore?"

"Not always," she admitted. "Sometimes I draw ships in the harbor, or perhaps a child flying a kite in the wind, like that one down there." She pointed in that direction. "It's not a portrait, but rather the hint of a scene. I never fail to discover something new, and Lady Beauvais says that it shows in my work."

Easton nodded in understanding. "You see the beauty in everything."

Again, there was that sad sort of expression that appeared behind her eyes. He yearned to wipe it away and replace it with the sparkle of happiness. "Not always, but I do try. Without beauty, what is there to admire on this earth?"

* * *

Stop talking. For someone she hadn't known for more than a handful of hours, Vanessa found it particularly easy to talk to Lord Fane. It wasn't a good thing. She found herself speaking more to him than she had anyone else at the boarding house. She'd talked to Tassy the most, but that was with a heavy amount of hesitation. She knew the perils of getting too close and confiding her innermost thoughts, and yet, she didn't seem to have any such qualms when it came to the viscount. One simple statement could lead to full conversations, and so much more. She had to be on her guard at all times, or everything she'd built for herself could come crumbling down around her.

"You have a poetic view that I might never hope to possess."

She heard the wistful note in Lord Fane's voice, but she didn't dare turn around to look at him. It was bad enough that she could recall every hard line of his jaw, and the distinct way his brown sideburns stopped evenly where his strong cheekbones began. And she wasn't going to attempt to describe his unusual amber eyes.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Vanessa replied, "One doesn't know anything until their talent begins to take shape."

"It's allowing the talent to return that has been a struggle of late," he muttered.

Her lips twitched, but she refused to smile. She paused as she washed out her brush. Looking out over the strand and the ocean beyond, she asked him, "What do you see out there?"

It didn't take him long to comment, "A few small children, a couple holding hands, a few sails on the water—"

He stopped when she started shaking her head. "No. I mean, what do you see?"

This time, the hesitation was longer. Finally, he spoke, and she noted that his voice was softer, more thoughtful. "I see a yellow sun that shines with orange rays upon the water. I see a woman in a light purple gown. She's smiling up at her male companion with the same brilliance. I see a child laughing with siblings as they play in the sand and build a castle."

Vanessa dared to turn to him, and the clarity she saw on his face made her smile. "Now do you understand? You don't need a muse. Everything you need is inside of you."

He blinked as if coming out of some sort of trance. "Is this how you view the world?"

She shrugged. "Only when I want to paint."

"And the others?" he prodded.

Vanessa's mouth tightened. "I don't think about it otherwise."

She turned back to her paints and frowned. She hoped he would think she was trying to decide which color to use next, but, instead, she realized that she was discomfited by his query. She had never had a very good view of the world, and certainly not in recent years. Life had dealt her a heavy blow from the beginning, and it was difficult to imagine a life where the colors shone as brightly as her paintings. Perhaps that was the reason Lady Beauvais and her other clients had found them so alluring. She didn't create landscapes from reality, for she added special touches of light and dimension that made the world a place she had always envisioned it could have been.

She caught movement out of the side of her gaze and turned her head to see that Lord Fane had moved his easel closer to her, having abandoned his rock. "What are you doing?"

"I thought to gain further inspiration from your work, and I daresay it's difficult to see from that far back."

She gestured to his easel, which was still rather short. "How do you expect to paint?"

He reached down and adjusted the legs, ensuring that they expanded farther. He grinned broadly at her. "Problem solved. Besides, I don't have to sit to paint. I actually prefer standing." His eyes caught the light from the sun and dared to twinkle. Vanessa's breath caught. "You don't mind, do you?"

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about, but she cleared her throat and replied, "Not at all."

She did her best to focus on the sea spread out before her, but for the rest of the time she sat there, she was aware of Lord Fane as well.

About two hours later, when she had the foundation of her painting done, she started to gather her things. "I am done for the day. I generally finish the rest of it in my rooms at the Society."

His eyebrows lifted. "You complete a work in one day?"

She dared to snort. "Hardly. I have several paintings that I am working on at the moment. I just come here for the background."

"Are all your paintings seascapes then?"

She shook her head. "Not all of them."

"Indeed? If you don't mind, I would like to view them some time."

"How about today?" Vanessa cursed her wayward tongue. What had compelled her to offer such an invitation like that? She knew better than to bring him into her personal haven. She quickly waved a hand and tried to laugh off her faux pas. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so forward. I understand if you don't—"

"Today is perfect."

She paused and looked at him. He was smiling at her warmly, and without any sort of censure in his expression. If he thought her bold or forward, his expression didn't show that he believed it to be so. "Very well." She decided to change the topic to his easel. "You were able to do something today. Hopefully, that makes you feel accomplished."

He expelled a slow breath. "More than you know, and it's all thanks to you."

"No," she disagreed. "It's because you finally started to believe in yourself."

* * *

Captivated. It was the only word that Easton could use to describe how he was feeling toward Miss Carter. She had turned out to be so much more than his muse. She was also a kind listening ear, a teacher who he hadn't known he'd needed, but more than that, he was already starting to consider her a friend. He wondered what caused the haunting expression behind her eyes, whether it was something in her past, or perhaps her current state, that turned her blue eyes into turbulent ocean waves. They were a contradiction to her hair that caught the sun's rays and sparkled with strands of gold and red, like a glorious sunset. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her equal—in more ways than one.

There were times, not so long ago, that Easton had considered courting other women, but no one had captured his complete attention like this solemn woman walking next to him. She didn't have to talk or flirt to be interesting. She had a soft-spoken sort of quality that he hadn't thought would be appealing. Some men might find her boring and overlook the charm lingering just beneath the surface, but Easton couldn't just see it, he could feel her personality. It came to life on canvas. He was sure he could coax it out of her physically as well. It would just take some time and patience. Both of which he had an abundance of at the moment.

Needless to say, he was glad that he'd traveled to Burnham-On-Sea. When his sister, Aline, had mentioned it a few weeks ago, he'd shrugged off the idea, believing that nothing could cure his malaise. He had been wrong. In the span of an afternoon, he'd managed to turn a white canvas to life with color, which was more than he'd done in months. The relief that had bloomed inside of his chest was greater than most anything he'd ever felt before.

As they walked in the front door of the Society, it looked just as it had the last time he'd stepped over the threshold. He'd been here with his cousin when he'd been courting Tassy and found it to be a comfortable atmosphere. Miss Grantham and Miss Stratford had created a haven for women searching for a life of independence. Easton was rather disheartened that Miss Carter had decided upon the same path, as he might have entertained the idea of asking her to join him for some of the amusements to be found in town, perhaps even enjoy a nice dinner together at one of the local establishments, but he knew the suggestion wouldn't be well received. It was all he could do to convince her to let him join her that afternoon, and now to follow her here. He was quite sure that if hadn't been for Lady Beauvais's influence, he would be forced to lament his circumstances at the leased townhouse by himself.

"Miss Carter!"

He turned to see a curly-haired blonde woman with bright, blue eyes and a broad smile. She nearly skipped over to his companion, who greeted her with a polite nod. "Lady Leia."

The young woman laughed in true debutante fashion. "Really, how many times must I tell you to call me Leia?"

"I'm sorry. Leia." Easton noted the pause Miss Carter intoned and wondered at the reasoning for it. Perhaps it wasn't only his acquaintance that made her uncomfortable, but others as well. Interesting. It did, however, make him feel a bit better about his acquaintance with her.

Leia's attention turned to him. "Aren't you going to offer any introductions, Vanessa?"

Vanessa inclined her head and then said politely, "This is Lord Fane, the Earl of Stanton's cousin. He's a fellow artist visiting from Ireland. My lord, this is Lady Leia Harpin, a recent tenant recommended by the Duchess of Rosewood."

"A glowing recommendation to be sure," Easton noted.

"You know Iona?" Lady Leia asked.

"I have heard of her remarkable prowess with landscape gardening. Her exploits are becoming quite renowned, as well as her revered status."

"Yes," the girl stated happily. "I was nearly the Duchess of Rosewood, but after living under the ruling thumb of a duke for a father, I daresay I was relieved to be free of the torment. The title suits Iona so much better. I'm perfectly content on the seashore."

"Leia hopes to open a ladies' sparring center."

"Indeed," she nodded. "I think women need to know something more worthy than needlepoint and the steps to the quadrille. It should be imperative that they know how to protect themselves."

Easton's eyebrows lifted. "That is a remarkable goal, to be sure, and rather admirable. I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, my lord. I daresay I cannot wait for the day I open my establishment. It shall rival that of Gentleman Jackson's in London."

With a broad grin, she continued on her way.

Easton turned to Miss Carter. "She is… enthusiastic."

She laughed. "That is a perfectly eloquent way of putting it."

As she started to move forward, it took Easton a moment to remember how to move his feet properly. That genuine laugh had literally stopped him in his tracks. His thoughts were suddenly consumed with how he might get it to happen again.

* * *

Vanessa had never had anyone but Tassy inside her rooms at the boarding house. She'd never had a reason to do so, and although it wasn't entirely proper for Lord Fane to be there alone with her now, she made sure to keep the door open. It was to be a brief visit, and then he would be on his way. She just had to make it until then.

She glanced behind her and it was as if the viscount took all the air from the room. He wasn't overly tall or exceptionally virile, but his presence overwhelmed her all the same. She didn't know if it was his shared love of painting that intrigued her, or if it was just his kind nature, but it was still dangerous.

"These are amazing."

Vanessa shook off her misgivings and watched as the viscount went to each of the canvases in progress situated in various locations about the room.

He paused by one work and lifted his hand to encompass the scene. "The variation of color that you use is… exquisite."

Vanessa had to admit that his admiration made her feel warm inside. But she reminded herself that was all she would allow. There could never be anything more between her and the viscount but a brief acquaintance. "I'm glad you like them," she murmured, careful to retain a respectful distance as he slowly made a turn about the room. However, it was apparent that he was completely enthralled in her work and nothing more. It made her breathe a bit easier.

He paused before a piece that she had yet to finish. It was also one that wasn't dedicated to Burnham-On-Sea, but rather the woods where she had long explored about her father's estate as a girl. It had been her only means of escape when her father's excessive drinking had made it difficult to remain in the house and watch him slowly destroy himself.

"There is something special about this one," he said softly. "I can feel the love you have for this one." He tilted his head to the side. "But there is a certain darkness that pierces the soul—"

Vanessa couldn't let him finish that sentence. It was too close to the truth. It was the one painting that she had drawn from experience. "I do apologize, Lord Fane, but I should get back to work."

He blinked, as if coming back to himself, and then he inclined his head. "Of course. I'm sorry for taking up any more of your time. You have been more than patient with me."

She instantly felt guilty, so she softened her tone. "It's been no hardship. You are a wonderful conversationalist."

"Is that so?" A curious brow lifted. "In that regard, would I be out of line if I asked to join you tomorrow to continue working on my painting?"

Vanessa knew she had to tread carefully. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather work on it in private where you can ponder the scene?"

He smiled. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I am only inspired when you're around at the moment. That might change soon, but I am already finding myself at a loss when it comes to my next brush stroke."

"I see." Vanessa nodded. "Very well. I shall see you tomorrow."

"Capital." His grin broadened, and he headed for the door. He paused and looked back at her. "Thank you, Miss Carter. I don't know what I would do without your kind guidance."

She smiled slightly as he took his leave, but the instant she shut the door on his departure, it vanished from her lips as she closed her eyes. She was playing with fire, dangerous fire, and if she didn't keep her distance, everything she'd worked so hard to accomplish could easily unravel. She hadn't allowed herself to get close to anyone at Burnham-On-Sea. She couldn't start now. Especially someone like the viscount, who could easily make her forget everything she'd suffered before she'd set out on this journey to forget a regrettable past.

She wouldn't relive those horrors, and if she wanted to maintain her current solitary existence, she had to ensure it remained that way.

Solitary.