Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

I t was clear to George now that Miss Lovell was trying to get Alexander's attention. The moment they arrived, he alighted from the carriage and offered to help her down before Alex could. He needed to protect his dear friend, and besides, he couldn't help the impish part of him that enjoyed thwarting her plans and riling her.

She hesitated, but giving her no choice, he gently but firmly took her hand in his. As she made to get down, their gazes locked. Her lips parted as though she was going to say something, but no sound came forth. She suddenly seemed breathless. He felt breathless too.

When she finally got down, George lingered before he released her hand. He found himself unable to resist. Her delicate hand in his felt just right. He tried to understand, but couldn't wrap his head around the curious pull she had on him.

Her gaze fleetingly moved to the side, and he saw her eyes widen in what he could only interpret as alarm. Somewhat concerned and curious, he followed her gaze to the unexpected sight of his aunt and Baroness Dewsbury. The Baroness wore a scowl as she regarded her daughter glaringly. Strange, he thought.

Miss Lovell just as quickly averted her gaze. She seemed somewhat nervous now. "Trouble in the nest?" George couldn't help but ask, his tone light but probing.

He watched a smile creep onto her lovely features before she shook her head and said, "I am simply learning to fly." Her words were light, yet they carried a weight that hinted at deeper currents swirling beneath the surface.

She pinned him with a gaze now searching, and he thought that something about it seemed almost imploring. Disturbingly so, it stirred something within him—a desire to understand her struggles and perhaps, to aid her in her flight.

He couldn't help but recall the Baron's angry words in the hallway. And now the Baroness's glare. The pair seemed controlling. He wondered if all was well with their daughter. Was there more to her reason for seeking his friend's attention? Perhaps he'd gotten something wrong somewhere, and this was not about Miss Lovell as he'd suspected from the start, a voice in his head contemplated. Still, he would continue to watch her closely, he decided.

"There is nothing quite so scary, but at the same time thrilling as leaving one's nest," George said, his tone contemplative, perhaps even a bit probing.

"I hardly think it scary," she responded with an air of anticipation and hope, her eyes alight with what seemed like a mixture of defiance and determination.

Alexander alighted just then. But instead of handing Miss Lovell to him, George placed her hand on his arm and decided that he would keep her by his side. He enjoyed riling her up for some reason he couldn't understand. This way, he'd be killing two birds with one stone, he thought. He could indulge his whim, and protect his friend at the same time.

He watched her surprised gaze fall to her hand on his arm before it traveled back up to meet his. She was not pleased. George returned her glare with a smile.

He felt her tense. And this gave him that curious satisfaction once again.

"An unexpected pairing," Lady Amberton noted with a touch of amusement in her voice.

Firman was paired with another lady, but decided to keep close to them nonetheless.

"The English countryside never disappoints, My Lord," Miss Lovell suddenly said to Alex as they walked. Despite being on another man's arm, she was still determined to engage Firman, George thought. He should have known that she wasn't one to be easily deterred.

There was challenge in her gaze when she briefly looked up and met his too. "Now I understand what you meant, My Lord, when you spoke so highly of the weather and environment here," she added, fleetingly shutting her eyes and taking in a deep breath as though to test the very air and atmosphere she was so commending.

George found himself admiring her features when she closed her eyes. His gaze settled on her pert little lips, and he quickly averted it. What was wrong with him?

"I am glad to see that I haven't exaggerated and disappointed you, Miss Lovell," Alexander replied from across.

"Oh, I was already convinced since that orange juice, My Lord," she chuckled, leaning forward and smiling at Firman, who responded in kind.

"You have been full of praises for Francois, Miss Lovell. I shall remember to relay this to him," Alex chuckled.

"Oh, I hardly think those praises are for Francois," George met her gaze with renewed challenge in his own. He'd seen her cards. And he wanted her to know that.

"Well, it is the Earl's efforts and the cook's hard work and passion combined that are pleasing our taste buds so, don't you agree, Your Grace?" She smiled sweetly, clearly accepting his challenge now.

George was enjoying this, he realized curiously.

"You flatter me, Miss Lovell," Alexander said.

"I merely state an observation, My Lord," she replied, giving George a sly smile as she spoke.

"On the contrary, Miss Lovell, I do agree that there is nothing a little hard work and passion cannot yield," George picked up from where he'd left off, refusing to give her the satisfaction of excluding him from the conversation.

Just then, Aunt Jane suddenly reappeared, seeking Alexander's attention. "Oh, Firman, I've been meaning to introduce you to Lady Ashbury. She joined us late last night," Jane said before whisking him away, leaving George alone with Miss Lovell.

They fell into an awkward silence as they continued walking until they came across a stall displaying various hand-crafted goods. Among them was an interesting painting of Aztec inspiration.

"Such fascinating patterns," Miss Lovell paused before the painting, her interest piqued.

"You have a good eye, My Lady," the stall owner, an elderly man who appeared to be in his seventies, complimented her with a warm smile.

"This should be Aztec," George supplied. "They are known to exploit such curiously intricate geometric patterns," he explained, his tone casual yet informative.

"The lines and shapes seem to jump at one, I could almost touch them," she remarked, looking positively captivated as she stared at the work of art.

"You like art, Miss Lovell?" George couldn't help but inquire, noticing her absorbed expression.

"Why, I positively adore it in all its forms," her eyes somehow shone with even more interest. "Sadly, I haven't the talent for it," she sighed, a note of regret in her voice.

"But a keen eye for good judgment, it would seem," the old man commended, and she smiled demurely in response.

"Such talent… So real…" She turned back to the painting. "The wet on wet cross-hatching brush technique tends to highlight the shadows and make the angles stand out," George explained further, his knowledge evident.

"You seem quite versed in this," she observed with a hint of surprise, her gaze flickering with new curiosity.

"One cannot help but pick up a thing or two if they indulge in a hobby for years," he responded with a modest shrug.

"Hobby?" She echoed, the perplexed look on her face dissolving into one of realization. "You paint!" She exclaimed, her tone a mixture of astonishment and admiration.

George nodded, confirming her guess even though it was not posed as a question.

"Now I feel envious," she declared, her expression as sheepish as it was impressed.

And George couldn't help but laugh at her bluntness, finding her candor refreshing. "How honest," he remarked with amusement.

"I've heard that a lot," she returned smugly, her confidence returning.

"And quite humble too," he laughed again.

"Indeed," she agreed.

She was good company. George had to admit that. The afternoon was uneventful, and more pleasant than he'd anticipated. When they returned to the manor, Alexander alighted before him and helped Miss Lovell down from the carriage.

"It's been a pleasant afternoon, Miss Lovell," Firman said as he kissed her knuckles. And she blushed—shamelessly too, George thought to himself, observing the scene with a mix of amusement and something he couldn't quite place.

"I should show you some of my works, Miss Lovell," George suddenly said. If the admiration he had observed about her earlier was genuine, this was bound to draw her attention away from Firman, he knew. And it worked.

"Oh, the paintings!" Her eyes lit up, reflecting a spark of genuine interest.

"You told her about the paintings?" Alex inquired, a slight furrow forming between his brows.

"She found out," George nodded simply, offering no further explanation.

"Oh, I should love a glimpse of them, Your Grace," she responded happily.

And for the first time, her demeanor was genuine. There was no defiance, no spite, no pride, or challenge about her whatsoever. Just pure earnest curiosity and anticipation. He found this just as appealing, for some reason, her enthusiasm drawing him in a way he hadn't expected.

The Baroness walked past them then, and when her gaze met her daughter's, she gave her the same look of disapprobation he'd seen earlier. The expression was brief but loaded, full of silent communication that Emma clearly understood.

Miss Lovell quickly averted her gaze, that anxiety returning about her once more. Strange.