“Pardon me, sir,” Rebecca said and cleared her throat. “Is that spot reserved for anyone in particular?”
She motioned to the empty patch of grass beside him and he smiled at her.
“I was supposed to meet someone here, but it seems as though she has other obligations.” Thomas answered, playing along with her game.
“She must be the most foolish person I know to not meet with a fine man such as yourself,” Rebecca said, a grin on her lovely mouth.
“You are welcome to join me, if there is no reason for you not to,” he said.
“Oh, there are plenty of reasons why I should not, but I simply choose to ignore them,” she said and motioned to the maid to set up her easel beside Thomas.
He grinned at her as she patiently waited for the maid to finish, then she sat on the stool in front of the empty canvas.
“Your painting seems to lack something,” Rebecca said as she briefly studied his artwork.
He sighed, unsurprised another artist thought the same thing. “I know. My inspiration was stunted by the sudden arrival of my mother last evening.”
“Your mother? The Dowager Duchess is in Weymouth?”
“You know of my mother?” he asked with surprise.
“Not in the least, but I am aware of the titles of your family.”
“Does my family interest you?” he asked.
“Not in the least,” she said, and giggled. “Perhaps my words came across in the wrong manner.”
Thomas could not help but wonder whether she had purposely done so to avoid being found out as a liar, or to make herself look good in front of him. His jaw clenched as he scolded himself for even thinking of it, allowing his mother to affect him and how he perceived Rebecca.
“What troubles you, Thomas?” Rebecca asked suddenly.
He looked at her and sighed. “Many things.”
“I concur. My father allowed me out of the townhouse to sketch after three days of confinement. He is being rather unreasonable. He prohibited me from having any contact with you. And I am certain he also told you to stay away from me.”
“Indeed,” Thomas said with a nod. “My mother did the same thing, although she did not apprehend you in the manner your father did to me.”
“I sincerely apologise for that. My father—”
“Please, do not apologise. You were not at fault. Nor was your father. He was merely protecting you.”
“I do not need protection. I am a grown woman,” she said.
“Indeed,” Thomas said with a sigh.
He knew precisely how Rebecca felt at the hand of her father, as it matched his own feelings at the hand of his mother. Helpless and silenced to do as they were forced.
Rebecca began to chuckle in amusement and Thomas looked at her perplexedly. “Whatever could be amusing?”
“While I should be mortified and angry and upset that your mother wishes you to stay away from me and my father wishes me to stay away from you, I cannot help but laugh at the irony of it all. We did nothing wrong, after all,” she said.
“You did not tell him of the kiss, did you?” he asked.
“Did you?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Of course not. It is none of his concern.”
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Does your mother know?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Well,” Rebecca said with a scoff and shook her head. “Perhaps I should begin to refer to you as Romeo from now on. Clearly this resembles the tale of the star-crossed lovers too much.”
“I would rather you not,” he said with a furrowed brow. “I could not stand for us to end up like them. I would rather call you a sunbeam, radiant and beautiful and always out of my reach.”
A sweet and dreamy smile formed on her lips and she tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “And I shall call you my torrent. Strong and impactful, all-consuming.”
Thomas bit his bottom lip as the glow in her eyes set his soul alight, igniting the inspiration he’d lacked for the past few days.
REBECCA FLOATED INTO the townhouse with Connie following closely behind her.
She’d spent the entire morning with Thomas, sketching on the cliff, and the time together with him had been more than delightful. She’d missed him more than she’d realised. His presence, his voice, and his laugh. Her soul was happy once more. Of course, she could not disclose that to her father, but she would blame her good mood on the fresh air and the ability to sketch. Her father knew she adored the activity and hopefully he would not question her too closely.
Connie left her side to return her easel and art supplies to her bedchambers, and Rebecca quietly sashayed along the hallway, a smile on her lips, her heart light and her soul filled with happiness.
Despite Thomas informing her that his mother did not wish for him to spend time with her, she was not as offended by the proclamation as she thought she would have been. It was, in fact, quite thrilling and exciting to spend time with Thomas without their parents’ consent or approval. She would have preferred not to do so in secret, but it seemed as though it would be the only way they would be able to spend time together.
A door slammed loudly behind her, startling her and she whirled around. Her father stood in the doorway, appearing very much in an agitated mood.
“There you are, Rebecca. I was wondering when you would return,” he said.
“Is something the matter, Father?” she asked.
“I have been called to Finlay Hall.”
Her heart began to race in her chest. “Why, Father? What has happened?”
“I am not certain, but the request arrived a short while ago. The Dowager Duchess requires attending.”
Rebecca nodded. “I do hope she is all right, and that it’s nothing serious.”
“You and I will see when we arrive.”
“I beg your pardon, Father?”
“You are to accompany me. The Dowager Duchess requested it.”
Rebecca’s mouth dried almost instantly. “Why is that?”
