Page 37 of A Misguided Devotion

Staring? Kitty hadn’t even noticed. She’d been so busy conversing with him as he painted. Except when he’d complimented her ankles.

Her friend shuddered. “It makes me feel as if I’ve got two heads or I put my dress on the wrong way around.”

“I’m surprised you’re not used to gentlemen ogling you. It is the price you must pay for being so pretty.” Kitty heard the bitterness in her tone and endeavoured to soften it. “It’s not unreasonable, Laura. How else is he going to paint you?”

“I would rather he didn’t.”

Though much inclined to scold Laura’s stroppiness, Kitty knew she owed it to Hugh to ease the creation of this portrait. “It’s for your father, Laura.”

“I know. He came to my bedchamber and practically dragged me down to breakfast to ensure I didn’t miss another day’s sitting. It’s not fair. I would prefer it if Mr Merry painted you.”

A sharp retort entered Kitty’s mind, but she restrained it. Laura seemed oblivious to the fact that nobody would want to paint her companion. She tried again to encourage her friend to cooperate.

“Why don’t I read to you? It will help the time pass more quickly.”

“What an excellent idea.” Laura moved to one of the bookcases lining the room and perused the shelves. “Let’s choose a novel. That should bore Mr Merry.”

Kitty wondered if it would. With four sisters, she assumed he must have heard a fair number of such stories over the years.

Laura pulled out a selection of volumes and piled them into her friend’s arms before resuming her position in front of Mr Merry’s easel.

Discarding two Gothic romances, Kitty chose Coelebs in Search of a Wife. The moral tone of the book was such that not even Mr Barrington could object. She bit back a smile. Perhaps it might persuade Mr Merry to think more deeply about what he wanted in a bride—other than a pretty face.

Kitty picked up the first volume. She would rather have watched the artist paint, but reading aloud would be preferable to listening to constant moaning. Especially since it was always directed at her, as Laura still refused to address Mr Merry except when absolutely necessary.

The sound of Kitty’s voice seemed to have a calming effect, and the next hour passed with little complaining.

“Shall we take a break?” Mr Merry asked. “Even my arm needs the occasional rest.”

Laura jumped up. “Yes, indeed. That is enough for today. We can continue tomorrow.” Abandoning Kitty, she glided out of the room without a backward glance.

He exuded a heavy sigh as he cleared away his painting equipment. “Not the rapport I choose to have with those I paint. How will I ever get this portrait finished?”

Kitty felt a burst of compassion. The man didn’t deserve Laura’s poor treatment of him.

“Be patient. I’m sure with gentle encouragement she’ll come around. You have her father’s support, and that holds great weight with her.”

Her words were met with a grunt.

“May I see how you’ve progressed today?”

“If you think it’s worth your while.”

Kitty walked around the easel. Her eyes widened as she saw part of Laura’s face staring back at her. It was nowhere near finished, and yet it was most definitely her friend.

“What you have done so far has captured her exactly. Perhaps not a common artist after all,” she said with a half-smile, hoping to cheer him up.

He waved his hand toward his easel. “Her eyes are not right—and if the eyes are not right, the entire portrait will fail. I need to portray the expression that first captivated me. It was like that perfect moment at sunrise when the light hits the horizon and the sky is awoken with glorious streaks of gold.”

The reverence in his tone made Kitty feel like crying. How blessed Laura was to generate such devotion—and she didn’t even want it. A little voice inside her whispered she would respond differently if she were the object of his devotion.

Her breath caught. What was she saying? Mr Merry was selfish and annoying, but extremely talented, and Laura was being so difficult that Kitty wanted to comfort him. That’s all it was. She felt sorry for him. But something told her it was not pity that had threatened her with tears.

Are you developing feelings for him, Catherine Bruce? Because it will not do. He would never look at someone like you. Hasn’t your heart suffered enough without putting it through more? It is much safer not to hope.

With a few words, Kitty excused herself and fled the room. She must guard her heart. It would be beneficial to remember how self-centred Mr Merry could be. How arrogant and careless of others’ feelings. Above all, she needed to avoid being alone in his company.

Deprived of his model, William spent the afternoon out on the cliffs behind the house, sketchbook in hand. It was hard to find any enthusiasm to draw the sea or the ruins of Rufus Castle when Miss Barrington’s face was imprinted on his mind.