Page 33 of The Dreaming Beauty
Marcus liked Tansy, had desires about courting her, but he was in no position to stake any claim. And his mother had always made it clear that Simon would suffer if he did not marry first. As Marcus studied his brother, he wondered if declaring his feelings would only make Simon feel competitive. It wasn’t that he believed Simon had lied, but the man was predictable in many ways. His heart was good, but his motivations were often misplaced. Simon did what he wanted and cared not for the consequences. Marcus couldn’t say whether Simon’s brotherly loyalty could break years of bad habits, but he could not risk hurting Tansy.
“Are you thinking about your brother or that woman?” Simon asked, his lips curling into an amused grin.
“Both.”
“And?”
Marcus turned back in his seat, hoping he was making the right decision. “I am not in love with Miss Tansy.” No, he was not in loveyet, but he was probably close. And there was no denying the attraction he felt. He cleared his throat. “But I will insist you treat her well. From the little I know of them, she and her aunts are sweet innocents. I will join you tomorrow for your lesson and help entertain the aunts so the two of you can paint without interruption.”
It was Simon’s turn to study him.
“What?”
“Nothing. I am merely fascinated that you could write off such a beautiful woman so easily. But who am I to complain?” Simon stood and crossed to the door. “In fact, I should thank you.”
“Why is that?” Marcus dipped his pen into the ink and put the tip to his paper, ready to record the dream Tansy had told him about.
“Today I decided something. I think it’s high time this house had a duchess.”
The tip of Marcus’s pen broke under the pressure he’d put on it, and ink pooled on the page. He whirled around, but Simon was gone. The air in the room seemed to leave, and Marcus sat without moving for several minutes.
Simon had fought their mother time and again on the subject of marriage, so this sudden change of heart would normally be reason to celebrate. For a long time, Marcus and his mother had felt a wife would root Simon like nothing else would. Still, this new decision had been made the same day Simon met Tansy. And suddenly Marcus viewed his conversation with his brother differently. Simon had been feeling Marcus out to see if he should proceed with his plan, and Marcus had practically given him the go-ahead.
He blotted the excess ink on his paper, finally tearing the damaged page entirely from the book. He picked up his pen again and fingered the broken tip. First his pencil tip during his interview with Tansy and now his pen, and both in a matter of weeks—surely they were an outward sign of his inner weakness. Maybe this new development of Simon’s was a good thing—regretful in some ways, but good. Simon could marry and Marcus would finally be able to live his life free from the burdens of his family. He could only hope his brother could deserve the woman he chose.
And if he chose Tansy... well, Marcus would have to be all right with it, wouldn’t he?
* * *
Tansy ran her hand over the fine brushes, wondering how much they had cost. The setup on the lawn of easel, canvas, and collection of paints was most impressive. And Ashbury Court provided an idyllic country scene with an abundance of charming subjects, from heady-scented blossoms and lush greenery to the house itself.
His Grace tilted his head and examined her, his leisurely smile proving she was the only one, out of the two of them, who was nervous. “What do you think? Will it do?” he said.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t start on cards? I would hate to ruin a canvas of this size.”
“No, cards are for experts who can make the most of a small space. This size is perfect for what we are doing.”
She almost laughed, as she had always thought the opposite. But the duke’s gaze was too attentive, too interested in her and not their project, and her laugh died on her lips. “And what is it we are doing?”
“Painting.”
Tansy smirked. “Yes, but what are we painting?”
“I want you to decide. What do you prefer: landscapes or people?”
“Landscapes. People scare me.”
The duke tilted his head and smiled. “Surely not all people. Do I scare you?”
She turned her head away, biting back her own smile. While he was pushy, she also sensed his eagerness to please her. “A little.”
“Why? Because of my title, my authority as your teacher, or my charm?”
Mr. Taylor looked over at her from where he sat with her aunts in lawn chairs under a shady tree near the house. Would he care that his brother was flirting with her? She turned back to His Grace. “I cannot choose one specifically, but I will try to get over it so I might be a good student. I promise not to waste your time.”
“Waste my time?” The duke clucked his tongue. “You are the only thing here worth my time.”
She was not used to such open flattery, and warmth flooded her cheeks.
