Page 38 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Chapter 13

Hattie had managed to slip out of the house without seeing either of her family members. She left the feeble excuse with her butler that she was heading out to paint in case Lucy or Jeffrey found the need to inquire, and that was certain to keep them off her scent for the better part of the morning, at least. She couldn’t imagine the lessons would last longer than that.

She walked through the woods, anticipation building the closer she grew to Wolfeton House. The smell of wet foliage and dirt clung to the air, and the earth was damp, her feet sinking into the ground with each step. The leaves were shiny from the rain they’d just endured and there was a freshness about the woods that could only be had after a rainfall.

Wolfeton House came into view and Hattie’s heart stuttered. It was too much to hope that the duke’s red-headed visitor would still be present. Given Bentley’s isolation, she felt she could be nearly positive that the stranger had come upon that particular road by accident. But she would inquire all the same. It was merely too much of a coincidence not to carry some meaning.

The door swung open as Hattie lifted her fist to knock, and Bentley stood in the doorway. He wore a hesitant look on his face, and he glanced behind her as he motioned her into the house.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice soft. “Good morning. Now come; we must not delay.”

She allowed him to usher her into his painting room, and he closed the door swiftly behind himself.

“When I mentioned that I would like to keep these lessons a secret,” Hattie said, “I had thought your servants would at least be made aware.”

“They are aware.” Bentley’s eyes were unfocused as he pressed his ear to the door. He managed to look sophisticated in his green and black waistcoat, despite a missing jacket and cravat. As always, his open shirt at the neck combined with his unshaven face made him appear quite the rake. She swallowed hard, looking away. Well, she wouldn’t know exactly what a rake was meant to look like, but she imagined it was this.

And Bentley was anything but. He looked at her. “I’ve got company,” he said gravely.

Could it be her red-haired gentleman? Tamping down her glee, she cleared her throat and did her best to look only slightly interested. “I thought you avoided people at all costs, Your Grace.”

“Some people cannot be avoided.” He closed his eyes, running his hand down his face. “No, I do not mean that. My cousin has come to stay. He does this every few years, between trips to his plantation in Antigua. I am quite glad to see him, even if his timing could have been better.”

Antigua. Hmm. She needed to ascertain if this cousin had plans to remain in England for good or if he would inevitably return to the Caribbean. But first… “If you are fond of your cousin, Your Grace, then what is the purpose of this secrecy?”

Bentley looked startled. “We agreed that no one would know of our arrangement.”

“But if he is staying in your house, it is inevitable that he should learn of it, is it not?”

He cast her a confused look before crossing to a long bureau on the other side of the room. “We might avoid that if we try. He is not here at present, actually. He went out for a ride. I found the timing to be fortuitous and directed him to Graton. He’d mentioned needing to purchase a new pair of driving gloves, and I can only hope that his ride will be extended.” Bentley shot her an unamused glance. “He didn’t take well to being kept inside the last few days with the rain.”

“Neither did I,” Hattie said with feeling. Already they shared something in common. This was looking quite promising indeed.

Bentley began pulling things from the bureau cupboard and lining them up on its countertop. “All the same, if our intention is to keep these lessons private, it is best that my cousin does not know of them.”

“Is he known as a gossip?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then perhaps it is not imperative.”

He turned and leaned against the bureau, folding his arms over his chest and casting a serious look her way. “Why do I sense that you want him to know of your presence here?”

There was something so comforting and trustworthy about the duke that made her feel as though she could tell him anything. Hattie crossed the room, clasping her hands tightly before her. Her gaze fell on the items Bentley had pulled from the cupboards. A flat stone, curved slightly in the center, sat beside vials of liquid and powders. “What are those?”

Bentley did not remove his gaze from her. “You wished to learn the art of making paint, yes? I figured I would teach you as I blended paints, and then I could use them to complete your portrait.”

“That does make sense.” She touched the rough stone square. “Is this where you blend them? What do you add to the oil? And what exactly do you use for the color?”

Bentley chuckled, reaching over her for a tall vial of yellowish liquid. “This is linseed oil, and we’ll mix it with the pigments shortly.” He lifted a bottle of indigo powder. “I’ve already ground the pigments, so it shouldn’t take too long after we’ve selected the right colors.”

She lifted a bottle of bright red powder and held it up toward the light coming from the windows. “Is that not a lot of work?”

“It is, but I enjoy it. This way I can mix the exact shades I want to work with. To begin, I ought to make the color of your skin today.”

Taking a bottle of white pigment and another of red, he uncapped them both, pouring a liberal amount of white powder on the stone and sprinkling in a bit of red.

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