The Accidental Countess (Accidental #2)(46)

He made his way past the rows of deep green palms and bright flowers to the center of the conservatory. One of the servants had informed him that Lady Worthing had been seen coming in here a bit earlier. Laughter reached his ears. He turned a corner around a large pear tree and came into a clearing near the iron bench. Patience was there with her watercolors set up again. Only this time she was drawing Miss Wollstonecraft and Garrett Upton. Luckily, Lady Worthing was with them.

“Be certain to paint her book,” Upton was saying to Patience.

“I’d like to put my book—” Miss Wollstonecraft began.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Upton replied. “Don’t forget our bargain.”

Miss Wollstonecraft’s eyes narrowed but she snapped her mouth shut.

Lady Worthing burst out laughing. “Now this is positively delicious.”

“What are you reading this time, Jane?” Upton asked. “How can you stand all those books that end happily?”

“The good end happily and the bad, unhappily. That is what fiction means, Upton,” she retorted.

“Mr. Upton,” he replied with a grin.

Julian watched them closely. It appeared the four of them were close friends, indeed. Miss Wollstonecraft opened her mouth to reply. Not wanting to eavesdrop on their conversation, Julian stepped into the open space and cleared his throat.

All four of them turned to face him. Patience met his gaze and quickly looked away, turning her attention back to her painting.

“Ah, Captain Swift. Good to see you. We have some wonderful news for you,” Lady Worthing called, motioning for him to come closer.

Julian made his way over to the little group. “What’s that?”

“Why, your intended will be arriving this afternoon. I received a letter from Penelope this morning saying as much,” Lady Worthing replied.

Julian closed his eyes, relief flooding him. Lady Worthing was correct. He couldn’t have asked for better news. “I am glad to hear it,” he replied. He glanced at Patience, her pretty blue eyes clouded, but still she didn’t look at him. Damn. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be awkward between them but it was. Of course it was. She’d wanted him to kiss her last night, and he’d refused her. And blast it if she didn’t look beautiful today in a pretty yellow gown with tiny flowers embroidered upon it. She looked just like one of the blooms in the conservatory, as if she belonged here.

“May I?” he asked, motioning toward the painting she was working on.

Patience nodded.

Upton stood and made some excuse about needing to see to his horse, something about the animal’s hoof. Lady Worthing and Miss Wollstonecraft quickly made their excuses as well, and within a few moments, Julian found himself completely alone with Patience in the conservatory. He wondered at the others’ simultaneous abrupt departures. Had Miss Bunbury told them what had happened between them last night? Surely not. At least, he hoped not.

He drew in a breath and made his way behind her to look at the painting just as he had the other day. The work was clearly not finished but Patience had done a remarkable job of it so far. Miss Wollstonecraft’s pretty face was outlined in blue. Her spectacles and book were both there. Patience had managed to capture a certain look on the woman’s face, partly mischievous, partly intelligent. Upton was there, too, sitting next to her. She’d rendered him nearly lifelike, even down to the slight curl of his hair that Julian had not noticed before.

“It’s striking,” he said quietly.

“Thank you.”

“You all seem to be quite friendly. Even Upton.”

She hesitated. “I’m … I’m quite close with Lucy and Jane.”

He nodded. “I’m close with Derek Hunt, the Duke of Claringdon. Do you know him?”

Patience closed her eyes briefly. “Who hasn’t heard of the famous Duke of Decisive?” she murmured.

Julian laughed softly at that. “Yes, he is that. He’s gone to the Continent at the moment. He’s looking for my brother and our good friend Captain Cavendish.” Why was he telling her all of this? Miss Bunbury probably didn’t care, but anything to keep the conversation from the awkwardness of last evening. “The rest of my friends seem to have died in the war, I’m afraid.”

She searched his face, looking as if she wanted to say more, but instead she pressed her lips together and set about putting her brushes away and gathering up her canvas. “I hope the duke finds your brother. Are you close to him?” she asked. “Your brother, I mean.”

“Not as close as I’d like to be,” Julian answered simply. It was true.

“I … I’m quite sorry to hear that,” Miss Bunbury said.

“I am, too. As soon as I speak with Penelope, I intend to go in search of Donald and Rafe.”

Miss Bunbury went pale. She pressed her hand to her throat. “You’re going back to the Continent?”

“Yes.”

“But … but you nearly died. You cannot put yourself in such danger again.” She reached for him. Her hand grasped his sleeve. Her fingers were shaking.

Julian moved his hand to cover hers. “Your fingers are cold.”

“I know.” She didn’t break their eye contact.

Julian squeezed her fingers with his, willing heat to return to her hand. He studied her face. Her reaction had been so genuine, so intense. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she had tears in her eyes. Miss Bunbury was quite sensitive, it seemed, sensitive and caring. Could it be that she’d developed such a tendre for him in only a few short days?