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“I wasn’t offended.” Indeed, what he felt more than anything was confused. Their previous interactions had ranged from tense to merely uncomfortable. Yet, he’d offered to do her the favor of driving her to Loch Tev, and she was telling him some of her most personal concerns. “Seems we are a mutual confusion to each other just now.”
Her laugh was light and musical. The sound lessened some of the weight on his heart.
Conversation between them remained light and general as they continued on. He pointed out a few things as they passed, interesting aspects of the landscape or homes belonging to people he wasn’t certain she had met. She seemed truly curious about the area and appreciative of his help.
He brought the cart to a stop at the point where the road turned and afforded the very best view of the loch and surrounding hills.
She took in a quick breath. Her eyes darted about, taking in the scenery. “This is stunning.”
“Those of us from the area think so.”
“How is it you resist coming here every single day? I don’t think I could.”
When he’d first come to Teviotbrae, he had come to the spot more than once, touched by the beauty of it. “The home farm claims a great deal of my time. And I try to be helpful to the Teviotbrae families. That leaves little time for admiring the beauty of the area. And I assure you, there are other places at least as breathtaking as this.”
“I hope I have a chance to see them all.”
Miss Wakefield was soon situated in the area she thought best, with her easel set up and paints at the ready. Shadow wandered about, grazing in the vast meadow, seeming to enjoy herself. Sebastian sat himself on an obliging rock and studied the area as he hadn’t done in years.
It really was beautiful. He’d not taken the time to appreciate it in far too long. What little time he did have to himself he generally spent at Dalwyck, the humble but lovely piece of land his father had left him. It wasn’t terribly far from Loch Tev. If not for his grandfather’s firm insistence that Sebastian dedicate himself to working at the home farm, he might have made his home there.
“Did you have many opportunities for painting in London?” he asked Miss Wakefield as she worked.
“Yes, but nothing quite like this.”
“Do you enjoy painting as much as you do sketching?”
“Oh, yes. There’s something very soothing about it. For a time, all I need to focus on is what I’m recreating. All my other worries and concerns fade away.”
That sounded wonderful. “Is that why you wished to paint something today? To escape your worries?”
“In part. My primary reason, though, is somewhat related. I’ve never known any home but London, and I don’t imagine I will return there. I’ve decided that my best chance for Teviotbrae to feel like home is for me to know it well, to learn its hills and valleys, lakes and rivers. If I wander about these next few months or even years sketching or painting what I see, this may eventually feel as dear to me as the streets of London.”
He let his gaze wander to the loch and the hills and the lone lamb grazing nearby, then to Miss Wakefield. The clumsiness with which she’d wielded her battledore was utterly absent in the graceful expertise of her brush. The stiffness he’d seen in her posture and expression in the Burnwick House kitchen had been entirely replaced with a calm and focused serenity. Her art transformed her.
Sebastian found himself very much enjoying this side of her. And he was more intrigued than he was yet ready to admit.
