His admiration was too much. But he’d not act on it. She strained to see the sincerity in his eyes and was rewarded with it a hundred-fold. Why did he not see the need to hide his feelings as she did?
“I’m sorry, Miss Montague, but it’s time to submerge yourself, once again.”
Faith put her hand in his palm as he helped her into the bath. It was a curiously intimate gesture, and she imagined herself suddenly stepping into a bath as most ladies did, without clothing. Did he, also? Is that why he blushed?
She hadn’t meant to immerse herself so quickly that her skirts skimmed up to her thighs before she was able to smooth them.
Lady Vernon would have been pleased to have caught the flare of desire in his bright, blue eyes, but it was not what Faith sought right now. Not now that she’d sworn off the plan.
The plan.
What should she do? What could she do? She caught Lady Vernon’s eagle eyes upon her and said, “Is this the effect you were hoping to achieve, Mr Westaway? Will you want me to wear this dress tomorrow?” She smiled up at him. “Did you choose it?”
“There was a certain stiffness to your previous attire that did not accord with the vision I had in mind.”
“So, you did choose it!” She sounded as delighted as she felt, even though she knew it was unwise.
“I went into the village and sought the offices of a dressmaker who knew exactly what I was talking about. She also happens to be a proponent of the Arts and Crafts movement, and she had a loose-flowing gown she’d made for herself that just fitted the bill. I’m delighted it suits you so well.”
“And I’m delighted you have such a good eye, Mr Westaway.”
He smiled warmly. “I’ve always spied out quality, Miss Montague.”
“And where is Lord Delmore today?” she asked as Mr Westaway slid behind his easel and picked up his paintbrushes.
“Do you miss him?”
She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Should I? I thought he was being instructed by you in the art of painting; that he was thinking of dabbling in painting himself and that was why he was always with you.”
“I think you misunderstand his motives, Miss Montague. Now, if you could stretch your neck a little. Yes, that’s right, you have a very beautiful neck, and the dress shows that to perfection.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to start the painting again?”
“Only in the close-up of you and it won’t take too long to alter. I’ll be finished by the deadline in three days.” He paused. “I will need you to suffer spending a little longer in the bath today, though. I hope you won’t be too cramped. I promise I’ll work as quickly as I can.”
“Of course.” Faith stretched her limbs and pointed her toes. The iron tub was enormous, and she could float freely. It was quite liberating, though she’d have enjoyed it more if the water were a little warmer.
“Lady Vernon, are the candles lit beneath? It’s a little cold.”
Lady Vernon did not seem impressed. “There are five candles burning, Faith. Please don’t complain. Mr Westaway has work to do, and you mustn’t keep interrupting.” She rose. “This is no place for an old woman with arthritic limbs. I shall fetch Molly to sit in.”
Mr Westaway didn’t try to fill the silence when she’d gone. Nor did he seem to notice that Molly had not come to take Lady Vernon’s place. He seemed intent on his painting, the brush moving rapidly now, his face with a mask of concentration.
The min
utes ticked by leaden and slow for Faith, who was feeling the cold seep into her bones and feared asking Mr Westaway to relight the candles which had gone out some time ago.
She shivered, and her teeth chattered.
Surely, he’d notice and come to her rescue.
The light began to fade outside casting long, gloomy shadows across the room.
Still Mr Westaway worked, completely absorbed. In fact, never had Faith seen him so animated as his brush flew across the canvas. She dared not interrupt.
In the depths of the house, the grandfather clock struck seven o’ clock. Faith had been in the bath for two hours. She tried to breathe, but was shivering too much.
She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.