He looked down at the open sketchbook. She made no move to hide it from him. Richard saw the quick, elegant lines capturing the leisure of the afternoon: there was Mrs. Ashby reading under the shade of an elm tree; there was his nephew Thomas throwing a stick for the bounding spaniel; there was the carved stone basin of the fountain itself, rendered in beautiful detail.
And then Richard saw it: directly across from the fountain, exactly where he had been sitting in a wrought-iron chair for the better part of an hour earlier that afternoon, there was nothing. It was a glaring, deliberate expanse of blank paper.
She had possessed the time. She had the angle. She had the opportunity. She had simply chosen to erase him from her observation.
"You are capturing the party," Richard said, his voice tightening despite his best efforts to maintain his composure.
"Only the elements I find compelling today," Marian replied evenly. She did not sound hostile, nor was she inviting an argument. She simply closed the sketchbook, the heavy cover falling shut with a soft thud that felt oddly heavy in the quiet air.
She offered a polite excuse about checking on her aunt and walked away, her steps unhurried along the path.
Richard remained standing by the fountain, staring at the empty space on the bench. He had spent years controlling what the world could see of him. At the beginning of the week, the thought of being secretly observed had made him uncomfortable. Now, looking at the space where her attention had been completely withdrawn, he realized he hated the absence of her gaze far more than he had ever feared its presence.
He found her the next morning in the bright, airy space of the morning room. The double doors to the adjoining parlor were wide open, revealing Mrs. Ashby seated by a window, visibly engaged in her embroidery. The propriety of the setting was faultless.
Richard stopped a few paces from the small writing desk where Marian was organizing her drawing pencils. "I believe I owe you an explanation for my distance," he began, his voice low and carefully measured. "I realized my attention was becoming noticeable. I had no wish to place you in a difficult social position or subject you to unwarranted speculation."
Marian paused, resting her hands on the edge of the desk. She looked up and met his gaze directly. "I understand, Your Grace, and I believe you."
Richard felt a brief, hollow sense of relief, until she continued:
"But we both know that was not the only reason."