trying to change her, or form her opinions, or punishing her for disagreeing with him, but allowing her, for the first time in her life, to be herself.
‘Do you think worrying about what people might say, if they were to find out, is going to prevent me from making the most of it, while it lasts?’
‘No. I suppose not. But...you will be careful, won’t you? I don’t want you to get hurt.’
She spun round, on the verge of asking Fenella what she thought it was going to do to her when she left her to marry her French Count, and took Sophie away, if not wound her to the core? Sophie had become almost like a daughter to her, while she’d never had a friend as close as Fenella. If Fenella really didn’t want her to be hurt, she wouldn’t be obliging her to return to Stanton Bassett and bear the brunt of all the talk there would be, and suffer the pitying looks, the moralising and the unsolicited advice—alone.
But she bit her tongue. She mustn’t let self-pity or jealousy ruin what they could salvage of their friendship.
Jealousy? She couldn’t possibly be jealous of Fenella, having Gaston, could she? No the notion was absurd. She didn’t want a husband. She didn’t want any man to have the power over her that a husband would have, by law.
‘Thank you Fenella, for your concern,’ she said stiffly. ‘But I can assure you that I have no intention of getting hurt. This is the man who led me on, then changed his mind once before, don’t forget. I know not to trust a single word that comes out of his mouth.’
She’d taken great care not to let Nathan touch her heart. Her body, yes, and her mind. She’d found it liberating to be free with both. But she’d kept her heart safely encased in a block of ice which no amount of passion, no matter how hot, could melt.
‘Oh, dear,’ Fenella said again. ‘That sounds so very...’ She shook her head. ‘So very sad. To have no hope that things might develop...’
‘It is not the least bit sad. It is practical. I am not going to marry some man and let him wrest control of my life from me.’
‘Marriage is not like that. I’m sure Gaston will never attempt to control me.’
‘And has he informed you yet where he plans to set up home, once you are married?’
Fenella flushed and her face fell. ‘Actually, he has. He has a little property near Southampton which he says will suit me and Sophie very nicely.’
‘Southampton! The opposite end of the country from Stanton Basset. About as far away from me as he can take you.’
‘It isn’t deliberate. It isn’t as if he bought the place on purpose to keep us apart. He knew nothing about either of us when he bought it.’
Amethyst drew a deep breath. ‘I will make quite certain he does not keep us apart,’ she said grimly. ‘I had already toyed with the idea of moving away from Stanton Basset. After this trip, going back there would feel like going back to a cage. So I had thought about taking a place by the seaside. Southampton will be as good a location as anywhere.’
It eased all the hurt of hearing Fenella was going to live on the south coast when her face lit up.
‘Oh, that will be wonderful. I was a little worried,’ she admitted, ‘about how I would cope in a new town, all on my own. Because Gaston is going to be away quite a lot.’
‘Is he?’
‘Well, yes. He’s...he’s hoping to continue working as a courier for English tourists. So he can return to France again and again, until the matter of his estates is settled. You will give him a good reference, won’t you?’
‘Is that why he sent you to speak to me this morning?’ A cold sliver of uncertainty snaked through her middle.
‘Oh, no! He is convinced that you hate him. He is even a bit worried you might try to take some form of revenge on him for stealing me away from you.’
‘But you don’t?’
Fenella laughed. ‘Of course not! I know you better than that. You haven’t a vengeful bone in your body. You are all that is good,’ she said, pressing Amethyst’s hand affectionately. ‘Otherwise you couldn’t have let that man...Mr Harcourt...back into your life, could you?’
All of a sudden Amethyst felt like crying. Fenella’s faith in her was so touching. She was the one person who always chose to see some good in her, even when everyone else chose to think the worst.
She delved into her reticule for a handkerchief and blew her nose.
‘I suppose I shouldn’t mention him, should I?’ said Fenella. ‘It must be so difficult for you, having to bid him farewell and never be able to hope you will see him again.’
It was going to be a wrench, she couldn’t deny it. Nathan had made her feel...so alive.
‘I will always have the portrait to remind me of this time, though,’ she said, putting her hanky away.
‘You mean there really is a portrait?’
‘Yes. I’m going to view it today. And I’m going to buy it,’ she said decisively, ‘even if it is a bit of a daub.’
‘That is so like you,’ said Fenella, almost worshipfully.
‘Fustian! I won’t be doing it for him.’ Though she’d already decided she would find something complimentary to say about it, because he cared so greatly about his art. More than he cared about anything else in his life, if she’d read him aright. He’d told her, rather wistfully, when they’d first known each other, that he wished being a painter was an acceptable profession for a gentleman. But it wasn’t until these last few weeks that she’d realised that it was all he’d ever really wanted to do with his life. And now that his brief career as a politician had ensured nobody could possibly think of him as a gentleman any more, he was finally free to live the life he’d always dreamed of.
No, after all he’d done for her these past weeks, the way he’d made her feel, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him he didn’t have the talent, if that was the case.
‘It is just that the painting is a bit, shall we say, risqué. I have to ensure that it cannot fall into the wrong hands.’
‘Oh, my word. Did he paint you...?’
‘Without benefit of clothing, yes,’ she said, checking her appearance in the mirror one last time. ‘I shall most probably have to shroud it in holland covers and hide it away in the attics.’
She walked briskly to the door. ‘I hope you and Sophie enjoy your day. I shall see you...later.’ And with that, she left.
* * *
She was glad she’d gone prepared to speak with tact, rather than total honesty, when she saw how on edge Nathan appeared the moment he opened the door to her.
As she followed him through to the studio, she wondered at her decision to keep the painting, rather than simply burn it the moment she had the freedom to do so. She wasn’t normally prone to making decisions based on sentiment.
Although...it
