Page 22 of A Misguided Devotion

William had seen her a handful of times since, but only for a few moments. As soon as he approached, she retreated inside the gate, no matter what he said. The effortless charm that had served him so well in the past seemed to have no effect on his Venus. At this rate, he would be forced to rely on the sketches he’d made from memory, if he wanted to capture her likeness.

He was running out of time. His portrait of Mr Penn would be finished by the end of the week, and if he couldn’t make her listen to him by then, he would have to adopt different tactics. He must paint her. Any other consideration was immaterial.

William had almost given up hope of seeing her that day when he heard the familiar rattle of the door latch and the gate in the wall opened. He held his breath as his Aphrodite slipped through the archway. The sun glistened on her bonnet, making her profile seem more like that of an angel than a woman.

Would she stop long enough for him to sketch her face this time? Determined not to frighten her away, he kept silent. If he stayed where he was, maybe she wouldn’t notice him, and if she ventured out on her own, he could follow her.

It was a vain hope. Miss Barrington saw him at once and glared at him. Tossing her head back so that her chestnut curls cascaded around her face, she moved along the path toward the slope down to Church Ope Cove.

William was about to set off in pursuit when another woman, taller than his muse, stepped through the doorway and hurried after her companion.

Had Mr Barrington got wise to his daughter’s wanderings and provided her with a chaperon? His parents would do so if his sisters behaved like that.

Not that Charlotte would, but Eliza had frequently carried on in a less than respectable manner before her marriage. He grinned as he recalled how often he’d helped her to masquerade as a man, but his smile faded, soured by the recollection of how his father had raked him down for his part in risking his sister’s reputation.

But William had not expected him to approve. Father seldom approved of anything he did these days.

His thoughts flew back to his Venus, who had disappeared from view. The two women had taken the steep path down to the sea. It was the first time Miss Barrington had ventured outside her garden gate since their initial meeting, and chaperoned or not, that gave him the opportunity to charm her. Maybe having a companion was not such a poor development.

A wicked smile crept onto William’s lips as he followed them down to the beach, cutting off any way of escape. She would be forced to listen to him praising her beauty now, and that must soften her toward him. What woman didn’t succumb to vanity in the end?

His long legs strode down the slope after the two ladies, his eagerness to get close to his muse speeding his progress to such an extent that by the time they were halfway down the path, he was almost upon them.

The taller female lagged behind, less used, he guessed, to the uneven surface than her companion. He could only see her back view, but the plainness of her dress and bonnet suggested she was not his beauty’s equal in status.

The woman stumbled, and on instinct, William leapt forward and shot out a hand to steady her, to prevent her from falling. She swivelled around at his touch, and he found himself being appraised by a pair of keen eyes, the colour of the sea on a winter’s day, when the blue has almost turned to grey.

When he widened his gaze to take in the rest of her appearance, he experienced a stab of disappointment. The fine eyes sat in an otherwise unremarkable countenance. Her complexion was poor, and her forehead showed a few tell-tale indents suggesting she had been the victim of smallpox or some other disease that had ravaged her skin. Her dull brown hair was pulled back from her face in a style that emphasised her overly small ears, and her lips were rather thin—though that might have been because they were pursed in disapproval.

No, this woman was not her equal in more ways than one.

She murmured her thanks and hurried after Miss Barrington. William matched his pace to hers, ready to offer his aid if she stumbled again. It would do him no disservice to win her goodwill and could ease his path to her friend.

When he reached the foot of the slope, he found the two women had moved to one side of the shingle beach, away from the jetty, where men worked on their boats. This was his chance to plead his case.

“Good afternoon, ladies. What a charming picture you make, staring out to sea.”

Miss Barrington linked arms with her companion. “Don’t desert me, Kitty.”

The fine pair of eyes he had earlier admired turned upon him, but there was no longer any warmth in them. “Please leave us, sir. You are distressing my friend.”

A flicker of guilt coursed through his body. Was it selfish of him to pursue the beauty when his attentions bothered her?

With practised ease, he dismissed it. “That is not my intention. I ask only to be allowed to gaze upon her loveliness, as any humble admirer would crave.”

“To gaze does not require speech.”

“True, but I wish to know her better.”

“You are acting most improperly, sir. A gentleman would not approach a lady to whom he has not been introduced.”

William felt the barb. The woman had the right of it. He should have requested an introduction when he first asked Mr Penn about her, but he had been reluctant to do so if he could find another means.

Except for the Governor, no one knew he was on Portland. Everyone would assume he had followed his grandmother to Plymouth, and William was keen to keep it that way. He wanted to paint his muse in peace. Without his interfering family and the weight of duty. And without having to fend off any matchmaking mothers or their daughters.

“I swear my intentions are honourable. I only wish—”

“Pray, do not swear anything to us.”