Page 6 of A Rogue to Reform

Sorcha Robertson gave him a questioning look. “Miss Murry stated that you were interested in the painting I did. As you may be aware, the ones hung in the hall are all for sale, to raise money for the local orphanage.” She motioned to the room he’d just walked from.

Before he could consider how Felicity could have managed to not only get past him, but also speak to the widow, he turned his attention to the woman.

When she offered her hand, he took it and kissed it. “Indeed. You are very talented.” He offered his arm. “Can you tell me about it?”

His mind raced with what to do. Without the funds to do more than look at the art piece, he could perhaps find a way to make it look as if he wished to purchase it, but not do so.

Allowing the woman to guide him, he kept an eye out to ensure neither Felicity nor the annoying Lewiston was about.

They stopped in front of an oversized framed art piece that, after a few moments, he decided was a depiction of a bouquet. Slashes of bright colors were accompanied with blobs that he supposed were as close to flowers as the artist could muster.

Evan blinked, scrambling for something kind to say. “Your grasp of color is astonishing.”

The widow’s lips curved, and she lifted a hand to her chest. “Thank you for saying that. I do love bright colors. They make me happy.”

“If happiness is the goal, then you have accomplished it with this…piece.”

The woman’s eyes moistened. “You are ever so kind.”

Just then the idiot Lewiston appeared, his eyes darting here and there in what Evan assumed was a search for Felicity, who was probably cowering in a closet by now.

He spoke in a loud voice. “Miss Murray was admiring this piece as well. She expressed how well it would go in her sitting room.”

Like a moth to a flame, Lewiston materialized on the opposite side of Sorcha. “Is this your work?” he asked her, pointedly ignoring Evan.

“It is.” Sorcha Robertson became animated at her art gathering so much attention. “I only completed it two days ago.”

“I must have it,” Lewiston announced. “Cost is no object.”

“We will bid for it,” Evan announced. “I have already expressed interest in it for my own home.”

“I will assure you that it will be me who wins the painting in the end. It will be a gift for a dear friend.”

Sorcha looked to Evan, her eyes wide. “You must get it. I would prefer you have it.”

Leaning to her ear, he murmured, “If I were to lose, I would hope to get time with the artist as a consolation.” With that, he strolled away, leaving the woman to suffer listening, and smelling, Lewiston’s explanation of why he would win it.

*

As the music piece ended, Evan spotted Grant escorting a young woman from the dance floor. He waited until his friend walked closer.

“Is that beauty to be your first target?” Evan asked.

Grant looked across the room. “No. Her mother is expecting courtship and marriage. Therefore, she is not to be my target. I danced with her because no one else was. Now she has a line of men vying for a dance.”

“Ever the philanthropist,” Evan said, noting that indeed the young woman was blushing prettily as several men circled.

Evan looked around the room. He would wait a while before approaching Sorcha again. “I was not aware your sister had returned.”

“Yes, she has. Why?”

“Because she has already annoyed me. She stuck her pert little nose in my quest for the widow. Going so far as to tell the woman I was interested in a dreadful art piece she painted.”

Grant laughed. “Sounds like my sister. Did it help?”

With a shrug, he had to admit that it did. “I suppose so.”

The next musical piece began, and both watched as Grant’s sister partnered with someone and danced. Her face bright with excitement, she moved with grace to the music.