With a minimum of farewells and a promise to see each other soon, Jane left Robinsford Abbey and went round to the side of the house where Mr. Vincent painted and Melody watched.

As Jane walked across the neatly trimmed lawn, a breeze carried Melody’s voice to her. “Ah, you see. My sister comes to be my nursemaid and chaperon, as I told you she would.” She waved and raised her voice. “Jane! Do look at what Mr. Vincent is drawing.”

Noting that her sister made no move to perform introductions, and was unlikely to do so, Jane halted in front of the pair. “I am afraid that we need to return home for dinner.”

Mr. Vincent shut his slim, leather notebook and stood waiting for Melody to introduce them. His eyes were a warm brown, but they studied Jane without a hint of emotion—no compassion, disdain, or condescension marred his visage. Indeed, Jane had detected more interest in his expression when he was painting Robinsford Abbey than when he looked at her.

Melody wrinkled her nose. “Oh, do be reasonable, Jane, or you’ll have Mr. Vincent thinking that we dine unfashionably early.”

“I trust that Mr. Vincent, whom I have yet to meet, will understand.”

“La! He is standing right here. Don’t pretend you don’t know him.” She leaned toward Mr. Vincent and lowered her voice. “Jane spotted you out here first and was quite mad with curiosity about what you were painting. Don’t mind her concerns with propriety. She can sometimes be over-nice.”

Jane burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She had to hold herself quite still to control the urge to turn and march away, leaving Melody alone with this man.

“Miss Ellsworth, I am afraid that is all the introduction we are likely to receive.” His voice, which Jane only just realized she had never before heard, rumbled in his chest at the lower end of baritone. “What about my work made you curious?”

“Nothing, I assure you. My sister has confused my remarking on your presence with an interest beyond the commonplace. By the angle of your easel and the direction of your gaze, I surmized that you were painting Robinsford Abbey. I will defer any further interest until the piece is ready for showing.”

“And yet you had no compunctions about looking at my glamural at Banbree Manor.”

“I was invited to view it. I had no way of knowing it was in progress when I agreed.”

“And when you returned?”

Jane compressed her lips and raised her chin. “Clearly, I was in error to do so. If you will excuse us, Melody and I must be going.”

“I have no wish to detain you.” Mr. Vincent inclined his head in the briefest of bows, then returned his attention to his canvas as if they had already departed.

Without waiting to see if Melody was following, Jane gathered her skirts and crossed the lawn in the direction of Long Parkmead. She heard a few more words behind her; then Melody was by her side, breathless and laughing.