He snorted in response. “The heat allows me to enjoy a cooling breeze more than I would were the temperature merely pleasant.”

“Then do you introduce imperfections deliberately in your own work?” Mr. Dunkirk sidled his horse next to the hedgerow, leaning over as if to see what Mr. Vincent drew.

“No.”

“No? You surprize me.” Mr. Dunkirk turned to Jane. “And you, Miss Ellsworth?”

“I do not. Were I ever to achieve perfection, my opinion might differ from Mr. Vincent’s, but it is a theory I am unlikely to have the opportunity to test.”

“Oh, but Jane, your portrait of Miss Melody is a perfect likeness. You have captured her in every way imaginable; even the glamour that you placed on the portrait makes her hair move in just the right way. Oh, Mr. Vincent, have you seen this portrait? Do you not agree with me?”

Mr. Vincent stopped with his pencil held over the page for a long moment. His tongue wet his lips. “Perfection is different to every viewer. I will agree that the portrait is a remarkable likeness.”

“But not perfect?”

Jane could stand no more of this. “You flatter me, Beth, but it is not perfect. Do not press Mr. Vincent any further. I assure you that I know of several answers that he could make to explain how it is lacking, and we have kept him from his drawing quite long enough.”

Mr. Vincent closed his sketchbook. “Not at all. This has been a stimulating conversation.”

In response, Mr. Dunkirk bowed his head. “It has indeed. If you are finished here, then perhaps you would care to join us at Robinsford Abbey to continue it?”

“Thank you. I accept.”

Jane twisted the reins in her hands as Mr. Vincent clambered over the fencerow. “Alas, I am afraid that I must decline. I am expected at home and have left my mother alone too long.”

Though the Dunkirks protested, Jane felt that spending another minute as a subject of comparison to the talented Mr. Vincent was intolerable. She kept her face placid, though, and focused on her concern for her mother. Mr. Vincent agreed to meet the Dunkirks later, after they saw Jane back to Long Parkmead.

Leaving Mr. Vincent at the fence, they turned the horses to Long Parkmead, impressing Jane with the speed by which they were able to cover the distance between their two estates. It felt as if no time had elapsed between her stated interest in returning home and when they arrived at the sweep.

Mr. Dunkirk dismounted to hand Jane down from Daisy. She felt as light as an infant as he almost lifted her from the saddle and set her on the ground. Standing on her own, she felt heavy and stiff.

“I trust we did not discomfit you.” Mr. Dunkirk pressed her hand, his voice low. “My sister is too forthright at times.”

“You need have no concern.” The sound of her heartbeat rang in her ears. Jane turned to Beth, lest she be overcome by his closeness. “May I call tomorrow?”