Miss Pendleton was a lady who cherished friendship. Initially, the opportunity to become close to her arose from his intention to match her with one of her friends.

Miss Lance is Miss Pendleton’s close friend. Then, it might be possible to get close to Miss Pendleton again through Miss Lance.

He soon tidied his clothes and stood up. Then he went downstairs with Miss Janet.

In the reception room, Miss Lance, wearing a deep rose-colored dress and a wide-brimmed hat that looked like a tray on her head, was having tea with William. When Ian appeared, Miss Lance smiled brightly and extended her hand to him. He approached Miss Lance and kissed the back of her hand.

“My goodness, Mr. Dalton! You vanished from London without a word!”

“I apologize for that, Miss Lance.”

“And you’ve reappeared just as suddenly as you disappeared.”

Ian nodded and sat down on the sofa where William was sitting. Miss Janet gently sat down on the opposite sofa with Miss Lance.

Miss Lance began by expressing condolences for the pastor’s obituary and asking about life in Whitefield. Mr. Dalton answered everything she asked willingly. Impeccably courteous, but without wit, just stating the facts.

No matter how much she might be a bridge to Miss Pendleton, he was a man with little talent for entertaining ladies.

But Miss Lance, who was ready to listen to anything Ian Dalton said with fascination, laughed and enjoyed every word. Ian thought cheerfulness wasn’t a bad trait, but he was also puzzled as to why she was so delighted by his rental dispute that had even gone to court.

Either she’s a fool who finds everything amusing or she’s a bit slow. He thought dryly.

About 20 minutes passed, happy for Miss Lance and unbearably boring for Mr. Dalton. Ian tried his best to act like a gentleman she would like, but there was a limit to hiding his true nature, and his expression gradually faded. He began to feel tired of Miss Lance’s colorless laughter and nutritionless curiosity.

I just want to hole up in my room and chain-smoke. Ian thought, looking into his teacup.

“Mr. Dalton, you’ve returned at just the right time. This is the peak of the ball season, and soon there will be rowing competitions between Cambridge and Oxford. Oh, come to think of it, since Mr. Fairfax and Mr. Dalton attended different universities, you’ll each be cheering with your pride on the line.”

Mr. Fairfax interjected.

“No, I might, but Ian isn’t really interested in sports competitions. Even if Oxford beat Cambridge five years in a row, he wouldn’t hold the slightest grudge against me. He’d be more angry at being dragged out to watch a rowing competition in the first place.”

“How strange, I thought it was instinct for men to be obsessed with such things! Then what does Mr. Dalton enjoy?”

Ian took a sip of tea before answering.

“Mostly reading books or horseback riding. I lead an extremely uninteresting life.”

“He also draws! Miss Lance, Ian is an artist. He can draw things like pianos or vases exactly as they are in real life.”

Miss Janet chimed in to show off her handsome in-law. Miss Lance put down her teacup at this unexpected information.

“Oh my, you draw? At an artist’s level?”

Ian waved his hand, thinking it had become troublesome.

“No. Janet is exaggerating. I’m definitely not at an artist’s level.”

“No, Miss Lance. I saw Ian’s sketchbook last time, and he was better than the art teachers who come for lessons.”

“Janet, stop.”

Ian tried to stop Janet. But it was too late to dampen Miss Lance’s interest. She asked Ian to show her his drawings, and even when Ian refused, she asked again. Miss Fairfax, who was nearby, also started urging Ian to show his drawings to Miss Lance.

Ian became perplexed and looked at William, but William was just a bystander. For him, properly entertaining the visiting lady was more important than rescuing his friend from embarrassment. It was typical of William.

Finally, Ian had a servant bring down the sketchbook from his luggage.

The two ladies began to examine Ian’s sketchbook, putting their heads together. As they turned page after page, sketches filled with farmers plowing fields, livestock grazing in meadows, and young boys and girls who were his nephews and nieces unfolded before the ladies’ eyes.

The ladies let out exclamations. Those drawings were truly magnificent, born from accurate observation, delicate craftsmanship, and an affectionate gaze. To the eyes of the ladies, trained in art education since childhood, Ian Dalton’s drawings were flawless and excellent works.

While looking at the drawings, Miss Janet subtly observed Miss Lance’s expressions. Miss Lance’s eyes sparkled and shone with each drawing, and her cheeks gradually turned into a lovely rose color, as pretty as the dress she wore.

Miss Janet was elated that she was admiring the skills of Ian, who was residing in her house. Strictly speaking, Ian wasn’t part of her family, nor was he close to her, but somehow, she felt that if someone connected to her was impressive, it made her feel impressive too.

That’s why this seventeen-year-old naive young lady felt like she was floating on air when Miss Lance closed the sketchbook and made a request.

“Mr. Dalton, would you draw my portrait in this sketchbook?”

Ian, who had been waiting to quickly retrieve his sketchbook and leave, showed reluctance at her sudden request.

“I’d like to grant Miss Lance’s request, but I cannot take a lady alone as my subject. I’m not a professional portrait artist, so it might lead to misunderstandings publicly.”

“There are only four of us here, Mr. Dalton. If all four of us keep our mouths shut, no one will ever know the secret.”

“No. It might be fine for married women or young ladies before their social debut, but not for an unmarried lady who has already had her debutante ball. It will surely cause problems for your reputation, Miss Lance.”

Miss Lance felt extremely grateful to Ian for considering her. But she still wanted to have a portrait born from his hands. She became aware of Miss Janet sitting next to her and thought of a solution.

Miss Lance held Miss Janet’s hand tightly and pleaded.

“Then, please draw me together with Miss Janet. That would be alright, wouldn’t it? With the two of us, Miss Janet and I, my reputation would be protected, and Mr. Dalton could draw more comfortably.”

William came to Ian and whispered with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It seems Miss Lance is quite taken with you. Just draw for her. With Janet there, Miss Pendleton won’t misunderstand.”

Ian felt a headache coming on. He often drew pictures, but in his current mood, he didn’t even feel like picking up a pencil. However, Janet, excited at the chance to be in the same frame as Miss Lance, the flower of high society, started urging Ian.

Normally, Ian would have refused such troublesome service even at the risk of being rude, but he had no choice now. Miss Lance wasn’t just any lady, but a string that could connect him to Miss Pendleton.

He had a servant bring down the pencil case from his bag, then moved a chair with a backrest that was opposite the sofa where the ladies were sitting.

“I’ll only draw one picture, so you two figure it out. I don’t mind if you tear it in half to share.”

Miss Fairfax quickly said,

“Of course, the drawing belongs to Miss Lance.”

“Oh my, Miss Janet, how kind of you. Thank you. When I receive the drawing, I’ll hang it in the most visible place in our drawing room and show off Miss Janet’s beauty to everyone who visits.”

Miss Lance praised Janet in a sweet voice. Miss Janet blushed and savored her words.

To think that the drawing would be hung in the Lance family’s drawing room! That Miss Lance would show off her beauty!

She felt like screaming “Kyaak, kyaak” like a crow in excitement.

Soon the pencil case arrived, and he took out a pencil and knife, sharpening it matter-of-factly as if a farmer preparing his sickle before harvesting rice. Meanwhile, the two ladies touched up each other’s hair and brushed off their clothes, preparing to be captured on canvas.

Soon, Ian designated where the ladies should sit and the angle of their gaze. Then, with instructions not to move, he picked up his pencil. The two ladies looked at Ian with the most demure, lovely, and elegant expressions in the world.

Scratch scratch, scratch. The sound of graphite brushing against paper filled the reception room.

As Ian moved his pencil across the paper, William stood next to Ian, looking at his younger sister. Rosy cheeks and a lovely expression. He, who adored his sister very much, felt a subtle satisfaction thinking that Janet’s image would be eternally preserved in a single picture.

But Ian, who was actually drawing the picture, felt no satisfaction or emotion. For him, copying subjects that didn’t move his heart was the worst of ordeals. He had lived almost never mentioning his hobby of drawing to avoid such requests, but this was truly unfortunate.

The drawing was completed in less than 30 minutes. He held the sketchbook level and blew on the surface, scattering the graphite dust. Then he tore the paper neatly and handed it to Miss Lance.

The two ladies gazed intently at the drawing. Their images had been transferred onto paper exactly as they were, through the fingertips of a skilled artist. The ladies expressed their admiration.

“It’s wonderful, Mr. Dalton! I’ve never seen such a delicate and accurate portrait. Miss Fairfax’s dress pattern and expression are captured perfectly!”

Ian expressed his gratitude calmly. Miss Lance and Miss Fairfax held Ian for a while, wanting to convey their admiration for the drawing. But there was an appropriate time for tea time, so Miss Lance rose from her seat at the right moment to not violate etiquette.

William emptied one of the picture folders in the house to ensure Miss Lance could safely take the drawing home, and inserted Ian’s drawing into it. Miss Lance thanked the kind William and then invited the three of them to her house to see the drawing that would be hung in the drawing room. The three promised to visit soon and then saw Miss Lance off.

In the carriage heading home, Miss Lance opened the picture folder and looked at the drawing he had given her. His sketching skills were excellent. Such precise and clear expression could only be seen from professional artists.

She couldn’t help but be surprised to learn that Ian Dalton possessed such delicate abilities. There were many wealthy gentlemen in the world, but there would be no gentleman who combined such artistic talent.

Miss Lance quietly looked at the drawing and recalled how he had sketched her.

Under his black hair, his serious black eyes moved busily between her and the paper, and his large, slender hands copied each of her features, the folds of her clothes, and the shape of her hands onto the paper.

His eyes had touched every part of her, those black eyes. She felt her cheeks flush as she closed the picture folder. And she shivered lightly.

As soon as she arrived home, she took the best frame in the house, put the drawing in it, and hung it in the most noticeable place in the drawing room, as she had promised Miss Janet.

Every time she passed through the drawing room, she would look at the drawing. And naturally, she would recall him drawing her picture, and each time, she would quickly turn her eyes away from the drawing with a blushing face.