Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden

Author:Sarah M. Eden [Eden, Sarah M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2021-10-03T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Charlie couldn’t shake from his mind the image of Artemis so delightedly excited when he’d seen her in the corridor the afternoon before. Her entire demeanor had been light and natural and genuine. Her voice had rung with very real pleasure and excitement.

He had, in that moment, seen Artemis with no walls, no armor, no pretense, and his heart had yet to recover.

He’d watched her throughout the evening as she’d spoken with Father’s friend Mr. Layton. Though Charlie hadn’t been privy to their conversation, he could see she had enjoyed it. Genuinely enjoyed it, not merely making a show of being interested and entertained. Her expressions had ranged from intrigued to pondering to confident. There had been no theatrics, no feigned ennui, no hint of the actress she so often was. And she had thoroughly enjoyed herself.

He’d lain awake most of the night on the chaise longue, trying to make sense of the change in her, wondering what could be done to keep her from disappearing once more behind her defenses.

By breakfast the next morning, though, she was unreachable once more, indulging in dramatics and off-hand dismissals. He wanted her to be her true self, her real, unfeigned self. He’d seen that Artemis only in glimpses, and he missed her.

And so, after the morning meal, he went in search of the only person he knew who could bring out such happy sincerity in her.

He found Mr. Layton on the back terrace in light conversation with Mr. Barrington, the Gent who put Charlie in mind of so many of the dons at Cambridge. Mr. Layton, with his brightly colored, highly tailored clothes and exaggerated mannerisms, put him in mind of Philip. It made these strangers feel surprisingly familiar.

“Charlie.” Mr. Layton waved him over. “Come join us.”

Neither appeared the least put out by his arrival and interruption. He took a seat near them and dove directly into his inquiry. “What did you and Artemis talk about last evening?” he asked Mr. Layton.

The question had clearly not been expected.

“A great many things,” he said. “Nothing of terrible import.”

A frustrating answer. “She seemed to enjoy your conversation. Sincerely enjoy it. She very seldom does.”

“She doesn’t enjoy conversation?” Mr. Barrington asked.

“She does,” he said. “At least she goes to great lengths to appear that she does. She goes to great lengths to appear to be a lot of things.”

Both men eyed him with unmistakable interest and surprise. Only upon looking at them did he realize he had, in his exhaustion and desperation, allowed his tongue to run away with him. Without thinking, he’d spoken ill of his wife.

“What sort of rubbish husband manages to get everything wrong all the time?” he muttered.

“One with the surname Jonquil, in my experience,” Mr. Barrington said.

“Indeed.” Mr. Layton’s theatrics rivaled Artemis’s but were somehow less frustrating. Perhaps the difference was that he gave no impression of trying to hide behind his antics. It felt, instead, like a bit of entertainment. “I have made a petition to the Crown to create a medal to be awarded to any lady who endures being married to a Jonquil.

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