Read Online Passion Wears Pearls by Renee Bernard - Free Book Online

set her hatbox aside, and just gently gathered her hands into his. She sobbed against his shoulder, sagging against him as the storm of her emotions took over. He said nothing, unsure of how to comfort her beyond softly squeezing her hands and doing his best to keep his attentions as brotherly as possible.
    “You aren’t ruined,” he told her, his own heart starting to ache in concert with hers. “Far from it, Miss Beckett.”
    She sniffled a bit, the tears finally slowing, and pushed away from him, her cheeks stained with embarrassment. He released her instantly, retreating back to his side of the carriage to allow her to regain her composure. She was such a prim thing, in her bedraggled bonnet, clutching her jewelry box like a drowning woman would clutch at a life preserver. “Ruined or not, crying won’t help and I intend to stop.”
    He nodded and held out the spare handkerchief he’d found earlier in his coat pocket. “Here. Take it.”
    She took it from him, careful not to touch his fingers. “Thank you.”
    He waited until she’d dried her cheeks and seemed steadier. “I may be able to help, Miss Beckett, with the matter of finding honest work.”
    “Truly?”
    Tread carefully, Hastings, or she’ll bolt from this carriage and you’ll never see her again.
    “Truly.” Josiah decided that there was nothing to do but plunge ahead and hope for the best. “As for introductions, let me see if I can do better. My father is a titled country baron, and I say this only to reassure you that I come from a good family and had a fair enough upbringing to appreciate how difficult it is to forfeit respectability. I am a third and last son and the youngest of my siblings; together we number seven.”
    “Oh my!” She sighed. “I always wanted a sister, but you have four!”
    He shook his head. “Yes, but here is where honesty must be applied. Miss Beckett, my family no longer claims me. I haven’t seen any of them for several years. I was tossed out of the house when I turned nineteen because I had announced an intention to pursue my painting as a profession.”
    “Painting?” Her brow furrowed at the unexpected revelation. “You are a … painter?”
    “Much to the lament of my father, yes.” He waited a moment as she took it in. “Are you shocked, Miss Beckett? I can promise you, it’s hardly the wild and wanton life that most people imagine. It’s …” He struggled for the right words, wanting more than anything to make the muse perched on the carriage seat across from him understand. “It is hard to describe without sounding like an overzealous child, but I paint because I love it—the challenge of it, the craft, and even the frustrations. They’re a part of me, as other men are inspired by the sciences or commerce.”
    “You’ve been so generous to me, a stranger, and I’m stillamazed at it. But are you not poor, Mr. Hastings?” she asked shyly, and he surmised it was out of fear that she’d added to his burdens somehow with her own troubles.
    “No. Unlike so many artists, I’m not starving in my quest for beauty.” He smiled. “Not that this has softened my family’s opinions.”
    “How terrible! Success or failure, can they not be more supportive?”
    “When I had no interest in the clergy or the law, as far as my father was concerned, to be a painter is to be a professional layabout.” Josiah shrugged. “I never was eloquent enough to explain to him what it meant to me to paint. It’s as essential as breathing, and when I was young, I was sure that I was just a few paint strokes away from immortality—and, ultimately, redemption in my parents’ eyes. Exile was a fleeting threat and a small price to pay.”
    She nodded, and he took it as an encouraging sign.
    “But it doesn’t matter how far I’ve traveled to prove myself or how my fortunes have improved. I no longer strive for anyone’s approval, Miss Beckett. But I do still strive for immortality, as vain as that sounds. I