Page 60 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
She withdrew a paper and pencil from her travel bag and set to work sketching the folly. She had to look up every couple of minutes to reorient herself with the view outside, otherwise she might become ill, but the distraction made time pass more quickly.
“May I see what you’re working on?” Theodore asked.
Kate handed him the paper, feeling uncharacteristically shy about her work.
His eyes widened. “You’re very talented.”
“Thank you.” Her insides fluttered. “I’m no artist, but I enjoy re-creating the same subject across multiple mediums. For example, if I make a note of the colors present in the landscape around the folly, then I can later paint it or render it by needlepoint.”
“If you do so, you’ll have to show me. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she hid a smile as he passed the paper back, pleased by the comment. Surely his interest in her passions boded well.
They didn’t speak much during the rest of the day’s travel. The journey to Oxfordshire was too long to be made without stopping overnight, so they called in at an inn in a small town Kate had never heard of before. There was little more to it than a butcher’s shop, a blacksmith’s, and the inn.
When they were shown in, Kate took a moment to gather herself, certain that she was about to share her first night with her new husband.
Alas, she was taken to a separate room, and, except to join her for dinner, he kept his distance. She didn’t know what to make of it. Surely they ought to have consummated the marriage by now. She wasn’t entirely sure of the logistics, but Amelia had explained the basic details to her.
She didn’t dare raise the subject with Theodore. She wasn’t bold enough for that. Not upon such a limited acquaintance.
Thus, she kept her mouth shut.
Snow fell overnight and blanketed the earth, which slowed their travel the following day so that they only arrived at Blackwell Hall in the late afternoon.
She fell in love at first sight.
Despite the cold winter weather, the sun shone brilliantly overhead, making the building seem warm and welcoming. As Theodore had said, the place was constructed from brick and stone, and there was a winding road leading up to it covered in tiny yellow stones. Snow-covered lawns stretched in both directions and she could imagine how green they would be come spring.
The land around the Hall was flatter than she’d expected. Golden light danced over the shrubbery surrounding the lawn, which had been slightly flattened by the snow, and a few white clouds bobbed overhead.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, leaning close to the window to get a better look.
“It’s home,” Theodore said.
She supposed thiswasher home now.
It wasn’t a particularly elaborate building. There were no turrets or spires. And there was just something about it that made it feel like she wouldn’t have to stand on ceremony. Perhaps its attraction was in its simplicity. Sometimes the simplest things were the most beautiful.
Her fingers itched to paint it. She already knew what shades of color she’d like to combine for the surrounding scenery. She had a terracotta red that would be perfect for the brickwork, but she didn’t often paint stone—at least not basic gray stone—so it would take some experimentation to get that right.
The other carriage had no doubt arrived already, so it was possible that her paints had been unpacked in her new bedchamber. If she went straight there, she could capture this light before it changed, as good light inevitably did.
But… she had duties. She was the mistress of this home now. She couldn’t just ignore everything and do what pleased her. There would be time to paint later. First, she needed to meet the staff and explore the manor.
As they reached the stone-chipped area directly in front of the manor, she realized that she didn’t have any choice other than to begin her duties immediately anyway. The staff were already gathered and waiting. There were more here than there had been at the house in London, but that made sense considering the Hall was much larger and there were also extensive grounds and stables to be cared for.
Kate did her best to remember names as she was introduced to each and every person present, but there were a lot of them, so she focused on those members of the household she was most likely to interact with regularly. There was Mrs. Tubbs, the housekeeper, Mr. Giles, the butler, and Mrs. Franklin, the cook.
Mrs. Tubbs was a slight, thin woman with wild gray hair, eyes that looked slightly too big for her face, and a disposition much more pleasant than one would expect from looking at her. Mr. Giles was young for a butler, and Theodore informed her that he had replaced his father, who had retired only a few years earlier.
Mrs. Franklin was a ruddy-faced, plump woman, which Kate found promising. If the cook had had a similar figure to Mrs. Tubbs, she might have been concerned about the quality of the food served at Blackwell Hall. A plump cook was never a bad thing.
Once the introductions were made, all the staff except for Mrs. Tubbs were dismissed.
“Are you ready for a tour?” Theodore asked. “Or would you prefer some time to recover first?”
“A tour now, please,” Kate said.
