Page 62 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
“Each garden is a different color when the flowers bloom.” Theodore stood and gazed out at them, his expression distant. He interlaced fingers behind his back, and she wondered if he was thinking of a time when this garden had overflowed with color and he’d shared picnics between the rose beds with his wife.
Her heart ached for him. It couldn’t be easy to lose someone you loved. Especially not someone you expected to walk through life with.
“This is really all there is to see.” He turned in each direction and then looked out toward the horizon. “There’s a pond a short distance away that’s likely frozen now. The gardens around that are lovely in spring.”
A pond. That sounded nice. Perhaps she could paint it come spring.
She moved closer to him. “Thank you for showing me. I look forward to seeing them when the seasons change.”
“Perhaps you can paint them,” he suggested, echoing her own thoughts and catching her off guard. She thought he was lost in a world of his own.
“I’d like that.”
He turned back to her, and their gazes caught. “I want you to be comfortable here. I know the situation probably isn’t what you imagined when you thought about getting married, but the world had other plans, and now we must make the most of it. If there’s anything you need—anything—please don’t be afraid to let me know.”
Touched, she rested her hand over her heart. “Thank you, Theodore. I think I’m ready to retire now.”
He escorted her back to the viscountess’s bedchamber, and she closed the door behind him.
She flopped onto the bed and shut her eyes. She was grateful the room had been cleared out, but she couldn’t help feeling like an intruder. Theodore had said she could change anything, but if she did so, would that be disrespecting Elizabeth's memory?
She sighed. Perhaps she had been wrong to insist on accompanying him here. Perhaps she’d been wrong about the entire marriage.
CHAPTER 20
Oxfordshire
December 1822
After a nightof tossing and turning, waiting fruitlessly for Theodore to come to her bed, Kate needed a distraction. One that didn’t involve him.
They shared breakfast, but then she excused herself, summoning Margaret and a footman to help her carry her paints, as well as a small canvas and an easel, to a drawing room that Mrs. Tubbs had assured her was rarely used.
The footman, Samuel, lay sheets on the floor so she wouldn’t drip paint on it, then set the easel in place. She offered him the paints she was holding, and when he took them, she repositioned the easel so that it faced the window, then took the canvas from Margaret and affixed it.
“Thank you both,” she said, grateful for the help. “It would have taken me several trips to get everything out here by myself.”
Samuel bowed. “It’s what we’re here for, my lady.”
She smiled at him. “You may return to your usual duties. I’ll send for help when I’m finished. There’s no need for you to waste your time standing here with me.”
He grimaced. “I don’t believe his lordship would appreciate me leaving you alone when you’ve only just arrived. You don’t know the household well yet, so I can help if you need anything you don’t have on hand.”
Kate’s teeth sank into her lower lip, and she considered arguing. Being alone would give her more space to work through her thoughts, but she didn’t want to get him in trouble with Theodore, and he was right in saying that she wasn’t yet familiar with the Hall here.
“All right. Thank you, Samuel. I hope I haven’t caused you any troubles by preventing you from tending to your other responsibilities?”
“No, my lady.” He ducked his head respectfully. “Lord Blackwell assigned me to you for any tasks you may need assistance with today.”
That was a relief. She’d hate to get off on the wrong foot with the household staff by interfering with their schedule right away.
She turned to Margaret. “Will you stay?”
“Yes, I’ll remain with you, my lady,” she said, her downcast eyes flicking in Samuel’s direction.
Kate frowned, intrigued. Did Margaret not trust Samuel enough to leave them alone together, or was the maid romantically interested in the burly young man? “Very well.”
Putting aside any questions about her maid’s love life, Kate pivoted to study the landscape. She took a pencil and lightly sketched an outline of the horizon as well as the road winding into the distance. Once she had a basic idea of the layout, she began layering paints to form a background of white, brown, and gray.
