The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Twenty Seven

Now a few weeks had passed and there had been a celebratorial bliss that passed around the family.

Angelica, Ginger and Belinha were in the orchards, picking peaches in baskets. The smell of ripe, juicy citrus wove all around her. The latter glimpsed the sun rising over the shrubbery in the gardens.

Something sparkled between the gaps and she peered through it with squinted eyelids.

"You have been delegated to maid duties now?" asked Ginger, unaware of her pause in work.

"I offered Mrs a hand with the dessert," she said, a slight distracted. "The Duchess and the Duke are sleeping in today. I believe they would like privacy."

Ginger giggled and Angelica warmed at the cheeks. Belinha was too busy beaming at the sun to really think through her words. The orange ball of warmth shone down on them and made the pink peaches look as though they were bloomed flowers.

As the younger maids spoke amongst themselves, Belinha ventured further in, basket full and balancing on her hip.

Turning the corner and down the narrowed path, she ducked her head under an overhead branch and burst through the bushes, displaying a beautiful meadow.

Clear blue water winked at her from across the pond and fresh uncut grass carressed her ankles. Insects buzzed and hummed in her ears.

The sun, a twinkling ball of fire, sat right above the tip of trees, in the picture of perfect scen—she gasped.

This was the idea. This was what she wanted to paint! She turned to race back to the manor only to falter at the figure already sitting under a large tree at the back, nearly hidden from view, if not for the canvas placed in front of him.

Lord Caldwell watched her from over the top of the stand, a grin slowly gracing his face when their eyes met.

"I was wondering when your wits would be about you," he said. He gestured to the scene with the top end of the paintbrush. "Beautiful, is it not?"

"Ethereal," she corrected, breathless. "This is what I want to paint. I was to come in search of you to tell you this when...well, you are already here."

This drew a deep chuckle from him and he motioned her over. "You look as you have been bowled over by beauty." He made space on the bench for her to sit. "Do not worry. Mother appointed Grayson to chaperone mainly to watch for my foot."

Glancing over, Grayson inclined his head in greeting at her, standing ways away near the bushes for the Marquess' privacy. This relaxed her, even just a bit, to know that they were not going against the rules where she would be the one endlessly punished.

"What do you feel?" he asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Huh?" an unladylike noise left her.

"About the view. What is it that you feel?"

She turned to look at it again, breath catching in her throat. She placed the basket of peaches down beside her.

"I feel...breathless. Like I cannot speak of God's beauty and the making of nature. It is so perfect. So magical. I do not think anyone could capture it even with words."

"Well, that sounds like a challenge! We will try to do just that, but with paint." He held out his palette and handed her his brush. She obediently took it, but her hands shook. He aimed to steady the objects rather than her hands, being the gentleman he was raised. "No need to be tense, Miss Price. There is no right or wrong in painting. It is all about interpretation and emotion. What you see and gather from this view may not be shared by myself."