“Not quite. You remember from our last meeting that the ceiling would be the most laborious part of the renovation?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Mrs. Carlyle thought to move it to the forefront of our list. It will be the most expensive, of course, but I believe she’s correct. It would make little sense to start on the fireplaces since the summer is upon us.”
“But I had planned to hire servants this autumn,” he stated, looked at Louisa.
“And you still well could, lieutenant. The roof, if started on immediately, should only take two months. That will leave a good portion of the summer to finish the fireplaces and come early autumn, Mrs. Carlyle thought to add wallpaper to each of the servants’ rooms.”
“Wallpaper?” Rhys repeated.
Wallpaper was significantly more expensive than painting.
“Yes,” Louisa said. “I was talking to Mrs. Crawford, and she mentioned that while visiting her sister and niece in Brighton, she learned that her niece’s employer, the Viscountess Eastleigh had all the servants’ rooms lined with wallpaper. A frivolity, Mrs. Crawford said, but she was very adamant that her niece was pleased working for the viscountess.”
“And you think wallpaper was the cause of her servant’s happiness?”
Louisa’s smile faltered for a moment, and Rhys hated himself for dampening her spirits.
“I suppose not, but I had thought…”
Rhys glanced at Mr. Trench.
“Whatever she wants, see that it is done,” he said firmly before turning on his heel.
A mumble of words sounded behind him, but Rhys wasn’t interested in them. He felt like a bully in that moment, tired from two days’ worth of work finished before noon, agitated that Louisa should appear so relaxed in the company of another man, and frustrated with his own lacking that she might not perceive him in the same light as her precious John.
It was enough to drive a man to drink.
Upon reaching the second-floor landing, he was halfway to his room when he felt the vibration of the floor beneath his feet. Rhys stopped in his tracks. Turning around, he saw Louisa, staring him down as she walked purposely towards him.
“Yes?”
“What was that?” she asked, her expression perturbed.
“What?”
“You were inhospitable to Mr. Trench.”
“Was I?” he asked sarcastically as he entered his room, not wishing to argue.
“Yes, you were,” she said, following him into the room. “Significantly so.”
“My apologies then.”
His tone was anything but apologetic, but he was fast coming to his wits’ end. He was tired, dirty, significantly less posh than the man sitting in his receiving room. It hadn’t ever bothered him before, but then Louisa wasn’t in his life before. All he wanted was for her to relax in his presence.
Yet seeing her now, her shoulders drawn back, her spine pin straight, and the apprehensive look she was staring at him with, well, he didn’t much have the patience to correct himself.
Why was she here? In his room, arms at her side, her hands clenched as if she were marching into battle. She might have done well on the battlefield with so much determination. But while they were worlds away from war, Rhys suddenly felt as though he were standing on the front lines.
“Have I displeased you in some way?” she asked suddenly.
“No,” he answered instantaneously. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem distressed by my meeting with Mr. Trench.”
“I do not mean to seem so.”
