She smiled, her heart still pounding. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter 21
They met Evangeline in the hall and went up the stairs, still unfinished but lit by a beautiful skylight above. Her aunt paused to exclaim over the beauty of it and the way it allowed natural light into all floors, but Joan marveled at how much care Tristan was taking. The house wasn’t merely being restored, it was being almost rebuilt. He was eradicating what had made him unhappy and making the house his own, right down to the floorboards and mechanisms. She had seen and heard of modern improvements, but never seen so many collected in one place. She trailed her fingertips along the oak banister, trying not to wonder if he pictured his modern, welcoming house filled with a wife and family.
They went through all the rooms. Evangeline joined them as they went up to see where the greatest damage had been, where the air was thick with fresh sawdust and the limey smell of plaster. Tristan pointed out the improved bell system, which ran all the way into the servants’ quarters. He showed them the addition being built out at the back of the house to allow for water closets on every floor. He demonstrated the water pumps in the servants’ closet upstairs, enabling water to be drawn easily and quickly for the bedrooms. He showed them the main drawing room overlooking the Square, where the floor was being relaid in an intricate parquet pattern because the old boards had been burned by loose coals and warped by the flood.
“I have rarely been filled with such envy for a house,” Evangeline told Tristan as she watched the workmen fitting floorboards together. “I shall shamelessly copy this design in my own house.”
“I give full credit to Mr. Davies.” Tristan motioned to one of the workmen, who looked up and doffed his cap.
“Indeed! Mr. Davies, how long will it take to cover this whole floor?”
Tristan drew her away as Evangeline questioned the workers. “You must help me choose the furnishings,” he said.
Joan laughed as he led the way to the master bedchamber. “I’ve no idea! You must have some preferences of your own.”
“I do,” he assured her. “Mechanical improvements, and things I prefer changed. Servants’ quarters where the servants can stand upright, for instance. But the finer points—draperies and carpets and such—elude me.”
“Anyone can choose those,” she tried to say, but Tristan shook his head.
“You’re wrong. Anyone can, but not everyone can choose them well, to make a house warm and welcoming. I care for that more than for creating a grand palace for entertaining.”
Joan didn’t know what to say. He was looking at her in such an intense, direct way...
“This is the master’s bedchamber,” she said. “Your bedroom.”
“There’s no bed in here yet.”
She wet her lips. “But there will be.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “In a few weeks. What should I see when I wake?”
Me, she thought on a sudden burst of longing. Oh, help. She was falling in love with him, and picturing him in his bed, forging a home out of this once dark and gloomy house, was not helping her peace of mind.
“Er ... deep blue,” she said softly. Blue was her favorite color. “With patterned bed hangings.”
“What sort of pattern? Chinoiserie?”
“No.” She tried not to think of it as her room, or her bed. “Something natural, as if to bring a bit of the garden indoors.”
His eyes lit with a slow smile. “Excellent suggestion. Thanks to you I shall have the whole house finished in half the time.”
She gave a startled little laugh. “That still seems a long time from now.”
“Don’t underestimate my determination. I want it done sooner.” He paused. “I often get what I want.” Joan waited, at once hopeful and anxious, but he turned away. “This room was almost untouched by the water. Only the windows needed repair. I expect it will be painted within a week—blue, thanks to you.”
She let out her breath. “When will you take up residence?”
“Soon. Very soon.” He crossed the room to a door in the far corner. “I have something else to show you. This is the most impressive room.”
Joan followed him, feeling very impressed already. And this room was no different. It was small but bright, painted a brilliant yellow with a row of casement windows running almost the length of the back wall. But they were high, so high she could just see out of them while standing. And right beneath them...
“What do you think?” Tristan asked.
“Is this a room for—for bathing?” Joan eyed the tub. It was rather large.
“Of course.”
