“Too late,” Victor announced. “I am here. I still cannot see you.”
Victor walked into the nearly empty room, his footsteps clipped on the parquet floor and echoed throughout the room. The only object he saw was a scaffolding near the back. He glanced about and then up, noting a complete celestial work of art on the ceiling. Cherubs smiled, angels played harps and flutes, all against a light blue background. There must be over three dozen cherubim, but none were identical in face, size, or color of clothing. After taking in the ceiling, Victor smiled and walked closer to the scaffolding. He now knew where his wife could be found.
The first thing he saw was her long, dark braid fall to the side. Next his wife’s face appeared as she leaned over to look at him. That wasn’t the girl he’d left behind. Her eyebrows were still thin, arching over her blue eyes framed in thick, long lashes. Her nose, while not sharp, was not as rounded and her cheekbones were more defined. He was happy to see that she had retained some of her delicate freckles.
His wife may just be one of the prettiest women he had ever seen. She wasn’t a classic beauty in a cold, traditional way, but pretty in a way that warmed a heart and comforted a soul.
Victor nearly shook his head. Where the blazes had those thoughts come from?
“Hello, Charlotte.”
Her face took on a deep, rosy hue. “Hello, Lord Blackmar.”
“Victor,” he corrected with a smile.
“Of course, Victor.”
Still, she made no move to come down.
“Shall I join you up there or would you rather come down here.”
“I will come down, of course.”
Walters appeared at the side of the scaffold carrying an old, worn, paint splattered tray. He held it up to his wife.
Victor stood back, watching as she slowly placed paints, brushes, rags, a glass of murky water, and a pallet onto the tray.
“I will see that the brushes are cleaned properly, Lady Blackmar,” the butler promised before exiting the room.
“Thank you, Walters,” Charlotte called, then shifted, and began to climb down the scaffolding. The moment Victor saw her bum, he knew that his wife was no longer the girl he had left behind. Not only was she wearing breeches and barefoot, but Charlotte possessed a perfect bottom.
Once her feet were on the floor, Charlotte slowly turned to face him. She wore a paint splattered apron over an equally paint splattered shirt. The apron was tied at the waist, going around her before tying at the front. Though Victor knew it was disrespectful, he could not help trailing his eyes over those rounded hips, slightly rounded stomach, narrower waist and finally, full breasts, which strained against the apron. Her neck was slimmer, or perhaps only longer than before. She was also slightly taller, and the top of her head nearly reached his nose. Apprehension lingered in her blue eyes as she bit her lower lip while he concluded his study.
The desire he was afraid he would never feel for his wife was building. Not just desire, but lust. The girl that he had married had grown into a very enticing woman.
Bloody hell! No wonder Percy wondered why Victor remained in London.
Shehadworkedsohard in preparing for Victor’s visit and now it was all ruined. What must he think finding her dressed in this manner? Not only was her clothing not neat, it wasn’t even a dress, but a paint splattered shirt and breeches.
Charlotte held her arms steady but grasped each side of the apron, waiting for him to finish his study. Her palms were sweating, and she resisted the urge to wipe them against her breeches.
As for Victor, he had not changed at all. Well, perhaps a little, but he was still the most handsome man she had ever met. There were lines at the corners of his eyes which were probably from worry for his family and the estate, especially since he had come into the title.
“You are looking well, Charlotte. It is obvious this arrangement has been good for you.”
“Yes. Thank you for letting me live here.”
“No need to thank me. It is I who am indebted to you for saving my family from disgrace.”
“I do not wish your gratitude.” She hated that he was here out of obligation, and she certainly didn’t want him thinking that he owed her. Except those were the only reasons a gentleman like Victor would end up married to an ordinary common merchant’s daughter like her. “Neither of us had a choice and I am not comfortable if you feel you owe a debt to me.”
“That came out poorly and I apologize.” He turned, offering her his arm. “We have both benefitted from the marriage. I have financial stability and you have a home of your own, where you have grown into a lovely lady.”
Her face warmed, even though he was only being polite. Charlotte almost took his offered arm until she remembered that she had been painting. Regardless of how neat she tried to be, some always ended up on her hands and arms. Instead, she held them up for him to see. “I would hate to ruin your suit coat.”
Victor let his arm drop and smiled before he looked up at the ceiling. “I must admit my surprise. When you wrote and told me you were painting the rooms of the house, I did not envision this.”
She knew her idea of decorating was unconventional, but she just couldn’t bring herself to paint a bland and boring single color on every wall. She had to add her own details where she could, such as a wall with a pattern similar to papers hung by others, or cherubs on the ceiling in the ballroom, or a large painting for a wall that was just perfect. “If there is anything that you do not like, I can repaint.” The idea sickened her, but she would cover her work if he insisted.
