“You are leaving?” The question slipped out before she could stop it. Foolish girl, for imagining that he might have atendrefor her. “You are leaving tomorrow?”
Garrett paused his fork for a moment, long enough to glance up. “I have a great deal of work awaiting me.” When he looked back down at his food, he frowned. “It’s best I don’t waste any more time.” With that, he stabbed his fork into a piece of sausage. He was not in the best humor this morning.
Natalie looked back down at her plate.
She was no longer hungry. Even her coffee lost its appeal.
MIXED FEELINGS
Mixed feelings plagued Garrett at the thought of spending the morning with Natalie. Being near her but unable to touch her would be…frustrating. Staring into his coffee, he pictured Natalie as she’d been last night, sweet and trusting, leaning against the tree. Her skin beckoned him, invited him. One taste would never be enough.
So soft. So fragrant. So enticing.
When he’d first laid eyes on her over two years ago, he’d made the judgment that she must be one of the most pampered and selfish debutantes of the season.
Ah, but he’d been wrong. She worried she had been selfish to insist upon a marriage that would meet her needs. As beautiful on the inside as the outside, she was smart and compassionate and sweet. God, she was sweet, and soft…
And yet, to even consider a future with her was impossible. Having come to this conclusion, he did not wish to listen to her laugh, or smell her hair, or touch her hand. He needed no further reminders of her feminine delights.
They had finished breakfast and were now headed upstairs.
And, of course, her dress caressed and molded itself to her body while she walked in front of him.
Garrett had another reason for dreading this morning’s task. Dredging his mother’s artwork up after all these years gave him a somewhat sickening feeling. The reason for this eluded him.
He hadn’t looked at the paintings when he’d retrieved them from his mother’s agent. They’d been gifted to him, put into trust by her. Just after he’d come of age, a solicitor had contacted him. He’d been ordered to give the paintings to her child when he reached his majority.
As though she had known she was going to die.
For a storage fee, Garrett had left them in care of the solicitor until a few years ago, when the man himself passed away. Reluctant to store them at Maple Hall, Garrett had quickly accepted when Stone offered to keep them here, at Raven’s Park.
Since the day he’d been notified of this strange inheritance, he’d felt a dread at opening them—as though he would be opening a door to the past—a past that included his father. Was he perhaps afraid to find that his mother might have been as insane as her husband? She’d married the man, after all. She’d borne his father a son. It had been the very last thing she’d done on this earth.
Garrett dismissed his misgivings as Natalie led the way. She knew where they were stored and strode purposefully through the corridor. Garrett vaguely remembered assisting in their placement, but that had been some time ago, and he could not remember the exact location of the room. When they reached the door, he waited in the corridor while Natalie turned the knob and pushed it open. The ladies entered first. Holding a large crowbar in his right hand, Garrett followed hesitantly. Lady Ravensdale had offered to send a servant along to assist, but Garrett would open them himself.
He found it oddly comforting that he was not to do so alone.
He stepped into the room and paused as Natalie opened the thick drapes blocking the morning sunlight. Lady Eleanor removed a dust cover from a high-backed brocaded seat and perched herself on its edge. Looking at him, she nodded encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath, Garrett examined the nearest wooden crate. It was one of the larger ones but opened easily when he pried at the seams. With one corner dislodged, Garrett pulled the wood away and leaned it against the wall. He then unwound the burlap cloth that had been wrapped around the cargo so very long ago. Was his mother the last person to have touched these contents? He inhaled deeply, thinking there might be a hint of her perfume, something of her person. But all he could smell was dust and paint. What had she been thinking when she’d stored these items? Did she know she would not live to know the child she carried?
The first painting appeared to be a rendering of Hyde Park in the springtime. Abstract colors, chosen by the artist, softened the realism. Garrett’s eyes drank in the image. It was as though the woman who had been his mother could finally share this memory. Natalie walked over to the painting and knelt on the floor to get a closer look. She reached out a tentative hand and touched the frame.
“Oh, Garrett, it’s stunning.” Her voice fell to almost a whisper.
Forging ahead, Garrett moved the painting and leaned it against the wall. Natalie rose again and removed the burlap from the painting behind it.
“Oh, that is the one!” Lady Eleanor cried out. “That is the one I told you about, Natalie. Notice the life in it. I’ve always remembered how this painting made me feel. It is as though she were painting the colors of the sun itself during autumn.You think you ought to be able to smell decaying leaves.It is so…alive.”
The large lump that formed in Garrett’s throat threatened to choke him as he uncovered the paintings. All in all, there were over twenty, each of them a great work to be appreciated. These were created by his mother.His mother! His initial reaction of a connection with his long-deceased mother was gradually replaced with a sense of awe.
She was not only an artist; she’d been a genius.
Natalie opened the last container, a trunk, and after removing a few gowns, pulled out some stacks of paper. “Oh, look, here are some drawings of people—portraits. Such talent, Garrett!”
Lady Eleanor had been staring at one of the paintings, but upon hearing Lady Natalie’s words she walked over to look through the drawings. Grasping one of them with shaking hands, she let out a soft exclamation, “Oh, Arthur!”
Natalie examined the portrait. “Do you know him, Lady Eleanor?”
