Page 53 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
She could have spent some time with him, but he didn’t want to deny her an opportunity to see the art gallery.
He finished putting on his suit when two footmen came up and knocked on his door. His servants had been trained to notify him before they barged into his tower.
He opened the door to find them carrying a large package.
“What is this?” He asked. “I was not expecting anything today.”
“A gift from the Duchess. She said you could hang it anywhere you like.”
He dismissed the footmen with a nod and removed the wrapping paper from the canvas. His breath caught in his throat. It was full of the vibrant colors that he admired and used in his own painting.
But what struck him the most was that his wife had been thinking of him during the time they had been apart. She thought not only of him but also of his creations.
And that fact struck a chord within him. He had not anticipated such a feeling, seeing the nature of his marriage.
Even more, she had seen a part of him that he did not relish sharing—his inner turmoil. And yet she kept seeking him out, spending time with him,wantinghim just the same.
He decided to hang the painting in his tower, the most intimate and private space he had in the manor. He was so taken with the painting that he felt like he needed to have it around him at all times. He’d leave a note for the footmen to come back and hang it. In the meantime, he would express his gratitude to his wife for a thoughtful gesture.
He climbed down from his tower and headed to Theresa’s rooms.
As he approached, he did the same as last night—he stood at the door and simply watched her being herself when she didn’t know someone was looking. When he peered in, the maid was just finishing with her hair.
“You have such a delicate touch,” Theresa was saying. “I have never had anyone help me with such a task. Margaret helped me occasionally, but even that was not always done well. Thank you.”
The maid gave her a beatific smile, curtsied, and left the room just as quietly as she had entered it. She yelped in fright when she ran into Aaron, but then recovered quickly and scurried away.
“Do you always lurk outside the door?” Theresa called out over her shoulder.
“It’s just that you have wrapped every servant in this house around your little finger,” Aaron said with a smile. “I know you’ve been getting extra sweets from the cook.”
“She offers them freely,” Theresa countered. “You could ask, too. She would do the same for you.”
“You take offense where I meant none,” Aaron said. “I came to thank you for the painting and to tell you how lovely you look in that gown. This color and style certainly suit you.”
The truth was that Aaron was at a loss for words about how his wife looked in her new gown. Silence fell between them as he racked his brain for something to say, the right words to tell her what she was starting to mean to him.
But now was not the moment for platitudes. He merely wanted her to know how good she looked before they left for the garden party.
He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts that did not serve him.
“Thank you for the painting, but you need not have given me a gift,” he tried again.
“You told me that I was free to use my dowry however I wanted. And I wanted to thank you for giving me this second chance at life.” Theresa bit her bottom lip, as if there was more she wanted to say.
“I never was sure that being a nun was meant for me. I loved my sisters, especially Sister Edith, who raised me, and Margaret, who is my dearest friend. But their life… It just wasn’t for me.”
“You were meant for more,” Aaron agreed. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over her body from head to toe.
“As were you,” she countered. “As I have seen so much art today, I do wonder if you would allow me to peruse your own works.”
Aaron hesitated. His paintings were private, meant for his eyes only. It was the reason he did not hang them in the common areas of the estate. His paintings were meant to express the pain he could speak about.
How could he possibly share that pain with the little nun who would never understand the depths of his feelings?
“Dear husband, I know you are harboring some talent that you wish to keep from me,” she teased when he did not respond.
With resignation, he sighed. He could not deny her what she wanted when it was so innocent. Her desire to remove his mask was another story, but this he could grant to her. He would allow her into his tower to survey the paintings he had already completed.
