Page 49 of Married to the Icy Duke
Charlotte giggled and sipped her tea. “I have to agree. They would not really have come to blows, would they?”
Sybella snorted. “You can never tell. They might, you know. At the moment, Isaac is … not himself. That is the best way I can describe it. He’s all about Tommy, you know. He’s desperate to help him, and so far, nothing has worked.” She shot an inscrutable look at Charlotte. “Except for you, of course.”
Charlotte sniffed. “Well, perhapsIdon’t terrify him.”
The other woman chuckled at that. “I am not sure Isaac knows the first thing about dealing with children. But you needn’t worry, my dear. Once you are married, I am quite sure that you won’t have to deal with Isaac at all. I imagine that he’ll leave you entirely alone, and you shall be free to do nothing but spend time with our handsome little boy. An exciting prospect, don’t you think?”
A flinch ran through Charlotte. The answer, plain and simple, wasno. She did not consider it an exciting prospect. Of course, she loved Tommy already; that was clear, but was she really to dedicate her whole life to raising a child all by herself? Would the whole of Society know that she was a wife in name onlyand laugh at her accordingly? Was her husband truly going to disappear as soon as he’d placed a ring on her finger?
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to drink down the last of her tea. It was too hot and scalded her tongue. She set the tea down with aclack.
“I haven’t painted for a while, I think,” she announced brusquely.
Sybella shot her a surprised glance. “I had no idea that you were a painter.”
“I am not much of an artist, to be sure, but I can paint well enough. I have some supplies, and I only want a room for my work. Do you think Perling could help me find one?”
“I am sure he could,” Sybella responded, recovering. “Would you like company while you paint, or would you prefer to be alone with your thoughts?"
“Alone with my thoughts, I think,” Charlotte responded, smiling wryly. “I appreciate your asking.”
Sybella chuckled. “The world assumes that we ladies must always be chaperoned. It can drive one mad, to be always lonely but never alone.”
This seemed quite a cynical and rather shocking speech, and it gave Charlotte something of a start. She decided that later,she would ask Sybella a little more about her history. Isaac had not ventured anything, and it was clear thatsomethinghad happened.
Patience,she warned herself.All will be revealed sooner or later.
“It is not a particularly nice room, Lady Charlotte,” Perling explained, looking faintly anxious. “I could find a nicer …”
“No, thank you, Perling, this is perfect,” Charlotte interrupted, stepping past him into the room. It was, he’d said, an unused music-room, or perhaps a writing-room, or something. At any rate, it had long been forgotten about.
There were no carpets on the floor, and a thin film of dust lay over the bare boards. There were no curtains, which allowed light to pour through the wide windows into the room. There were a few sticks of old furniture here and there, but mostly, there was only bare space.
“Perfect?” Perling echoed, visibly confused. “I must have it dusted before you begin, Lady Charlotte.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she responded, striding into the room, hands on her hips. There was a low stool in the corner, she noticed, which would make a perfect seat while she worked. “Look at all this natural light! I shall enjoy painting here.Perling, might this room be set aside for my express use? As an art room?”
“Well, I imagine so, Lady Charlotte. We will, of course, have to check with his Grace, but once you are mistress of this house …” Perling trailed off meaningfully, and Charlotte bit back a smile.
“That is just what I wanted to hear,” she murmured. “Could you fetch my easel and canvases? I believe they’re packed in my room. Oh, and my paints! We mustn’t forget those.”
“Certainly not, Lady Charlotte," he responded with a wry smile.
Shortly afterwards, her easel, canvases, paints, and brushes had been brought down and set up. Perling had offered refreshments, been refused, and had since slipped away, leaving Charlotte to her peace and quiet.
There’s nothing like a little painting to clear the mind. I have no wish to think of Isaac, or his rather likable sister, or that sweet baby who still cannot speak. I am marrying Isaac forthemand to get myself a place in Society. There are no other reasons.
I have no need at all tolikethe man. And I don’t! I don’t like him. Quite the reverse, in fact.
The blank canvas stared accusingly back at her. She could not think of anything to paint.
At last, Charlotte heaved a sigh and opened her paints, setting them on a low table beside her. She would paint the room in front of her. It was a silly thing to do, but it would be a good exercise to bring her back into the habit of painting.
Besides, the tragically bare room was rather pretty with all of the light streaming in, and dust motes dancing in the air. By tomorrow, Perling and his vengeful fleet of housemaids would have descended upon the room, dusting and sweeping and mopping the place to within an inch of its life, until not a speck of dust remained. Now was her chance, then.
She began to paint the base layer, fighting to keep her thoughts cool and even. She would not think of Isaac, and the way he’d looked at her in his study. She would not think of his lips on hers, or his warm palm sliding down her side.
She flinched and left a brownish streak of paint across the canvas. She stared at the streak in annoyance.
