Page 32 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
Tristan shot him a sidelong look. “Do not start.”
Gideon only grinned wider.
“How many more?” Tristan asked, rubbing a hand over his temple.
Gideon leaned to peer down the line stretching toward the door. “About twenty more, I should think.”
Tristan groaned and let his head fall back against the chair. “God help me.”
The line shuffled forward again.
***
Tristan pushed through the doors, grateful to be back in the manor one more time.
“Good God, I never believed there was a time I would look forward to that cold interior air,” he said, dusting his shoes at the entrance while Gideon walked gently behind him.
“It does put things into perspective, does it not, my lord?”
Tristan turned and opened his mouth to speak but then a rhythmic noise broke into his hearing. It sounded jagged and rough, like a hammer banging hard into a wall. Gideon heard it as well because his head seemed to shift toward the direction of the sound.
Tristan frowned. “What in God’s name is that noise?”
Gideon adjusted the papers tucked under his arm. “That must be the workers. They started this morning on the reconstruction for Lady Vale’s atelier.”
Tristan’s brows rose. “They are here already?”
“Yes, my lord. Mrs. Yarrow was quick to set things in order. They seem to have made good progress.”
Tristan turned in the direction of the noise. Gideon tried to speak behind him, but the noise was either too loud or his valetwas never audible in the first place, but he followed the noise anyway.
Soon, he halted and stood by the doorway, watching the room ahead of him get a complete change. The men inside worked with full energy, and the smell of polish clung to the damp air.
The leader of the crew spotted him immediately and came forward, cap in hand. He bowed quickly. “My lord. I was just about to send word. We’ve run into a small matter.”
Tristan folded his arms. “What’s the matter?”
The man gestured toward the half-bared wall. “We’ll need to replace this section here. We can go with plaster, which is what was there before, or we can use a finer lime finish instead. The plaster is the cheaper choice, and is easy to set.
The lime, on the other hand, takes longer, costs more, and requires a bit of care to get right. My advice, if I may, is plaster. It’ll hold well enough, and the lady will hardly notice the difference. She won’t be spending long hours in here, after all.”
Tristan’s expression sharpened. “Which was here before?”
“The plaster, my lord.”
Tristan glanced at the wall, then back at the man. “Would that not be harsh on her eyes when she is at work? The light here will reflect poorly on it, will it not?”
The man chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, maybe, but with respect, she won’t be here often enough to notice. Ladies have other matters to tend to, as you well know. Embroidery, attending balls, entertaining guests, and all that. She won’t be keeping herself locked away painting for hours. The plaster will be enough.”
The words hung in the air, and Tristan inhaled sharply. Gideon’s gaze flicked to him at once, as if knowing what was coming.
Tristan took a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing. “I do not suppose you are dictating what Lady Vale may or may not do with her time, are you?”
The worker’s face lost its ease, the humor slipping away. “No, my lord, of course not. I meant only—”
“Because, sir,” Tristan cut in, his voice low but edged, “that would be a gross overstepping of your boundaries.”
The man swallowed hard. “I only meant, between the two of us—”
