Page 11 of The Vixen in Red
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes,” he replied slowly. “Though most of it is the servants quarters. Very few of the main rooms are completed.”
Charlotte frowned. “Walk with me. I think better when I’m active.” She started to move before he could agree. He fell into step beside her. She began talking again. “What main rooms are finalized?”
“None at present,” he answered honestly. “Though the salon and library should be finished tomorrow. The only main area fully completed is the foyer, but it’s not really a room that is utilized for anything.”
She nodded. “No, it isn’t.” Charlotte nibbled on her lip, and he was momentarily transfixed. She swiped her tongue over her bottom lip, and he almost groaned. “What of the ballroom?”
He shook his head away from his lustful thoughts. She didn’t need to know he was imagining kissing her, tasting her, and touching her more in every way possible. “The repairs are scheduled for that room next. We ran into a bit of a problem. You might be able to help with it if you’re willing.”
“Oh?” She stopped and glanced at him. “How could I possibly assist with repairs on a ballroom?”
“Tell me what you hope to do?” He wanted all the information he could gather first.
“A ball of course, or a more formal sort of dance.” She smiled. “With a large birthday cake and champagne to toast my aunt’s sixtieth year.”
“That might be doable if we finish in time,” he said. He’d love to be able to dance with her.
“Now, how may I aid you?”
He tilted his lips upward. This was going far easier than he could have anticipated. “It may be for nothing.”
“Tell me,” she demanded. She was gorgeous, and he wanted to kiss her even more than before.
“Your cousin,” he began. “The Duchess of Whitewood.”
“Elizabeth?” She stared at him, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“As I said, it may be too late,” he told her. “She ordered all the wallpaper we wanted for the ballroom. If you can convince her to part with it…I’ll reimburse her, of course…we might be able to finish in time.”
“Say no more,” she answered. “I’ll contact her immediately. Luckily, they are nearby, and it shouldn’t take long for her to reply. I’ll call upon you once she replies.”
He nodded. “Wonderful.”
They began to stroll again, this time in silence. He liked that about her. They didn’t have to carry a conversation. It was enough that they had companionship. When they reached her aunt’s cottage, she waved and went inside, and he continued on toward his home. Maybe everything had happened for a reason. It had given him another encounter with the lovely Lady Charlotte, and for that he couldn’t help but be grateful for. Now he had to ensure the ballroom was finished in time. He would hate to disappoint her.
Chapter 7
Charlotte stared at her journal. Writing had been going well. Had. The last couple of days she hadn’t managed a sentence. Her mind kept wandering to the Earl of Frossly. She was attracted to him but wished she could erase him from her thoughts. He was a distraction she could not afford. Why did she have to meet him now? She had a goal, and his presence made it impossible to meet it.
She sighed in defeat.
Perhaps it was time to set her writing aside, at least within the privacy of her bedchamber. Nothing inspired her inside, and she may need something more…uplifting to assist her. She stood and went to grab a satchel, then placed her journal and pencil inside of it. She looped the long strap over her shoulder and left the room. She hopped down the stairs and exited the cottage. A walk might help stir her imagination. At the very least, it would give her some much-needed exercise.
She didn’t know where she intended to go. Sometimes having no particular place in mind resulted in the best outings. Spontaneity often helped incite her creativity. Charlotte wandered over the fields near her aunt’s cottage until she reached the pond she’d had her picnic at a couple of weeks ago.
A picnic she’d shared with Lord Frossly…
Again, her thoughts wandered to him. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Charlotte took a deep breath and shook her head. When she was done, she moved closer to the pond. Once she reached the edge, she rubbed her hands over her arms. Tiny bumps had formed across them as a cool breeze blew over her. She should have worn her spencer when she left the cottage, but she hadn’t considered it might be chilly.
She didn’t want to return to retrieve it. At least not yet… Charlotte didn’t want to waste her time away. It wasn’t that cold. She could settle somewhere near the pond. If she couldn’t write, she might at least be able to sketch. Any outlet of creativity would be beneficial to her. She didn’t have a blanket or a picnic basket this time. Sitting on the ground might ruin her skirts. The question was: Did she really care?
There was a nice tree on the other side of the pond. It had high branches, and the leaves were almost fully grown to fill out its branches. At the end of April, life had started to sprout again, and everything had turned a vibrant green. The sogginess from the melted snow had left the ground earlier in the month, which made her picnic more feasible. She might be colder under the tree, but she could lean against it as if it were a comfortable chair.
With her destination decided, she made her way around the pond until she reached the large tree. She settled against it and then pulled her notebook and pencil out of her satchel. Opening it to a blank page, she started to sketch. The pond would be her muse and she would bring it to life in her book. Maybe she could include it in her novel as an illustration.
She was so involved in her drawing the world around her nearly disappeared. All she saw when she looked up was the tranquility of the pond. A couple swans swam across the dark blue water. She added them to the paper. From the way they moved together, Charlotte wondered if they were a mated pair. They seemed almost inseparable.
“They’re lovely, aren’t they?”
