Page 160 of Ironvine

“Your Grace, I thank you, truly.”

“And I thank you and your Countess for taking great care with my wife when she needed it the most.”

“Ryvves, one more thing—” the Duchess said as she took Georgina’s hands in hers and kissed both her cheeks.

“Your Grace?”

She eyed Charles, her lips twisted in amusement. “I am enjoying my friendship with the Countess very much. I expect nothing will alter that.”

Georgina laughed, that hearty, clear laugh that filled his soul with that unusual lightness. Charles slid his arm around his wife’s waist. “I am most pleased and honored to hear it. Know that your and His Grace’s friendship will always be special to us both.”

ChapterSeventy-One

Georgina

Charles wastrue to his word.

Georgina had written down a list of things she would need for the conservatory to be her atelier, and within days, three workmen arrived and re-arranged the space as she needed. They whitewashed one wall so that she could draw on it, paint on it, and clean it at whim, just as she’d had done in the attic at Fairthorn. Only this wall in the conservatory at Ironvine was enormous and washed with bright light from above and all sides. It took her breath away.

Soon after, art supplies and tools and paper and canvas of all kinds arrived from her favourite colour shop in London.

She was thrilled to bursting.

She now had long shelves for her sketchbooks and canvases, and more shelves as storage for her supplies. A stand for canvases, boards, a thick pile of paper, containers for brushes, containers for pencils, and boxes for pigments. Two long sturdy work tables, a variety of chairs, and a large divan, which made her grin to herself—he was planning on having relations with her here.Perfect.

No more hiding, no more sneaking about, working in secret, stealing time to work. Lying to herself and lying to everyone around her. No more.

The Duchess of Oakley was also true to her word. A few days after the Oakleys had left, Monsieur Le Verne, the French artist, sent her a letter saying that he had arrived in England and wished to meet his new pupil. The Oakleys had rented a house for him nearby, and he was ready to begin their lessons.

Georgina, too, was ready.

* * *

“Sorry,how long have you been standing there?” Georgina wiped a smudged hand across her forehead, creating more smudge, a flush of red sweeping her cheeks.

“I was admiring my wife as she gave her heart, mind, and soul to her work.” Charles uncrossed his arms and went to her. “Quite different from looking at ledger books and doing sums all day long.”

“I like it when you look at me that way.” She wiped at the smudges of paint and charcoal on her arms, the side of her face.

“What way is that?”

“You’re undressing me, piece by piece. Planning on how to make a mess of me. I can feel your touch from here.”

“Hmm, how well my wife knows me.” He kissed her. “What are you working on today?” He took in the drawings on the floor and her sketch of a vine on the whitewashed wall.

“Trying to get the vine just right along with the dimensions of the entry hall.”

“Ah. I’m looking forward to that.”

She was planning on painting Brother Laurent’s iron vine from the castle in the entryway of their house.

He gestured for the servant, who gave him a small wooden casket. “Thank you.” He tapped his fingers on the wood. “I have a gift for you. Is Monsieur Le Verne still here? I wanted him to see this.”

“He left about twenty minutes ago.” She made a beeline for him and snatched the long wooden casket from his hands.

He laughed softly. “As if you thought jewellery lay inside, but my wife does not get excited by jewelry.”

“Sometimes she does.” Grinning, Georgina unlatched the lock, opened the cover. Her lips parted, her eyes gleamed. “Oh Charles!” Pots of coloured powders rested inside.

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