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“Are yousureit’s safe?” Theo asked. Shewaswearing her spectacles so she could see if she fell to her death.
“I took the staircase not a moment ago myself, Lady Haven. ’Tis safe,” Rolfe assured her.
Theo looked at Rolfe’s large, bulky form. If it could hold Rolfe, it would certainly hold her.
“Safe, Theodosia.” Jacinda looked about to burst. It was all she could do to contain herself. “Ambrose says it will remind you of home. Your surprise.”
Ah. So, the surprise had to do with Haven. Much like the lack of mushrooms and the baking of gingerbread. It seemed her husband had decided she’d thawed long enough.
Theo quite agreed. She had relived her wedding night repeatedly as Haven snored next to her, hidden by the row of pillows. Sheer torture.
Cautiously, Theo made her way up the spiral stairs, sparing a look at Rolfe, Jacinda, and Coates below. “Rolfe,” she said over her shoulder. “If I should fall, could you please set down that stack of books and catch me?”
“Without a doubt, Lady Haven,” came the rumbling reply.
“Very good,” she muttered. Moving upward, she paused every step or so to glance down at Rolfe and Jacinda whose faces were both turned in her direction, watching her as she climbed. When her foot met the solid wood of the second floor, Theo breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t ventured up here before, as the stairs had been in a state of disrepair. An empty space, meant to be a sitting area with lamps, was before her, identical to the floor below. What a perfect place this would be to spend a day lost in a book, hidden from the rest of the house. There were more shelves here, all filled with tattered books and bits of paper. The entire area smelled slightly of mildew and neglect.
In her mind, Theo immediately saw a lush Persian rug, possibly in rich gold and crimson, two or three overstuffed chairs in complementary colors, and a small table to hold a lamp. The windows were bare of any coverings, and Theo thought she would keep it that way, for the view outside was stunning. She could see clear into the woodland surrounding the estate. An old stone fence meandered well out of eyesight, crumbling and covered with bramble in places. The leftover remains of what looked to be a wagon sat nearby, now covered with flowering vines. She tried to imagine Haven as a child, running into the field, perhaps along the stone wall.
Turning from the window, Theo spied a narrow hallway partially hidden by a row of bookshelves. Atop a stack of moldering books on one shelf was a rock. Someone had taken red paint and drawn an arrow pointing forward.
Theo tapped her chin. How curious.
The scent of fresh paint assailed her nostrils as she strolled further and found another rock. This arrow pointed up to a narrow set of stairs. A door, painted the same brilliant red as the arrows, stood at the top.
Vermillion, her mind automatically whispered.
The door stood ajar, a silent invitation for her to come inside.
Verymysterious. Exactly the sort of thing Theo adored.
She climbed the stairs, gasping softly in surprise as she reached the top.
Bright light cascaded across freshly swept and scrubbed floors. A block of tall windows, the same as what could be found below in the library, stretched floor to ceiling, providing an even more impressive look at the glorious vista surrounding Greenbriar. Her studio in London had such a sweeping panoramic view, but those windows overlooked the park.
Shelves held an assortment of her miniatures, a half-finished canvas along with several sketches. There was a sofa sitting in one corner, a bit worn and tattered but perfect for Theo to rest on while needing inspiration. Her gut told her the sofa had once sat in the parlor Betts had been staying in, a sitting room Haven’s mother had used, for the fabric and lines were feminine. There was a table with a stool, her small easel sitting on top. A larger easel, one she hadn’t purchased, stood just to the side.
Oh.A tear slipped unbidden down Theo’s cheek.
Rows of paint tubes were laid out neatly according to color, all brand new, meaning Haven must have ordered them in London before their wedding. Her brushes were all clean and placed in a cup. A stack of fresh canvasses, all of differing sizes, sat in the corner. Her portfolio and sketch pad sat on another shelf, along with pencils and charcoal.
There was much more here than what had been packed in her trunks. Much more than she’d had in her studio in London. He’d done this for her. No one had ever gone to so much trouble for her before. She sniffed, trying not to burst into tears.
“It wasn’t meant to make you cry. Do you like it?”
Haven was standing in the shadows at the far reaches of the room, hands clasped behind him. As usual, she found it difficult to decipher his mood.
“It’s wonderful,” she assured him. Her heart fluttered softly within the confines of her chest, desperate to be free and reach his. This studio, more than anything else Haven had ever done or said to her, told Theo the truth of his feelings for her.
‘I wanted you from the moment you spilled ratafia on me.’
Haven leaned down slightly, peering at her in concern. He was dressed in a plain linen shirt and worn leather breeches, scuffed boots firmly on his feet.
I should buy him new boots.Her chest constricted again.
Strands of russet hair were blown about his head as if Haven had just come in from riding through a field. Perhaps he had. She wasn’t sure how he spent most of his day. She’d never asked.
When they had spoken lately, in passing, Theo would take a deep breath and relay all that she was intent on doing without ever asking after him or allowing him to speak. She wasn’t even sure she’d told Haven she’d gone to Warwick. She talkedathim, but not to him, and he’d allowed it. Not once had he objected to anything she planned. Or undermined her authority with the tradesmen flooding Greenbriar. He never questioned how much money she was spending or told her to stop.
