“Occasionally, but not as you describe. They must prefer the northern end of the gardens for some reason. I’ll talk to one of the groundskeepers about it. Perhaps they can try creating a roost for them somewhere farther from the house.”
“That would be wonderful. Last night, they sounded so close I actually went into the hall, brandishing a poker from the fireplace.”
Those cries were the worst, high-pitched and throaty. It reminded me of when the twins had been born and all of Highmoor was kept awake with their wails.
“Oh, Verity,” Alex murmured, looking concerned. He ruined it a moment later by bursting into a snort of laughter.
“You find my predicament amusing?” I asked, peeking around the canvas. “You do know I’m more than capable of adding a series of warts across your face, don’t you? Your portrait will be resoundingly mocked by generations of future Laurents.”
He held up a hand, trying to stop, but doubled over again anyway. “I just pictured you, running out in the hall—obviously looking quite alluring in your nightdress,” he added quickly, “with the poker thrown outward, ready for harm.” Alex pantomimed slaying one of the beasts before glancing up at me. His eyes danced with happiness and despite my irritation over the birds, I found myself smiling back before I resumed painting.
The portrait was nearing completion. I only needed to add in the highlights and shadows that would make the work seem more realistic, and finish up a couple of details in the background before I started his face. I liked to save the face for last.
In truth, I didn’t want the sessions to end.
My moments with Alex were the best parts of my day.
Dauphine had every one of my waking moments planned and accounted for. She always had a reason for us to go to town, pushing the portrait sessions to the often forgotten back burner. She seemed to take delight in overriding any suggestions or ideas I might have for the wedding. Or my clothing. Or my very appearance.
Earlier that morning, she’d declared we had an appointment at a perfumery to pick out my new signature scent, something to befit a future duchess.
“I don’t really wear perfume,” I’d said, looking up from my third cup of coffee.
She had nodded, as if more than aware.
Gerard spent nearly all of his hours in the greenhouse, delaying dinners and causing bright spots of anger across Dauphine’s cheeks, except for when he popped up at the most inconvenient times, ready to test my knowledge of the noble houses of Arcannia and peppering the conversation with veiled hints and increasingly unsubtle statements alluding to the long line of progeny I was meant to issue forth.
Stacks of books grew in my sitting room, filled with things he expected me to become well versed in. They teetered on my writing desk as tall as towers. I meant to read them, I really did, but by the end of the day, after portrait sessions and dress fittings, food tastings and luncheons with Dauphine’s friends, I often collapsed into bed, utterly spent.
And then…the peacocks.
It was as if I were trapped in a whirlpool, circling and spinning around, drawn in tighter, unable to swim out of its hold. Moments with Alex made me feel like myself. Our time together was still and sweet and…us. There were no ulterior motives, no barbed comments. I could breathe freely.
“The Peaseblossoms’ anniversary banquet is later this week,” he mentioned, his mind wandering.
I recalled the older couple from Dauphine’s dinner. It felt like an age had passed since then, though it had only been three weeks. “How many years have they been together?”
“Fifty-five.”
I raised my eyebrows, impressed.
“That will be us one day,” he predicted confidently. “Fifty-five years from now, I’ll look over to you in the middle of our party and say, ‘Remember that spring you painted my portrait? What a foolish young man I was then. I’d thought you’d never look lovelier, but, look at you now…magnificent.’？”
“And I’ll lean in and squawk at you to repeat everything you said because I couldn’t hear it the first time.”
Alex beamed. “I’ve no doubt our love will be stronger then than it is today, even if our hearing is not.”
My smile froze, then faltered.
“What are you thinking about?” Alex asked, astute as ever.
I pushed a bit of paint about the palette, buying myself a moment. I hadn’t yet told Alex about my encounter with Gerard’s mistress on the day of our engagement. I knew I needed to—I kept far too many other secrets from him to let another add up—but I wasn’t sure how to go about it. It wasn’t something that found a natural outlet into everyday conversation.
“Verity?” he prompted, rolling forward. He reached out for my hand but stopped short of touching me. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Of course not.”
“Sometimes I worry that—” He stopped short.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He looked away.
I tipped my head, trying to catch his gaze.
He pressed his lips together. “I’m so new at all this. I fear…I worry that I might come on too strong, too zealous.”
“Oh, Alex, no,” I started, then registered what he’d admitted. “You get nervous?”
He nodded and my heart swelled, touched by the vulnerability of his admission.
“I do too.” I set the palette and paintbrush aside. “I worry…all of the time.”
Alex’s eyebrows furrowed together. “About what?”
“That I’m going to do something to mess this up…to mess us up. I don’t know what I’m doing—ever really—but especially with you. I don’t want to do the wrong thing and end up with you…unsatisfied.”
“Oh, Verity,” he murmured, his hand falling on mine. “That’s not possible. Never.”
“You say that, but…” I trailed off, thinking of Dauphine, of the hurt that had been in her eyes.
“I am nothing like my father,” he said, guessing at the words I didn’t say. “I swear to you, here and now, you are it. You are everything. No one else in the world could ever steal me from you.” He cupped his hands over my cheeks. “I will never do anything to hurt you.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, sealing his promise with a kiss. “I will never stray.” Another kiss. “I would never want to.”
My insides squirmed, wondering if he would make such declarations if he fully knew me, if he fully knew what things crept into my vision, what things resided within my mind.
“I…I have a bit of a surprise for you,” he admitted.
“You do?”
He nodded and took my hands once more. “Come to the settee for a moment.”
“Oh.” I glanced at the paints, wondering if I ought to cover them.
“It won’t be long, but you might as well be comfortable,” he said, catching my worry. He drew me over to the tufted couch, letting me settle in before positioning his chair beside me. “I’ve been thinking about after the wedding.”
“After?” I echoed. Dauphine had me so focused on every detail for the day itself, I hadn’t given much thought to what came after.