Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

" Y our Grace, breakfast is served," a footman called softly from the doorway, breaking the morning's stillness.

Kenneth stirred awake as the first light of dawn filtered through the heavy drapes of his bedchamber. He stretched, feeling the warmth of the early sun on his face.

With a sigh, he rose and dressed, his thoughts already turning to Beatrice as they so often did these days.

He quietly made his way to the morning room, the house still enveloped in tranquil silence, the only sound the soft padding of his footsteps on the plush carpet.

Opening the door softly, he stepped into the room, the scent of fresh paint and the slight tang of turpentine greeting him.

Beatrice was at her easel, her back to him, completely absorbed in her painting.

The morning light spilled through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow around her, highlighting the caramel hues in her hair and making them shimmer like strands of silk. Her paint-stained dress clung to her form, accentuating her curves in a way that made his breath hitch and his heart skip a beat.

A footman entered quietly, carrying a tray laden with tea and biscuits, the delicate china clinking softly. He placed it on a small table near the door and left as silently as he had come, a ghost in the periphery of Kenneth's awareness.

Kenneth took the tray, the weight of it solid and grounding in his hands, and walked over to Beatrice. He gently set it down beside her, careful not to disturb her concentration.

"Good morning," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle her from her creative reverie.

Beatrice looked up, a smile lighting up her face, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Good morning."

He gestured to the tray, the steam from the tea curling up invitingly in the air. "I thought you might need this."

She set her brush down, the action deliberate and careful, and reached for the tea, her fingers brushing against the delicate china. Her eyes sparkled with gratitude, a silent thanks that made his heart swell.

"Thank you. I always lose track of time when I'm painting."

Kenneth settled into a nearby chair, the leather creaking slightly under his weight. He watched her as she took a sip of her tea, admiring the way her lips curled around the rim of the cup, the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

"What are you working on today?"

"A new piece," she replied, her voice brimming with excitement, her eyes alive with passion. "It's a landscape inspired by the view from here. The sea is just so mesmerizing."

Kenneth nodded, his gaze drawn to the rough sketch on the canvas, the lines bold and confident. "Another Westback?"

Beatrice's smile faltered slightly, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, and she nodded. "Yes. It feels right."

Kenneth leaned back in his chair, studying her, taking in the determined set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. "But why continue with the Westback pseudonym now that we're married? It's not about the money anymore, is it?"

Beatrice shook her head, setting her tea down, the cup clinking softly against the saucer. "No, it's not about the money. It's about having something that's completely mine. Not my father's, not my brother's, not even yours. It's a part of me that I get to keep."

Kenneth felt a surge of admiration for her, for her strength, for her independence. "I understand."

She reached for his hand, her fingers warm and slightly rough from her work. "Thank you, Kenneth."

Kenneth watched her for a moment longer, taking in the way the light danced across her features, the way her eyes shone with a quiet determination.

He stood up and moved behind her, looking over her shoulder at the painting. The scent of her hair, a sunny lavender field, filled his senses. The view of the sea was indeed mesmerizing, the waves captured in delicate strokes of blue and green, alive with movement and light.

"It's beautiful," he said softly, his breath stirring the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

"I wanted to capture the way the sea makes me feel—free and infinite."

Kenneth's gaze lingered on her, a growing warmth in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite name.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft whoosh of the waves outside and the distant call of seabirds—a symphony of nature.

Kenneth felt a newfound appreciation for the woman beside him, her talent and passion adding layers to the person he was beginning to know, to understand.

Beatrice picked up her brush again, her movements fluid and confident, as if the brush were an extension of her being. Kenneth watched her for a while, content to simply be in her presence, to bask in the calm she seemed to radiate.

In that quiet room, with the sea as their backdrop, he realized that his feelings for her were evolving, becoming something more profound and meaningful.

It was more than just lust, more than just a physical attraction. It was the start of something deeper.

The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying, a leap into the unknown.

The next morning, Kenneth led Beatrice out to the stables, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

"I want to show you something," he said, his hand resting gently on the small of her back as he guided her.

Beatrice's eyes widened as they entered the stables, the scent of hay and horses enveloping them. Before her stood a beautiful chestnut mare, its coat gleaming in the soft light.

"This is Firefly," Kenneth announced, his voice filled with pride. "She's gentle and perfect for beginners. I thought you might like to try."

Beatrice hesitated, her stomach fluttering. "I've never ridden a horse before," she admitted.

Kenneth smiled reassuringly. "I'll be right here with you. Trust me."

With his help, Beatrice mounted the horse, his strong hands guiding her into the saddle. He showed her how to hold the reins and gently nudge Firefly forward.

As they rode out into the open fields, Kenneth staying close by her side, Beatrice felt a rush of freedom and exhilaration.

The wind whipped through her hair as they picked up speed, Kenneth's laughter mingling with her own. She marveled at the way he moved with the horse, his motions fluid and confident. Under his patient guidance, she began to relax, enjoying the thrill of the ride.

After an invigorating morning, they returned to the stables, both flushed and grinning.

"You're a natural," Kenneth praised, helping her dismount. "With a little more practice, you'll be outpacing me."

Beatrice beamed at his words, a sense of accomplishment warming her from within. "Thank you for this, Kenneth. It was wonderful."

Hand in hand, they made their way down to their private beach, the salt-tinged breeze tousling their hair. The sand was warm beneath their bare feet as they strolled along the shoreline, the rhythmic crash of the waves a soothing backdrop.

As they walked, Beatrice's thoughts turned to her father. She spoke softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia, "My father used to take me on walks like this when I was a child. He loved the sea."

Kenneth squeezed her hand gently, silently encouraging her to continue.

"I miss him terribly," Beatrice confessed, her eyes glistening with tears. "He was the one who encouraged my love for art. He always believed in me."

Kenneth listened attentively, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand. After a moment, he shared his own story. "My father was quite different. He was consumed by his own desires, neglecting his duties and those who loved him."

Beatrice looked up at him, her heart aching at the pain in his voice.

"After my mother passed, he lost himself completely. He squandered our fortune and ruined our reputation. When he died, I was left to pick up the pieces."

"You have done such great work here," she said.

"Thank you. My only wish is to do better than him."

Beatrice stopped, turning to face him fully. "Kenneth, I want you to know that you are ten times the man your father was. You've taken the broken pieces he left behind and rebuilt something strong and honorable. Don't ever doubt that."

Kenneth's eyes shone with emotion, her words striking a deep chord within him. He pulled her close, his forehead resting against hers.

"Thank you. For seeing me, for understanding me."