Page 53 of Winning Her Duke

“Your father kept her alive for you in memories. You miss her because you know she would have loved you and you missed that opportunity. I have no such memories to hold onto or anyone to tell me of them. My father loved pleasure and took it from anyone willing to give it. My mother was filled with anger and jealousy for the love she could never have and sought to drown her pain in drink and took lovers in an attempt to replace what she’d lost. They were never anything to me other than these few facts.”

“A child deserves to be loved by at least one parent if it can’t be both.”

“Love is unrealistic, unattainable, untrustworthy, and unbelievable.”

“My, that is quite a lot of words beginning with un stuffed into one sentence.” Her joke to lighten the moment worked. She was too close to telling him the truth about love.

That it came unsolicited while one was unprepared and was both unfathomable and unwilling to relent. It seemed she had her fair share of un words to describe the feeling as well.

*

It was raining the next morning and Gia sent a note she wouldn’t be going to ride. After not seeing her the night before, or that morning, he was barely able to wait until visiting hours before taking the steps at Tomison House two at a time to knock on the door.

He was greeted by Luther, Lady Tomison’s pleasant butler, but Hale was not shown into the drawing room.

“Miss Gia is not at home for visitors today, Your Grace.”

“Is she unwell?”

“I believe she grew a sensitivity to the flowers presented by the hapless fops who feign an interest, Your Grace. But I see you have not brought any offending blooms with you so I can tell you, she’s in the back garden painting.”

“Thank you, Luther.” Hale smiled as he made his way through the house as if he was part of the household. Over the last several weeks, it had seemed as much.

The butler’s description of Gia’s ailment might have been more believable if the woman wasn’t currently in the garden surrounded by flowers.

Hale was pleased he had been given access when others had not.

He stopped when he saw her sitting on a bench with her easel propped in front of her. She had her back to him and hadn’t heard him approach so he was able to stand there and watch her paint.

Her hair was pulled up on her head in a messy knot that suited her despite its inability to hold all of her hair in place. A few tendrils had fallen free and curled gently against her elegant neck that was bent toward her work.

Her hand gripped a brush that moved effortlessly over the thick paper where the shape of a horse came into focus. If he were to guess, he would say she was painting Xandra. Simply because it was the only horse she hadn’t yet recorded in her art.

He found he couldn’t wait to see it when she finished. He knew she would capture every subtle characteristic of the mustang in meticulous detail.

He took in the smock she wore that hid the shape of her body while protecting her clothes.

He knew that when she eventually noticed him, she would offer a smile filled with everything he’d searched for and never found. Companionship, acceptance, and comfort.

Knowing what awaited him, he took a step toward her. Hearing him, she turned. She had a bit of brown paint on her cheek and a smear of blue in her hair.

And then she smiled and he was unable to categorize anything else.

“Lovely,” he said.

Her smile grew and she shook her head.

“I’ve barely even started.” She thought he’d been speaking of the painting, and after hearing his thought spoken out loud, he went along with her misconception.

“I’m sure it will be lovely. Your paintings always are.” That was true enough. He pulled out the copy of the book he’d purchased for her.

“The General Stud Book, by James Weatherby? You got it!” Gia exclaimed and fairly ripped it from his fingers.

“I did.” He’d gladly spend his entire life earning her smiles if given the opportunity. The thought should have sent him running, but he was too lost in the moment to be frightened.

*

Gia excitedly flipped through the book Hale had brought, looking for one of her horses to be documented within its pages. She found Dante right away and may have squealed in a rather feminine fashion.