Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 173 - Hundred And Seventy Three

"And this," Aunt Rowena declared, pointing a gloved finger at a painting of a stern-looking man with a large nose, "is the third Duke. He was very fond of hunting, and unfortunately, not very fond of bathing."

Ines walked beside Rowena down the long, echoing hallway of the east wing. The walls were lined with heavy oil paintings in gold frames. The eyes of past Andersons seemed to follow them as they walked.

"And this one," Rowena continued, moving to the next canvas, "is the fourth Duke. He lost a fortune on a horse race and had to sell the family diamonds. We do not speak of him often."

Ines smiled politely. Aunt Rowena was an excellent tour guide. She didn’t just give names and dates; she gave the gossip. She made the dead ancestors feel like living, breathing people with bad habits.

They stopped at the end of the hall.

"From the first to Carcel’s father," Rowena said, sweeping her hand across the last few portraits. "And there is a blank space right there, above the fireplace. That is where Carcel’s portrait will be hung soon. And yours beside him, of course."

Ines looked at the empty spot on the wall. It was strange to think that one day, she would be paint and canvas, staring down at future generations.

Then, something caught her eye.

Among the sea of men in military uniforms and stiff collars, there was a splash of soft blue.

Ines stepped closer to the wall.

It was a portrait of a beautiful woman. She was sitting in a garden, holding a white rose. She had golden blonde hair that fell in ringlets around her face, and her eyes were a piercing, bright blue.

Ines gasped softly. The eyes were familiar. They were the same shape as Carcel’s.

"Who is that, Aunt?" Ines asked, pointing at the portrait.

Rowena followed her hand. Her expression softened instantly. The mischief faded from her eyes, replaced by a deep, nostalgic sadness.

"That," Rowena said softly, "is Duchess Camellia Anderson. Carcel’s mother. And my sister."

Ines looked closer. The woman in the painting looked kind. She looked like someone who laughed often.

"Wow," Ines exclaimed. "She’s beautiful."

Rowena walked up to the painting. She reached out as if to touch the canvas, then dropped her hand. She nudged Ines softly with her elbow.

"You see why your husband is so handsome?" Rowena teased gently. "He took it all from his mother. It runs in the family. The Anderson men are usually quite... rugged. But Carcel got Camellia’s eyes."

Ines nodded. "He did."

She looked around the hallway again. She looked at the third Duke, the fourth Duke, the fifth Duke. They were all men.

"I noticed hers is the only female portrait on the wall," Ines said, frowning slightly. "Usually, the Duchesses are hung in the gallery or the drawing room. Why is she here, among the Dukes?"

Rowena sighed. She adjusted her shawl.

"Because he loved her," Rowena replied.

She looked at the portrait of Carcel’s father, hanging directly next to Camellia. He looked serious, intense, his eyes fixed not on the viewer, but angled slightly toward his wife’s painting.

"Carcel’s father," Rowena explained. "He loved her until his love turned into madness. He couldn’t bear to be separated from her, even in paint."

Ines felt a chill run down her spine. It sounded romantic, but also terrifying, knowing what caused the Duchess’s death.

"He loved this portrait so much," Rowena whispered, "that he hung it beside his to be staring at it after her death. He would come here, late at night, and just talk to her. He claimed she was the only he loved."

Rowena shook her head, shaking off the dark memory.

"That is why Carcel is so protective," Rowena added. "He saw that love. He saw how it consumed his father. But don’t worry, my dear. Carcel has his mother’s heart. He loves deeply, but he is sane."

Rowena cleared her throat loudly. Ahem.

She turned away from the wall, clapping her hands together.

"Well," Rowena said briskly, her cheerful mask back in place. "We need to keep up the pace if we are going to see the rest of the mansion before tea time. And I refuse to miss tea time."

Ines nodded as she followed her, taking one last look at the beautiful Camellia.

They left the hallway and walked down a flight of stairs.

"And this," Rowena announced, opening a set of double doors, "is the nursery."

Ines stepped inside. It was a large, sunny room painted in soft yellow. There was a rocking horse in the corner and an empty crib made of white wood. It was dust-free and waiting.

Ines blushed. "Oh. It is... prepared."

"Always prepared," Rowena winked. "But no rush. Enjoy your marriage first." 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

They moved on.

"Now," Rowena said, stopping before a heavy oak door. "This is my favorite surprise."

She pushed the door open.

Ines walked in and gasped.

It was the library. But it wasn’t a dark, dusty cave like most old libraries. It had been renovated.

The heavy velvet curtains had been replaced with sheer linen, letting light flood the room. The shelves were polished. And in the corner, near the biggest window, was a beautiful writing desk made of cherry wood. It had a view of the lake.

"Carcel renovated it to your taste," Rowena explained, watching Ines’s face. "He sent instructions months ago. He said, ’My wife loves to read and write. She needs light. She needs a view. And she needs a chair that won’t hurt her back.’"

Ines walked to the desk. She ran her hand over the smooth wood.

"He did this for me?" she whispered.

"He drove the carpenters mad," Rowena laughed. "But it looks perfect."

Ines felt tears prick her eyes. He really did listen. He really did care about her dreams.

"Come along, come along," Rowena urged gently. "Don’t cry yet. We have the garden."

They walked out the French doors onto the terrace. The fresh air hit Ines’s face, smelling of grass and earth.

Rowena led her down a stone path.

"This is the main garden," Rowena gestured to the manicured hedges. "But over there..."

She pointed to a separate, fenced-off plot of land near the greenhouse. It was tilled and ready for planting.

"...is for you," Rowena said. "A separate plot for Ines to grow anything she liked. Carcel said you might want to grow herbs, or poison ivy to keep people away."

Ines laughed. "Maybe strawberries."

"Strawberries are good," Rowena agreed. "Better than poison."

As they walked back toward the house, a line of people was waiting for them.

"I took the liberty of assembling the senior staff," Rowena said. "Since you were sleeping earlier."

She introduced the housekeeper, Mrs. Betty, and the head cook, Mr. Fry. Ines smiled and greeted them all by name.

Then, a man stepped forward. He was holding a black medical bag. He wore round spectacles and looked very serious.

"And this," Rowena said, her voice turning firm, "is Dr. Owen."

Ines blinked. "A doctor? Is someone ill?"

"No," Rowena said. "He is for you."

"Me?" Ines asked, confused.

"I heard from Carcel’s letters that you have a heart condition," Rowena stated. She looked at Ines with intense worry. "He said you fainted once. He said you have palpitations."

Ines sighed. "Aunt Rowena, that was... months ago. It was stress. I am much better now."

Ines tried to tell Rowena she’s better now. She held out her hands to show they were steady.

"I haven’t had an episode in a long time," Ines insisted. "Truly. The country air is already helping."

But Rowena wasn’t taking any chances. She crossed her arms.

"Nonsense," Rowena said. "Prevention is better than cure. Dr. Owen is a specialist. He will check your pulse every morning. He will make sure you are not overexerting yourself. If you sneeze, he will be there."

Dr. Owen bowed. "At your service, Your Grace."

Ines looked at the doctor, then at Rowena. She saw the fear in the older woman’s eyes—the fear of losing another family member. Rowena had lost a husband and a son. She wasn’t going to lose another person.

Ines softened. She couldn’t be angry at such love.

"Thank you, Aunt," Ines said gently. "I will let him check my pulse."

Rowena relaxed visibly. "Good. Good girl."

Ines was happy at how accommodating everyone was. Even if it was a bit overwhelming, it was nice to be cared for. It was nice to have a mother figure again.

"Now," Rowena said, linking arms with Ines again. "Let us go to the gazebo. It has the best view."

They walked down a winding path lined with vibrant flowers. They reached a white wooden gazebo covered in climbing vines.

Rowena sat down on the bench and patted the spot next to her. Ines sat down.

Rowena pointed to the rose bushes surrounding them. They were blooming in explosions of red and pink.

"Do you know," Rowena said, leaning in conspiratorially, "why the roses are so red this year?"

"Why?" Ines asked.

"Because the gardener, old Mr. McGregor, talks to them," Rowena whispered loudly. "But he doesn’t speak English. He speaks to them in Scottish Gaelic. I think he is threatening them. He tells them if they don’t bloom, he will feed them to the sheep."

Ines burst out laughing. She imagined the grumpy old gardener yelling at a delicate rose bush in a thick accent.

"That explains the thorns," Ines giggled. "They are defending themselves."

Rowena laughed with her.

"Exactly!" Rowena said.

They sat there in the gazebo, the sound of their laughter drifting up toward the balcony where Carcel was watching, the rose bushes blooming brightly around them.