Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
—
"Carter is coming." Poppy walked inside the morning room where the whole of the Ainsworth family were relaxing after a busy morning of entertaining callers.
"Carter's coming?" Duchess Ainsworth asked.
"Carter? Why is he coming?" Grecia sat up from where she was embroidering a small bouquet of roses into a silk handkerchief.
Carter had been announcing callers all morning and escorting them in and out of the Ainsworth house. With the morning over, Grecia assumed there'd be no more callers.
"I wonder which desperate Lord is going to grace our halls now." Adam grumbled.
Byron elbowed him and he groaned but silenced himself when they heard the loud clacking of two pairs of feet; Carter's and their mystery visitor.
"The Viscount Bridgerton." He announced.
Anthony walked in and offered everyone a small smile, taking in their shocked faces in mild confusion.
"For Lord Ainsworth." Carter continued and bowed before leaving.
"Anthony, thank you for meeting me." Grecia's father stood up and they shook hands. "Shall we convene in my study?"
Antony nodded, "Of course."
He sent a polite smile to the rest of the Bridgertons before following Lord Ainsworth out of the morning room.
Byron huffed, "Well, that was dull."
Adam laughed humorlessly and grabbed a biscuit from the tray and munched on it. Grecia rolled her eyes and took a biscuit for herself.
"Well, I'm going to take my leave now. Mother. Brothers." Grecia nodded and walked out of the room.
She hummed a mellow tune as she walked through the halls of her house, towards the room she spent most of her days in—her art room. Where she did everything from paint to draw to sculpt; anything really.
So while Grecia got swept up in the world she'd created in her newest painting, every stroke of her brush expressing something she could never even attempt to put into words.
The hours flew by, but it was barely noticeable compared to the tranquility that painting brought her. It was only until she heard a knock at her door that her concentration was broken. She whirled around, brush in hand and eyes wide, and saw Anthony at the door.
Anthony let out a little laugh when he saw her face. "You have paint all over you."
Grecia cleared her throat and tried to wipe some of the paint off her face. "My lord, I was not aware you were still here."
Anthony nodded and stepped inside the room, looking around at all the framed paintings balanced against the walls on the floor and the ornate French doors that led to the gardens outside.
