The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 637

She stood by the edge of the pond, scattering feed for the fish. Winter sunlight warmed her shoulders, turning her dark hair into a waterfall of glimmering light. Her long lashes fluttered gently with each breath and movement, and even in profile, she was strikingly beautiful.

Around the garden, the housekeepers swept and tidied, but whenever the staff caught sight of the new lady of the house, they couldn’t help but marvel inwardly—Mr. Hawthorne had truly married a beauty.

The butler, noticing how much she enjoyed herself, had refreshments sent out to the garden. Most of the greenery in the Hawthorne estate had been chosen for their evergreen resilience, so even in the dead of winter, the grounds felt vibrant and alive.

After lingering for a while to enjoy the view, Gwyneth made her way to the study to fetch her easel and paints—especially the precious ultramarine she’d had ground from lapis lazuli, a gift from Hawthorne himself. He’d bought her all kinds of rare pigments. At first, she’d hesitated to use them, thinking it a pity to waste such treasures. Now, she realized it was even more wasteful to let them sit unused.

She set up her easel in the shade of a tree and began to sketch, translating the garden’s lively charm onto canvas.

The staff, never having seen anyone paint before, often found themselves sneaking glances at her focused expression, then walking away whispering in astonishment. To them, the new mistress wasn’t just beautiful—she was talented as well.

After two hours, most of the painting was done. Gwyneth felt a little lightheaded, so she sipped some tea and picked out a few of her favorite pastries.

She’d noticed earlier that the butler had sent tea out for her. Even after all this time, it was still piping hot, thanks to the clever black stone slab beneath the pot. The stone kept anything placed on it warm, but never too hot—so her tea had stayed at the perfect temperature, the flavor unchanged.

She’d seen plenty of clever things in her life, so this didn’t surprise her.

After stretching her legs by the pond and feeding the fish a little more, Gwyneth returned to her seat and took out a block of red sealing wax, ready to carve a new stamp.

Still, her memory served her well—she could recreate the intricate patterns from childhood recollection. By the time she finished carving, it was well past lunchtime. The butler, knowing she’d had a late breakfast, hadn’t come to fetch her.

It wasn’t until Hawthorne returned and found her absent from the house that he discovered she’d spent the better part of the morning and afternoon out in the garden.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, appearing with a brown paper bag.

He handed her the savory pastries and a steaming cup of rich stew he’d picked up on his way home. The delicious aroma made Gwyneth’s stomach rumble in anticipation.