Angelica's Birthday Present

The quietness around the small lake died as the sound of a horse galloping towards it became nearer and louder. Riding the animal, Lord Kenneth Foskett, also known by the suggestive moniker Wickers, felt the wind tickle his well-trimmed beard as he came to a stop at the border.

A servant rode behind him, pulling a wooden cart containing the various painting supplies he would use that afternoon. After everything was unloaded, Kenneth dismissed him and proceeded to set up a blank canvas and a small table with his brushes.

He wasn’t used to painting his models outside in the nature, preferring the privacy of his studio back at the house instead, but he couldn’t ignore the request of this particular model. A memory of the previous evening flashed through his mind.

The Fosketts were already retiring to their respective bedrooms after Angelica’s eighteenth birthday supper when Kenneth felt a light touch on his right arm. He turned around to face his smiling youngest daughter.

“Angelica, my dear,” He returned her smile. “Was the meal to your liking?”

“Oh, yes, father, thank you for telling Madame Petit to prepare my favorites.” The young girl’s green eyes twinkled, although her voice had an aloof tone to it.

Wickers caught that, it seemed his little Angel was holding something from him. “Something wrong, Angelica? Did you like your presents?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The gifts were fine as well, father,” Angelica twirled a strand of her golden hair around her index finger. “It’s just that, I was hoping to ask you for something else, one last present, if you will.”

Now the young girl had piqued the curiosity of the Lord of Cockshoots Hall. “Is that so?” He inquired, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. “And what this present would be, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

Angelica took a deep breath, her green eyes staring up into her father’s identical ones. “I want a drawing of myself,” She managed to answer. “Done by you.”

Kenneth raised his other eyebrow. “A drawing, huh?” He inquired, caught by surprise. “I’d be delighted, Angel, but why me?”

Angelica simply smiled at the question. “That is very simple, father, as a fellow artist, you were the artist I’ve always admired the most, that’s all.” She replied.

He had to grin at that, it seemed his daughter’s sweetness knew no boundaries. “Well, after this lovely compliment, how could I refuse my equally lovely daughter?”

The blonde girl’s smile widened and she raised on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around her father’s head in a hug. “Thank you, father, it means so much to me!” She gushed, briefly kissing his cheek. “I want to do it at my pool.”

“But, Angelica, I always paint my models in my studio,” Kenneth countered. “The staff is always roaming outside as well.”

“Please, father, it’ll be a beautiful painting with the pool and the trees in the background,” Angel insisted, a hopeful expression on her features. “And you can tell the servants beforehand to stay clear of that area.”

”She has a point, the scenery can make the painting even better,” Wickers scratched his beard, a thoughtful look on his face. “Alright, my Angel, let’s do it tomorrow, at afternoon.”

“Thank you! It’ll be so pretty!” The green-eyed girl gushed. “You’ll see!”

Kenneth chuckled. ”I wonder if she considered how I always draw my models before asking me.”

That question started bothering Wickers ever since he woke up that morning. He knew Angelica rode her horse in the nude sometimes. ”But to ask her to take off her clothes for a portrait?” He started to debate the morality of that question before the sound of more horses arriving brought him out of his reverie.

Angelica emerged from the tree line riding her beloved white horse as a female servant rode behind her carrying a basket. Angel dismounted her horse, took the basket from the woman and dismissed her. She tied up her horse to a tree and walked over to her father.

“Sorry I’m a bit late, father,” The blonde girl apologized with a sheepish smile before showing him the basket. “I just thought we could eat something after you finish the portrait.”

Kenneth smiled. “Good thinking, dear,” He said, before his face took on a more somber expression. “Angel, before we begin, well,…”

“It’s about what I should be wearing while you draw me, isn’t it?” She interrupted her father, her own smile faltering a little. “Or more accurately, what I shouldn’t be wearing.”

Wickers stared down into his daughter’s lovely green eyes and opened his mouth to answer.