The Duke's Rose: A Clean Historical Regency Romance (Tales of Bath)

by Kira Stewart

  “Let us change the subject. What do you think of this garden? I think it is a magical place?”

  “I expect it was a lovely garden once, but it is rather neglected.”

  “It belonged to Catherine, Sir Henry’s first wife. It was her garden. She loved nature and would sit in here for hours, either painting or reading, or simply enjoying the garden. I remember coming here as a young boy and was enchanted by the place, full of roses and the sweet smell of lavender. Catherine Faversham was a beautiful woman, both inside and out, and I longed for her to be my mother. You see, my own mother died when I was young, and my father was not an affectionate man. Catherine longed for children of her own. I was but a boy of seven, and she would kiss and hug me, as if I were her own. It was such a blow when she died. I cried for weeks. And of course, poor Henry, was never the same. But now you have come along, perhaps he will be better.”

  “Perhaps. My parents died also when I was young. I know how hard it is to live without love for so long.”

  Edward looked sad for a moment.

  “We are both the same, you and I. Orphans in need of shelter. I see now why you stay with my cousin. Forgive me. Now look, we are becoming too sad, and the day is too beautiful. Come, let me show you the rest of the garden.”

  Taking her affectionately by the hand, he took her through the brambles and the overgrown beds, pointing out where the first snowdrops were hiding and the green shoots of the daffodils and tulips were already readying themselves for the spring.

  In the distance, the church bells called out across the fields.

  Annabelle counted as the bells tolled.

  “Gracious, it is noon already. They will be wondering where I am. I must get back. Thank you, Sir, for showing me the garden, it is most beautiful.”

  “Almost as beautiful as its new mistress,” he sighed.

  But she had left already, and his words were lost to the birds.

  15.

  Annabelle tried to put the young man out of her mind. His direct stare and piercing blue eyes made her feel uncomfortable, and yet, there was something about him that stirred her heart.

  Sir Henry had been busy with his Estates Manager all morning and had not noticed her absence, so she only saw him over dinner.

  He noticed immediately a new freshness about her.

  “You look well, my dear. I hope you have been able to amuse yourself today? I am afraid it can be rather lonely up here, but you can always ask Perkins to drive you out somewhere in the carriage. You need only ask.”

  “I explored the gardens this morning. It was such a beautiful day. I was looking for Tom, to ask if I could make a few changes to the vegetable garden in front of the kitchen.”

  “And did you?”

  The girl hesitated, wondering how much to tell. In the end, she decided not to mention her encounter with Edward.

  “Whilst I was looking for him, I came across the walled garden. It seems much neglected?”

  “Ah, dear Catherine’s garden, yes, that was once the most beautiful part of the garden, but I have not been able to go there since her death. The memories were too bitter. I told old Tom to bolt the gate and leave the place to nature. I expect it is much spoiled now?”

  His eyes drifted to somewhere in the past and he looked wistful for a moment.

  “The garden was my wedding present to her. I had it planted with roses and lavender and honeysuckle, and a myriad other sweet smelling plants and herbs. She called it her little piece of heaven. We would often sit there, together you know, and take our tea out there. She would read aloud to me.”’

  He stopped quickly, his eyes misting up.

  “But now, it is all gone, I suppose.”

  “Well, the garden is quite overgrown now, but it is still a beautiful place. It is quite an enchanted garden, like something out of the fairytale, “The Enchanted Beauty in the Woods.” I had a printed book of the story as a young girl, with a print of the enchanted castle, surrounded by ivy and brambles, but when the handsome prince arrived, he turned the thorns into roses. Perhaps we can do that with the garden? With a little care and love, I am sure we can return it to its sleeping beauty once more.”

  Sir Henry smiled. “It would be nice to see it as it once was. Of course, the past can never return, but let’s see what can be done. It will need a little more than love to turn it around, I fear. It will need hard work, but I will speak to old Tom to see what can be done.”

  “Oh, please let me speak with him, Henry. Spring is almost here and I would love to have something to focus on. The fresh air will do me good. Let me speak to Tom and see what can be done. But you must promise not to come into the garden, until it is finished. It must be kept a surprise, until we are finished. Do you promise?”

  •••

  The very next day, Annabelle found Tom, and together they looked around the garden. The old man scratched his head as he surveyed the garden he had not seen for nearly ten years.

  “It will take some work, Miss, and I will not lie to you. I will need some help to clear this place. It is such a shame. This was such a pretty garden. It would be nice to see it restored again.”

  Just at that moment, Edward Lennox appeared.

  “I fear my secret place will never be the same again.”

  The young man smiled and bowed, and Annabelle felt the familiar flip of her heart.

  “The mistress wants the garden clear, Sir, but I am just saying that it will take some clearing.”

  “Well, I can help. I must confess, I know nothing about gardening. In fact, I have no useful or practical skills at all, but I am strong, and would be more than willing to offer my services, at least whilst I am still living here. I can start this very morning, if necessary.”

  A deal was struck, and without a moment to lose, Tom and Edward fetched the necessary gardening implements required for the job at hand, and started to pull at the brambles and weeds.

  Within half an hour, the young man had torn his shirt, and there were streaks of red on his arms, where he had rolled up his sleeves and the bramble thorns had scratched and pulled at his soft skin. Despite the coolness of the day, the young man had worked up a sweat, and within no time at all, his white shirt was plastered to his torso, showing off the contours of his lean body. Annabelle did not realise that she had been watching him for so long, until he paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, and looked across to her and smiled.

  “You will catch cold just standing there. You could be useful, cousin, and fetch some lunch for the workers. I’m sure the intrepid Mrs. Shaw can rustle up something for us laborers?”

  What a difference a few days had made to the young man. Where he had once been pallid and red eyed, he now looked the picture of health, and she could scarcely believe it was the same young man. There was a glow in his cheeks and his eyes shone brightly. Walking quickly back to the house, Annabelle could not help smiling, and found she was humming a tune.

  It was snatches of “Drown it in the Bowl.”

  •••

  By the end of the afternoon, most of the ivy and brambles had been cut away, leaving a small clearing in the wilderness, although there was still much left to be done. Edward Lennox was covered in dirt from head to toe, and now his trousers, as well as his shirt, were torn.

  “Oh sir, you will need to bathe. I will give Jenny your clothes to wash, although they will need to be repaired first. I will sew them for you. It is the least I can do, after all your hard work today.”

  It was hard not to laugh, looking at his dirt-smeared face, and she tried to suppress a giggle.

  “I think it is most ungallant of you, dear cousin, to make fun of my appearance, especially since I have been working so hard. I do not know why you are laughing, you too, have dirt on your face.”

  Touching her face, she tried to feel.

  “Where, cousin?”

  “Come here and I will brush it off with my handkerchief.”

  As she approached him, he reached
out with a dirty finger and smeared it across her nose.

  “There you see, you have dirt on your pretty nose. Haha! Now you look like a waif and stray, just like me.”

  Annabelle laughed at his tomfoolery and stood still, whilst he produced a pristine white cotton handkerchief from his pocket and brushed the dirt away from her face.

  His fingers brushed gently against her cheek, and as he pulled his hand away, they slid gently across her lips.

  She blushed heavily, not knowing whether he had done it on purpose or not.

  Seeing her discomfort at his closeness, he quickly changed the conversation.

  “I do not have the means of bathing in my lodgings. I wonder if I could come up to the house. I promise to keep out of Sir Henry’s way. I can bathe in the scullery and give poor Mrs. Shaw a fright. What do you say?”

  16.

  Elsie Shaw promised to keep quiet about the situation, although she did not quite approve of the young man. A tin bath was brought into the kitchen, placed in front of the kitchen range and the water heated. Annabelle fetched an old dressing gown of her husband’s for the young man to wear, whilst he undressed in the scullery. Entering the kitchen, she was shocked to see him dressed only on his tattered white shirt, the edges skimming his thighs.

  She looked away immediately, blushing profusely.

  “I am sorry, Sir. I thought that you were still in the scullery. If you will give me your clothes quickly, I will see that they are washed and mended.”

  “You want me to remove my shirt, cousin? I am quite naked underneath?”

  The young girl blushed again.

  “I joke, cousin, and you must call me Edward, or at least cousin. We are friends, are we not? Now, be a good girl and shout out for Mrs. Shaw to bring the hot water. She shall not be embarrassed by my undress. I will leave these things in the scullery to be taken away and washed. There, you had better go, before you feel compromised.”

  With her eyes almost shut, she made her way carefully out of the room. The sooner he was bathed and dressed the better.

  •••

  When Sir Henry came to sit with her in the Drawing Room, just before dinner, he found Annabelle sat in front of the fire, with a needle and thread in hand. She had just started to mend the rips in her cousin’s shirt.

  “You should leave the mending to Jenny. You are mistress of the house now. What have you got there, you’re not mending one of my shirts, are you? You will ruin your eyes in this light.”

  The sun was sinking to the west and long shadows played across the room. Annabelle had not noticed the passage of time, but had been concentrating on mending the shirt, as neatly as she could. Somehow, she had wanted to make the stitches herself, not leave it to the servants. There was something very personal in the way she bent closely to the fabric, making tiny stitches that could barely been seen. She was glad to be concealed in the half shadows, only her face lit by the glow of the fire.

  “It is your cousin’s shirt, Henry. He kindly helped Tom clear part of the walled garden this afternoon, but I am afraid that his clothing was spoilt in the effort. I said I would try and make them good again. I hope you do not mind?”

  Sir Henry had almost forgotten about his cousin Edward lodging in the Gatehouse. The man had been so quiet and kept out of his way that he assumed he must have gone away again.

  He gave a quick snort in response.

  “I see. Well, I suppose he should make himself useful whilst he is here, the least he can do to repay my generosity. Still, I do not know why you should take on the work. You are too kind-hearted for your own good.”

  Annabelle smiled.

  “I like to be kept busy, Henry, and it pleases me to be helpful.”

  “Did Edward say how long he would be staying here?”

  “He did not mention it, but he did say that he would help with the garden for as long as he could. Poor Tom is getting on in years now, and it will make the work so much quicker.”

  Henry looked thoughtful.

  “And I suppose that you would like him to stay here a little longer?”

  Concentrating on her needlework, she did not look up at him and hoped that he did not see her hand slightly shaking.

  “If it means that the garden will be ready for the summer, then yes, it would be a great help.”

  “Hmmmm …” Sir Henry looked deep in thought. “If that is the case, then I will drop by to see him and tell him he can stay until the work is finished. Not a day later, though. I will ask Mrs. Shaw to make sure he is comfortable in the Gatehouse.”

  “Is he really so terrible, Henry? He seems much altered from the day we arrived home to find him lying in the Drawing Room. He could almost be a different man.”

  The man sighed and gave a sad smile.

  “My cousin Edward was a beautiful boy. My late wife Catherine was especially fond of him. He used to come here, you know, and play in the grounds. Catherine adored him, especially with wanting children of her own. All was well, until his mother, my cousin Emily, died. He was about seven years old. His mother was his world. Emily was a beautiful woman, both inside and out. When she died, the light went out of his life. His father, the Duke, was not a very emotional man, but Emily had softened him. Her death was a blow to him, and he had never really recovered.

  “The boy you see, looked so much like his mother, that his father could not bear to look at him, and so sent him away to school. I do not think he enjoyed it much and missed his mother dreadfully. I fear some of the other boys may have bullied him. If Catherine had lived, I suppose we could have looked after the boy. I never heard much from the Duke after that, and with the death of Catherine, I hid myself away. That is until one day, about five years ago, when Edward turned up on my doorstep, drunk and in much the same state that you first saw him in. His father had threatened to disinherit him and pass the Dukedom on to a nephew. I had little patience myself, but for the sake of Catherine, and my late cousin’s memory, I gave him a roof for a few months” Henry paused as he thought about that time.

  “All was well for a while, but then there was an incident in the village. Edward got drunk one night and there was a fight over a young woman in the village. A man who works on my Estate was critically injured. It put me in a very awkward position. I sent him away, and have rarely heard from him since then. I gave him a quantity of money, in the hope that he would stay away. I should have done more for the boy, although, it seems as though the years have not much changed him.”

  “But if you could have seen him today, Henry, and how hard he worked. It does not sound like the same man.”

  “I see Edward has a champion in you. I will have to watch my step. Now, leave that sewing to Jenny. It is time for dinner.”

  17.

  For the next few days and following weeks, the weather stayed fine, and work began in earnest on the walled garden. Once the initial clearing had taken place, the garden started to take shape, and the original beauty began to be restored. The days took on a gentle rhythm, and Annabelle had never been happier. She awoke early, as the mornings grew lighter, and without being conscious of it, would start to sing snatches of the songs she had heard Edward sing. If Sir Henry heard, he did not mention it.

  The work would start early, before breakfast, and the girl would arrange for hot drinks, bread and butter and cake to be brought down to the workers, where she would join them. A heavy cold had kept Sir Henry in bed, leaving her free to take her meals where and when she wished. Most of the hard work was complete, and she could join in the lighter work, such as the pruning of the old rambling roses and planting of the new bulbs and seeds.

  Each night, she would take her dinner on a tray in Henry’s room and tell him all about her day. He noted with sadness, the brightness in her eyes and the excitement in her voice, as she spoke with enthusiasm about the garden, a task that he could not share with her. Although she kept her talk of the young man to a minimum, deep down, he knew that her lightness of heart had little to do with the g
arden, and was more about his cousin. Two young people thrown together, it was obvious that Annabelle would delight in the company of a younger man, not an old cripple like himself. Over the days and weeks, Sir Henry began to brood, as the friendship between Annabelle and Edward grew.

  •••

  One day, whilst she was pruning, a thorn stabbed and stuck in her thumb, a small pearl of deep red blood forming on the spot.

  “Ouch.” The girl lifted her thumb to inspect the wound.

  “Here, cousin, let me help.”

  The young man gallantly produced his handkerchief, and gently taking her hand, inspected the damage.

  “A nasty thorn, cousin. Here, there is only one way to remove it, if I may?”

  Bending his face toward her hand, he brought her thumb to his lips and gently placing her thumb between them, sucked until the thorn was removed, as tiny drops of her blood smearing his lips.

  An inward shiver shook the girl at the tender act, and her heart beat heavily, as he wrapped her thumb in his handkerchief. Her hand remained in his, and for a moment, his face softened toward her, his blue eyes almost misty as he looked into hers.

  “There, cousin, it is done. I do not think it will cause you any lasting damage.”

  His voice was soft and deep.

  Yet the damage was already done. If Annabelle had not realized it before, she was falling in love with Edward Lennox, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Suddenly, the lightness she had felt around her cousin disappeared, and was replaced by something dark and disturbing. It was an impossible situation, and where her heart had once been full of joy, it was now filled with an ache and longing that could never be fulfilled.

  •••

  The next day, she stayed indoors and sat with Sir Henry. It was no good to brood about Edward. Sir Henry had been good to her, and she must forget all about the young man. She was married to a kind man and she would be forever in his debt. If she did not see her cousin, then she would forget him.