Grace bristled, but her voice sounded steady. “I would not be so forward to say that I am expert in anything, but I know enough about orchids to know to cut them off at the base of the stem.”
The stranger felt a stirring of interest at her retort, but he maintained his sneer-like expression. “And why not cut it just below the break?” His tone was clearly mocking.
“I could have, and that way there would have been a chance it would have flowered again this year, but the blooms would have probably been small. Cutting it at the base of the stem won’t harm the plant, and next year, hopefully, there will be a new stem and larger blooms,” Grace responded, blushing at saying so much to a stranger and in the tone of voice she had used, but she was trying desperately not to let him see he intimidated her.
A slight nod was all the acknowledgement she received for her answer, so after a moment of silence between the pair she bent down and picked up her shears and popped them back in her pocket. Her blush deepened when once again she saw a raised eyebrow cocked at her, but she didn’t say anything. It was nothing to do with him that she always carried shears with her when in a garden, quite often in parkland as well; but again, she was not about to start explaining her ways to the stranger.
She moved towards the man and brushed passed him, trying not to notice how he seemed to tower over her or that he smelled of the outdoors. She reached the bench without turning back, quickly picking up her belongings and, with a haughty “Goodbye,” she left the orangery and walked quickly across the lawn towards Sudworth Hall.
Harry groaned when he saw her walking towards the Hall. He had no idea who she was, and he had not stopped to consider she might be a guest of the family. Her hair had been disarrayed, and she had smudges on her cheek. At first he thought she was one of the scullery girls; they were as tiny as she, but when she had turned to him, he could see she was older and her dress, although a day dress, was of far finer quality than any scullery maid would ever own. She had actually taken his breath away; she looked just like the fairies described in the few children’s stories he had been told as a child.
A niggle of something began to stir his memory; he seemed to recall some of the staff talking over one of the evening meals about the Duchess’s sister coming to visit. He had not really listened; very little in the house had an impact on him, so he just concentrated on enjoying his food. He cursed himself for not listening now; it was highly likely he had just insulted the sister of the Duchess. He had not linked the two together as she did not resemble the Duchess in any way; the Duchess was a very tall woman with dark hair and eyes, nothing like the vision that had disturbed his afternoon.
He groaned; he had been an idiot: he should have checked who she was before opening his big mouth. It was no excuse that he spent so much time nurturing the orchids, so he felt protective towards them; they were his passion. His shoulders sagged in defeat; he presumed it was not too many hours before he was cast off without a reference. Sometimes he was a damn fool!
Annabelle: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters' Series Book 2) Page 22
