“I never said that.”
“Not in those precise words. How did you say it?” She thought for a moment. “Ah, yes. You said my representation of Garret and Tempest was unbecoming. That my place was at home.”
He winced. “I said that, did I?”
“And with a great deal of conviction.”
“I hope you won’t hold that against me.”
“Oh, but I will.”
“And if I apologize?”
“If your apology is sincere.”
“I’ll have you know I rarely make insincere apologies,” he said staunchly. “If I have reached the conclusion that I was wrong, then I am more than willing to admit it.”
“I see. And were you wrong?”
“I was certainly wrong to be so adamant, so pompous.”
“But you do believe a woman has no place in business and should remain at home.”
“I think . . .” He chose his words carefully. “All of us—male or female—have our own reasons for deciding to do what we feel we must. Or perhaps what we want. We must be content with our choices, with choosing the course of action we feel is right, whether or not other people agree.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What an excellent answer, my lord. It certainly wasn’t the answer to my question but a good answer nonetheless.”
“Thank you.” He grinned. “Oh, my mother asked that I give you this.” He pulled a note from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her.
“And you have quite deftly changed the subject.” She accepted the note and unfolded it.
“Clever of me, wasn’t it?”
“But then you are a very clever man,” she said under her breath. It did not sound like a compliment.
“Well?”
“Well, this is interesting.”
“Has she invited you for tea again?” He pulled the carriage to a halt, hopped out and circled around to help her down.
“In a manner of speaking.” She refolded the note, reached out to accept the offer of his hand and allowed him to help her out of the gig. Her attire today was far more casual than at their previous meetings. With the exception of her dreadful shoes—which seemed to be permanently attached to her feet—her apparel had always been moderately fashionable, if reserved, and perfectly proper, as it was today. It was simply more practical in style, almost as if she intended to pick up a hammer herself. He wouldn’t put it past her. Her gloved hand fit nicely in his and the vaguest hint of loss washed through him when she pulled her hand away. She looked around. “I’m afraid I don’t see much in terms of architectural interest. Although the trees and road appear structurally sound.”
“We’re not there yet.” He pulled a basket from the back of the gig.
She raised a brow. “A picnic, my lord?”
“It did seem a shame to waste a fine spring day on nothing but work.”
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded, and he had the distinct impression she had made some sort of decision. She smiled. “It does indeed.”
He returned her smile. Thus far, this was going better than he had hoped, but then Lady Garret’s manner was somehow different today. And most delightful.
“It’s just down this path.”
She eyed the narrow path warily. “Why don’t you go first?”
“Excellent idea.” He started down the path and looked back at her over his shoulder. “I never thought I would admit to this, but those shoes of yours should serve you well today.”
“They are sensible.”
“That’s not all they are.” He chuckled. “I do apologize that the path is not smoother, but it’s scarcely used. Indeed there wasn’t a path here at all until a few years ago. The only way to get to where we are going was on horseback or by foot. But I decided a path to the road would be convenient.”
“Convenient to what?”
“You shall see.” They walked on for a few more minutes until the path opened up. He stepped aside and allowed her to precede him. Then held his breath.
“Oh my.” Lady Garret stared at the small structure centered in the clearing.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s lovely.” Her eyes widened and she stepped closer. “It looks like a Grecian temple.”
Six stone columns on a six-sided base supported a domed roof. Stone benches curved between two pairs of columns. The building nestled amidst flowering spring blossoms and a neatly manicured lawn. A ray of sunlight peeked through the trees and cast the small structure in a radiant glow. He bit back a satisfied grin. Perfect.
“I daresay it’s more someone’s idea of a Greek temple and probably not at all accurate. It’s a folly, really.”
“I’ve always loved follies.” She ran her hand up one of the columns. “It’s marble, isn’t it?”
“I believe so.” He had loved this building and this spot from the time he had first found it as a boy. “It was built some two hundred years ago.”
“The columns are ionic,” she murmured. “It’s really quite . . .” She glanced at him. “Magical, isn’t it?”
“I’ve always thought so.” He smiled. “If one is here at night, depending on the time of year, one might see fireflies flitting about like dancing fairies.”
“How very whimsical of you, my lord.”
“I can be very whimsical.” He paused. “When I was a boy I thought this surely was where Titania and Oberon and all of the fairies lived. I was convinced they came out at night to frolic in the clearing.”
She nodded. “Because of the Grecian style of the folly and the fact that A Midsummer Night’s Dream is set outside Athens?”
“Not really. More because I hoped to catch one and I believed this was the best place to do that.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “They’re supposed to grant wishes, you see.”
“Ah, yes. Well, of course.” She nodded solemnly. “I can see where that might be useful.”
He heaved a theatrical sigh. “I never did catch a fairy.”
“And you never got your wish.” Sympathy sounded in her voice, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.
“However, I have not given up.”
“On catching a fairy?”
“On getting a wish.” His gaze caught hers and they laughed in unison. He liked her laugh. Better yet, he liked making her laugh.
“And what would you wish for?”
“It changes from day to day, I suppose.” Win waved her into the folly. “When I was a little boy I wanted to fly.”
“In a balloon, you mean.” She stepped into the folly and settled on one of the benches.
“No.” He scoffed and moved to the opposite bench. “I wanted wings. I thought flying would be a most convenient way to get about. And, of course, as my cousin wouldn’t have wings, I could lord my wings over him.”
“I see. And now what do you wish for?”
“Well, I would still like wings, however I do now understand the impracticality of such appendages.”
“So your wishes have become more practical?”
“We all grow up, Lady Garret.” He set the basket down and opened it. “For one thing, I wish my tailor would be more accurate with my measurements.”
She laughed.
“I assure you, ill-fitting trousers are not the least bit amusing.”
He peered into the basket. He had no idea what Cook might have prepared, but he was confident it would be excellent even if she was unused to the kitchen at Millworth. Win wasn’t alone in trying to adjust to the changes in life wrought by the fire. But Cook had always enjoyed preparing a special basket for him and whatever guest he might have. This was not his first picnic.
“No doubt. Anything else?”
“A month ago, I would have said I wished Fairborough had not burned.”
“And now?”
“Now . . .” He shrugged. “I still wish that, but there’s nothing to be done about it so it’s a wish wasted.”
“It does seem a shame to waste a wish.”
“I never imagined you were.” She trailed her fingers over the stone bench. “This is really a lovely surprise. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“In truth, I was going to bring you to the lake. But then you mentioned Greece and this seemed especially appropriate.”
“I’m not sure why I mentioned Greece except that you asked and, well, I’ve never told anyone else. It’s a silly dream, really.”
“Then I am honored that you confided in me.” He met her gaze and smiled into her eyes. Today, in the sunlight, they had a distinct green cast to them as if she were a nymph of ancient Greece transported to England, or a creature of the forest who danced with fairies. “Dreams, Lady Garret, are never utter nonsense.”
For a long moment they stared at one another. He couldn’t pull his gaze from hers. Nor did he wish to. For one brief instant he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in those eyes of hers.
At last she cleared her throat and smiled politely. “So, do you bring a lot of ladies here?”
“No.” He cast her a sharp look and the moment vanished. “This is not the sort of place I bring women for purposes of seduction.”
“I didn’t mean to imply . . .”
He arched a skeptical brow.
“My apologies,” she murmured.
“And the last time I did bring a lady here, well, let us just say she did not share your appreciation. Some people look at a folly and see no more than an error in judgment, a frivolity. I do not share this with everyone.”
“I see,” she said in a weak voice that was nonetheless gratifying.
“The folly was in an awful state of disrepair until about five or six years ago. I’m afraid we had neglected it dreadfully.” He pulled out a large, cloth-wrapped bundle. Sliced ham probably, and entirely more than was needed. He set it aside. “I decided then it was too, well, special to be allowed to fall to pieces.”
“Where would the fairies frolic if it was gone?”
“Exactly.” There was as well bread and cheese, cake and—he noted with satisfaction—a jar of honeyed fruit. “So I had it repaired and I had the path made to make it easier for the gardeners.” He gazed between the columns and surveyed the clearing. In spite of the distraction of the fire this year, Win was delighted to note the gardeners had not forgotten the folly. “This is the first time I’ve been here this season. They’ve done an excellent job.”
“It is really quite beautiful.”
“Aha. I thought as much.” He pulled out a heavy, wrapped bottle, still cold from the cellar. “Champagne.”
“For luncheon?”
“Why not?”
“Because it goes straight to my head and I would much prefer to have my head clear for the remainder of the day.”
“You have my solemn promise, Lady Garret, that should I notice you becoming the least bit tipsy, I shall wrench the cup from your hand and dispose of it.” He raised his chin bravely. “Even if that means I shall drink it myself.”
“You are too kind, my lord.” She studied him for a moment. “Why not indeed?”
She stood and crossed the folly to the basket. Plates, utensils and glasses were strapped to the inner sides of the wicker container. She unfastened the glasses while he opened the champagne.
He filled their glasses, then raised his in a toast. “To the successful rebuilding of Fairborough Hall and all that goes with it.”
She raised her cup. “Including electrification.”
“Including electrification.” He sighed. “God help us all.”
She took a sip of the wine. “You do not capitulate easily, do you, my lord?”
“In that I suspect we have much in common,” he said wryly. “Now then, if we do not eat nearly every morsel that Cook has prepared, I warn you there will be hell to pay. And it will take the form of tough roast beef and undercooked potatoes.”
“We can’t have that.”
They filled their plates and settled on opposite benches to partake of Cook’s offerings. Lady Garret ate with enthusiasm; she had indeed been hungry. The food was excellent and he would have to remember to commend Cook.
When she had nearly finished she sat back and sighed with satisfaction. “Excellent, my lord. Really very good.”
“I shall give your compliments to Cook.”
“Please do.” She looked around. “How did this folly come to be here? It’s a rather inconvenient location, isn’t it?”
“Deliberately so.” He wiped his hands with a serviette and tossed it into the basket. “There’s one exactly like it on the grounds of Millworth Park. That one was built by the owner for his wife, a testament to their love. This one was built as a surprise by his son, Thomas, for the daughter of the owner of Fairborough. Her name was Anne. They were very much in love, you see.”
“What a romantic tale.”
“Unfortunately, all did not end well.” He shook his head. “He was reported to be lost at sea but she never believed it. She pined away for him and died just days before he returned.”
“Oh my.” Sympathy shone in her eyes. “How very sad.”
“He died right here shortly after his return. Some say by his own hand, others suspected foul play. They’re buried here near the folly although exactly where is unknown. Ironic as this is where they were supposed to be married.” He paused for a moment. He had always enjoyed telling this story, but today it seemed entirely too tragic. “It is said the lovers were reunited in death and . . .” He braced himself. The last time he had told a woman this she had thought he was a lunatic. “There have been reports of their presence here and in the folly at Millworth.”
Her eyes widened. “Ghosts?”
He nodded.
“How intriguing.” She stared in fascination. “Have you ever seen them?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“Did you really?”
“It was years ago.” He shrugged as if it was of no importance, as if this sort of thing happened every day. “My cousin and I both saw them.”
“How fascinating.” She leaned forward eagerly. “Tell me, what did they look like?”
“They looked like . . . ghosts.”
“Could you see through them?”
“They weren’t entirely transparent, but they weren’t completely solid either.”
She nodded. “Understandable, of course.”
“Anne was a beautiful young woman. One of the portraits Mother saved from the fire was of her.”
“I should love to see it.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Do you think we could get them back?”
He started. “What do you mean ‘get them back’?”
“I mean have you ever thought of having a séance?”
“Here?” Now who was the lunatic?
“This would be the perfect spot for it. This is where Thomas died and where he and Anne were supposed to be married. No wonder they returned. I mean, I certainly would.”
He stared in disbelief. “I thought you of all people would think this was absurd.”
She straightened with surprise. “Why?”
“Well, you’re so very rational and sensible.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“No-nonsense, really. Even if you don’t say a word, one can see that from the way you dress.”
“Are you talking about my shoes again?”
“Aside from your shoes . . .” He shuddered. “Your clothing is eminently practical. Why, one can see you’re a woman who values function over silly things like fashion.”
“Am I?”
“Efficient and competent as well.”
“I do try,” she said slowly.
“And assertive.” He nodded. “Unyielding, really. Forceful even.”
“Assertive?” Her eyes narrowed. “Unyielding?”
“Why until today, I have felt that I was in the company of a governess.” The words were out before he could stop th
em.
She sucked in a shocked breath. “A governess?”
“I always quite liked my governesses,” he said quickly, not that it made matters any better.
She rose to her feet. “Aside from a few rather terse conversations, you know nothing about me, my lord.”
“I know you like architecture.” He stood.
“Oh, and that was difficult to determine, wasn’t it?” She downed the remaining champagne in her glass, collected the plates and other items they had scattered around, and fairly threw them into the basket.
“Lady Garret—”
She slammed the lid of the basket closed. He didn’t think it was possible to slam wicker, but she managed it.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“And yet you have.”
“I don’t know why you’re so upset. It’s not as if I said you were dull or ordinary.”
“Oh, and I do thank you for that. Sensible, rational, assertive and unyielding are so very much better. For a governess !”
“Miranda—”
She whirled to face him. “Don’t you dare use my given name!”
“I thought perhaps we were becoming friends,” he said hopefully, although obviously he was mistaken.
“Friends? Ha!” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you always friends with your governesses?”
“I always got on well with my governesses. I was quite likeable as a lad. They very nearly always adored me.”
“Well, I do not!” She stepped off the folly and started across the clearing.
He grabbed the basket and hurried after her. “Lady Garret—”
She turned on her heel and he nearly ran her over.
“Do you want to know what I thought of you until today?” Fire flashed in her eyes and by all that’s holy, he could swear they were green. Bright, angry green.
He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
She cast him a scathing glare. “Then you are infinitely smarter than you appear.” She turned and started down the path.
“Fortunately for me,” he called after her, then cringed. Was he trying to make her think he was an idiot?
“That is fortunate!”
Apparently. And doing a grand job of it.
She made it to the gig a few feet ahead of him and climbed in before he could reach her. He suspected if he had been more than a handful of steps behind, she would have left him.
The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor) Page 9
