Chapter 11
Throughout the rest of the day, Ethan’s mind kept returning to Miss Pembroke.
He tossed and turned all night, uneasy with how he’d reacted to her.
Yes, she had acted without thinking, but he knew she had good intentions.
Ethan was just so on edge, impatient to see changes around the estate, that when she’d shown a level of thoughtlessness once again, he momentarily lost grip of his control.
The last thing he’d expected was for Alice to show up in the early morning as he worked off frustration in the garden. Ethan could begrudgingly admit to himself that her willingness to get down in the dirt herself had surprised him, and he admired her determination.
He was a bit concerned—certain Alice’s hands would later protest her handling of the shovel. An unpracticed grip caused her hands to slide along the handle, making her lifting utterly inefficient and abrasive. He was sure she would develop some blisters from the constant friction.
Shaking his head to clear the mental fog of his fatigue, Ethan tried to refocus on the pages before him.
Johanssen was set to begin soon, and he needed to inventory repairs needed for the new steward’s cottage on the edge of the estate.
Bending his head and dipping the quill, Ethan returned to his document.
It was less than ten minutes later when he found his mind wandering again, thinking about the moment he corrected Miss Pembroke’s form.
She’d felt so small as he reached around her, his arms easily engulfing her, able to protect her should she need it.
His hands had only covered hers for an instant, but it was enough to notice the softness of her skin.
His fingers tingled again just thinking of it.
And her hair had been right under his nose—he’d had to restrain himself from breathing deeply, inhaling the scent of her floral soap.
Leaning back in his chair, Ethan let out a groan and rubbed his eyes—lord but he was tired—when he was startled by an inquiry coming from the doorway.
“I’m sorry . . . is this a bad time?”
Bolting upright to a correct posture, he discovered the very woman he was trying valiantly not to think of before him. Clutching a sheaf of papers to her chest, Alice chewed at her bottom lip, appearing unsure if she should interrupt him.
“Not at all,” he replied, motioning her in and wishing his rapid pulse to quiet. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Pulling a chair up to the desk she laid down her papers.
Still worrying that bottom lip, his eyes were trained on her mouth.
Though her lips began to move, he did not comprehend the words she was saying, focused instead on the rose tint that blossomed there after scrapping her teeth over the delicate, plump skin.
“Mr. Beaumont?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, snapping his head up with a shake. “I’m afraid my mind was wandering. I tend to lose focus when I don’t sleep well.”
“And that’s my fault, I’m afraid.” She offered a small, sad smile.
“No, mine. I was bothered by how badly I’d treated you. But we already decided to leave the past where it belongs.” He cleared his throat, suddenly emotional at the thought of causing her upset. “What can I help you with?”
“Well—” Alice took in a deep breath, shoulders lifting with the effort. “I’d like to make some changes to the garden design.”
Ethan’s mind began racing with all the potential ripple effects should large changes to plans be needed, affecting timetables for completion.
Some of his alarm must have come across in his expression, as Miss Pembroke quickly interjected, “I’m not proposing changes to the layout, simply what plants we are including and where. ”
Ethan forcibly exhaled in relief. This he could deal with. God help the woman if she’d wanted to dig new pathways, though he strongly suspected he might allow her to do anything she liked. Letting himself smile in his newfound ease, he extended his hand. “Let me see what you’ve dreamed up.”
Ethan watched in amazement as Alice’s eyes lit up before him, the deep brown pools surrounding her irises suddenly shining like mahogany polished to a reflective gleam.
Had so few people ever given her the space to let her creativity flourish?
She was clearly enjoying this project, he could begrudgingly admit Priscilla had been onto something with putting her cousin in charge, but she still seemed hesitant.
Maybe he needed to be more forthright in sharing his admiration for her design.
Grabbing the papers to hand to Ethan, he noticed her wince slightly as she passed the designs into his hand.
“What’s wrong?” Concern eked out of him before having a chance to temper the force of his delivery and she slightly flinched at the assertiveness of his question.
“I’m fine,” Alice offered meekly, quickly tucking her hands into her lap.
“No, you’re not. I saw your face twist in pain.”
“My hands are just a bit sore from this morning. Nothing I can’t handle.” Her rosebud lips were now pursed together, his eyes drawn to them again. He didn’t enjoy making her apprehensive, but the effect on her person was quite lovely to look at.
“May I see them?” he asked gently, trying to put her back at ease.
Lifting her hands automatically in compliance to his question, she faltered halfway—hesitating with her hands hovering over the edge of the desk, fingers tensed.
Lifting her eyes, Alice searched his own before slowly extending her arms the rest of the way, rotating her hands to reveal her palms. Gently placing the backs of her hands within his own, he understood she was offering a part of herself to him in this moment, letting herself be vulnerable, and he would not abuse her trust.
Looking down, Ethan saw angry red lines crossing her palms where they had slipped across the handle of the shovel in the cold.
Patches of skin had broken open revealing raw wounds.
He ever so gently extended her fingers from their curled, protective position to get a fuller view and saw an angry blister at the base of her thumb, in the tender place where it met the rest of her palm.
She winced and twitched slightly, as if her instinct was to move her hand away.
But when he placed slight pressure on the pad of her thumb, she stilled and allowed him to remain holding her hands while he continued examining for further injury.
“Why didn’t you say anything this morning?” he prodded softly. “You didn’t have anything to prove to me.”
“Yes, I did.” Her response was just as quiet, like she was scared that to speak louder would somehow shatter the moment between them. “But more importantly, I had something to prove to myself.”
That Ethan understood completely, and he admired her for it. There was definitely more to Miss Pembroke than he had given her credit for, he only had to look closer and uncover that side of her.
“These need to be wrapped, may I?” Ethan had already set her hands down on the desk and was reaching for a drawer when she nodded her acceptance. He pulled out a tin of salve and strips of soft cotton fabric and her eyes widened with curiosity.
“Are you always so prepared?” she asked.
“These types of injuries are common when doing manual labor, I like to keep some items on hand for circumstances such as these.”
Ethan opened the tin before ever so carefully picking up her delicate right hand and gently rubbing a bit of the salve into her palm.
Alice was completely flustered as Ethan soothed the soft balm into her tender, ripped up skin.
His touch was so light that it almost tickled, but she bit her lip to keep from laughing as she knew he was trying to be gentle and not hurt her.
The move had the unfortunate side effect of bringing his eyes to her lips again, and she could feel heat rising in her chest at the feel of his eyes on her.
Ethan cleared his throat and ripped his eyes away, but not before a shiver made its way across her shoulders.
He set her hand down before picking up the other and repeated his ministrations.
The salve felt just as good, soothing the burning sensation where the shovel’s handle had dragged across her skin.
A light herbaceous scent released as he rubbed in the concoction, the warmth of his touch amplifying the fragrant notes of rosemary, mint, and chamomile.
Ethan was taking such care with her—it was so unexpected that as he began wrapping her hands, Alice found tears were suddenly welling in the corners of her eyes. Quickly turning away so he wouldn’t witness her weakness, seeing the way his kindness affected her, she took in a deep breath.
“Thank you, I appreciate you tending to my hands,” Alice said, pulling back from his light hold and placing her hands back in her lap.
It felt as if a fog lifted at the loss of his touch and reality returned to her.
“I’ll be sure to have gloves next time,” she added, her tone returning to a slightly cooler delivery—it would be best to remember why she was here and return to business.
Ethan’s brow pulled together, confused by her sudden change in demeanor, but he didn’t comment on it. “So you plan to continue digging the plot in the garden?”
“I’d like to. I think it’s good for me to be involved in every aspect of the project, not just the easy ones.”
“I wouldn’t say that coming up with the entire design is easy,” he said with a large smile. And for the first time, she felt that he actually appreciated her efforts. But she couldn’t soften—she had to remember why she was here.
Gathering the plans she’d walked in with, Mr. Beaumont looked up at her again, his slightly detached business expression back on his handsome face. Good, they both needed to remember their places.
“Why don’t you tell me about the changes you are hoping to make?”
“They are twofold . . . and the first might actually require a bit more work than I indicated a moment ago.” She glanced from below her lashes to assess how perturbed he might be at the admission she was making larger changes to his plans than first intimated.
He grimaced but motioned for her to proceed.
“I was reflecting on the practical uses of a garden and how this one might provide more than just the peace of a beautiful surrounding. I’d also like to expand the kitchen garden so that everyone who works on the estate might benefit from the food grown there.”
Mr. Beaumont’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he didn’t seem displeased, so Alice rushed to continue explaining her rationale.
“After last night, I was thinking about the long hours that many of the workers put in on the estate before they are able to return home. Especially when they are held after hours,” she added sheepishly.
“It doesn’t leave much time for cultivating their own produce.
But the estate could provide additional yields of fruits and vegetables for them to share with their families, thus reducing their expenses. ”
Alice risked glancing up from where she had been studiously examining the wood grain of the desk, scared of Mr. Beaumont’s reaction.
Much to her surprise, she was met with a smile that lit up the man’s entire being.
Not only were there creases along his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes from how wide his smile stretched, but he was even leaning forward, eager to hear what she had to say next.
“I think that’s a marvelous idea, and one both West and Priscilla will heartily approve of. We can expand the plot to the east, away from the house.”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I was thinking—so it won’t interrupt the visual lines of the garden.” Alice’s own smile brightened her face.
“Thank you for being willing to make the expansion. Now, the second change is regarding the types of flowers to include in the border patches. I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading on the meaning of different plants and flowers, and I think this garden should say something . . .”