Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The girls were still chattering about the Duke of Norwich and which of them Miss Wickersham would select to be his bride when Garland stomped out and told them it was time to gather their things and go inside.
Her mind reeling, Marigold volunteered to gather flowers for the tea table.
While the others collected the ribbons and adornments and folded up the blanket, Mari made her way toward the garden, glad to have a few minutes to herself among the beautiful blooms. Mr. Walker did a wonderful job keeping the flowers, vegetables and herbs growing.
Mari retrieved a basket and clippers from the shed and set to work collecting stems to be arranged for their afternoon refreshments.
The Duke of Norwich sought a Little lady for a bride! Marigold was not impressed by titles, having one herself, at least technically. But she had begun to wonder when she might be the beneficiary of one of Miss Wickersham's matches.
When she had first arrived, in the dead of night and not even sure where she was being taken, all Mari had cared about was being far away from London and the Earl of Flemmington, her cousin's betrothed.
He had been far too attentive to Mari, to put it mildly.
Thoughts of him and his leering gaze and roving hands still made her shudder.
The idea of spending time with any man had caused her to break out into a cold sweat.
But lately, particularly with two more marriages in recent weeks, Marigold had begun to hope for a husband, and a papa, of her very own. A man specially selected by Miss Wickersham to be a loving and caring spouse to his little bride.
The prospect of being a valued member of a family was nearly more than Mari could imagine for herself. But with time and healing at Talcott House, she was beginning to believe such a fantastic match could be in her future. More than anything, she wanted to be part of a family.
But, a duke? That seemed far beyond the realm of possibilities for someone like Mari.
All she cared about was feeling safe. And loved.
If her husband was an honest merchant, she would be more than satisfied, though she doubted if the local butcher could afford the sponsorship that Miss Wickersham demanded of the Papas of her girls.
Mari did not know how much, but according to Poppy, who spent a fair amount of time in the naughty chair and had an uncanny ability to ferret out information while being punished, the men who engaged Miss Wickersham’s services in finding a bride were expected to support Talcott House ongoingly.
All of these thoughts were most distracting to Mari as she set about her task of collecting flowers.
She caught movement from the corner of her eye and glanced over to see a bunny in a cage.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Mari said, setting aside the flowers and crouching down to poke her finger through a space in the wires that created the cage. She rubbed her finger over the bunny’s back, amazed at how soft it was.
Why was the bunny in a cage? Was it someone’s pet? No, it didn’t appear to be a pet.
No doubt, Mr. Walker the head gardener had set the trap to capture the rabbits who liked to eat the plants he worked so hard to cultivate.
The bunny looked at her with its big eyes, pleading for help.
Mari was fond of Mr. Walker. He was most kind as well as being very good at his job. She did not want to do anything to make him angry.
On the other hand, the bunny was looking at her…
Before she could talk herself out of it, Mari grabbed the clippers she’d been using to cut flowers and made some snips in the wires of the cage. Then she pushed the wires apart until the bunny was able to hop away.
In an attempt to hide her crime, Mari pulled the cut wires together and in the process, she scraped her finger.
“Blast and damnation!” she hissed, shaking her hand and noting blood staining her new gloves. She tugged off the glove and examined her finger. There was a scrape on her finger and it hurt. A soft moan escaped her lips and she stared at the jagged cut on the side of her finger.
“Those are some big words for a little girl,” a firm, masculine voice said, startling her.
Mari looked up into eyes the color of the morning sky.
The man to whom they belonged stood tall and gazed down at her with a steady, but not unfriendly, gaze.
“I am sure Miss Wickersham does not condone such language from her girls.”
Marigold gaped up at the man, her throat tight and her heart pounding. Though his words were scolding, his gaze held a bit of humor as well and she found herself looking much too deeply into his eyes.
“I-I did not realize anyone else was here,” she finally said, dragging her gaze away from his. “I trust I did not offend you, sir.”
Once the shock of the man’s sudden appearance had dissipated, Mari’s composure returned and she lifted her chin in response to his censure.
The corners of his mouth turned up and a twinkle shone from his eyes. “I was not so much offended as I was surprised. Has Miss Wickersham become lax in the training of her charges?”
“No!” she gasped. “I can assure you that Miss Wickersham is most diligent in her expectations for all of us.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he replied, holding out his hand to her. “If you’ll allow me, miss,” he said. “I will see to your wound.”
Marigold gaped up at him, unsure what to do. It was highly irregular for a stranger to be in the garden of Talcott House. In fact, Miss Wickersham was quite adamant about securing the premises, as well as the virtue of her girls.
But something about this man, though clearly not a gentleman, felt reassuring and safe to her. His eyes, ringed by thick lashes, were filled with sincerity and trustworthiness. However, his face was smudged with dirt and, if she were to be truly honest, he smelled of fertilizer.
Her eyes darted past him to her friends, still chattering and taking their time following Garland’s instructions. Surely if this man meant to harm her, he would not do so with others close by.
From the interior of his filthy coat, he drew out a handkerchief which was surprisingly clean, all things considered. “May I?” he asked, nodding toward her injured finger and holding out the handkerchief.
Mari, dumbstruck, simply nodded.
His touch was gentle and though he used his handkerchief to dab at her wound, even that much contact sent a pulsing thrill through her.
“There you go,” he said, his voice like warm chocolate, “all better. You were very brave, little miss.”
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze drifting toward the now-empty cage. The stranger’s gaze followed suit and one of his brows quirked as he turned back to Mari.
“Hm,” he said. “I was certain there was a little brown bunny in there just a few moments ago.”
Mari flushed and could not hold his gaze. “Oh really?” she said.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Yes, I set the trap to catch him. I was just about to take him far into the woods and set him free. He was becoming quite a nuisance eating the plants in the garden. Mr. Walker might not be as forgiving as to use a trap.”
Mari gasped. What had she done? She thought she was helping the poor bunny but maybe she had actually put it in harm’s way.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to the bunny, would you, Miss?” His gaze bore into hers and she felt herself squirming under his scrutiny.
She licked her lips and tried to decide what to say.
“And before you answer, little miss, you should know that I do not take kindly to lies. That is even worse than assisting a bunny to escape my trap.”
“Wh-who are you?” Mari asked.
A small smile formed on his perfectly shaped mouth. “I am here this week assisting my uncle, Mr. Walker.”
“Oh,” Mari said, relaxing. “Mr. Walker does a wonderful job. I just love the gardens here at Talcott House.”
He handed her his handkerchief to hold over her wound then straightened to his full height. This time when Mari looked at him, she could see that he was tall and broad-shouldered, probably from working in gardens like his uncle.
“I am sure my uncle will be very pleased to hear that. Whom shall I tell him was singing his praises?” The corners of the man’s lips turned up ever so slightly and Mari found herself mesmerized.
Mari gaped at him for a moment and then realized he’d asked her a question. “Oh,” she said, feeling a flush on her cheeks. “I am Marigold.”
He gave her a bow. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Marigold.”
“Th-thank you,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper as she clutched the piece of linen in her hand.
“Now, there is still the matter of someone damaging my trap and allowing the bunny to escape.”
A knot formed in Mari’s tummy.
“Would you by any chance know what happened, Miss Marigold?” he asked, holding her gaze with his blue eyes. “And remember what I said earlier. I am not a fan of falsehoods."
She clutched her hands together, with his linen handkerchief around her finger.
She stared at the ground and then up at him.
“I hope you will not get into trouble with your uncle,” she said.
“If you’d like, I can explain things to him.
You see, the bunny just looked so sad in the cage and I guess I know what that can feel like… ”
“Someone has put you in a cage?” The man’s eyes flashed with anger and his voice grew loud.
“No, no. I am sorry. I did not explain that well. I have never physically been in a cage, but I have been in a situation where I felt trapped. I guess I wanted the bunny to have his freedom back.”
The man studied her for a long moment.
“I will explain the situation to my uncle,” he said. “I appreciate that you owned up to your actions. But in the future, I will not be so forgiving if you meddle with my traps or other items in the garden.”
“Oh,” Mari said. “I will be sure to stay out of the gardens. I would hate to cause you any trouble.”