Chapter Nineteen
When Cassandra received an invitation to Hyacinth’s country estate for a week, she could hardly refuse.
While she enjoyed her newfound bliss with Reuben, she had insisted she take some time to visit with her friends and enjoy their company.
Reuben had agreed wholeheartedly and promised to come and retrieve her personally the following week.
Cassandra arrived at Lady Corby’s country home prepared to face a barrage of inquiries. The housekeeper escorted her to the garden, where Hyacinth, Eleanor, and Victoria were taking a lovely afternoon tea. They stood upon her arrival, welcoming her with warmth and grace.
“Thank you for the invitation, Hyacinth.” Cassandra took the open seat near the blooming wall of climbing roses.
“How was your journey?” she asked as she poured some tea for her guests.
“Uneventful.” Cassandra chuckled. “But I much prefer that to the other possibilities.”
“Like a highwayman!” Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“Eleanor, you have been reading those confounded Gothic novels again.” Victoria shook her head ruefully. “Forgive her. She takes the opportunity to romanticize everything now.”
“Speaking of romance,” Hyacinth murmured, handing Cassandra her tea. “How fares your new husband?”
Cassandra’s face warmed at the mention of Reuben. “He is well.”
“Marriage suits you,” Hyacinth said with confidence. “You are positively aglow.”
“This marriage suits me perfectly well,” Cassandra clarified. “I admit, I had my reservations about entering into another marriage, especially in our situation, but I confess it has been transformative and—delightful.”
The three ladies nodded in agreement just as the housekeeper arrived with a tray laden with a veritable assortment of culinary delights. Victoria took her time selecting one of each, as she explained she had given the recipes to the cook and wished to see how they tasted.
A lovely afternoon tea in the garden with close friends was exactly what Cassandra needed to bolster her spirits and rejuvenate her soul. They supported her quiet extraction from society and lauded her courage in following her heart against all odds.
Cassandra joined the other ladies on a walk through the magnificent gardens on the dowager viscountess’s country estate.
She marveled at the variety of flora and fauna.
The late-summer flowers were just beginning to bloom, but already, her gardens boasted a vibrant array of variegated vegetation in a kaleidoscope of colors.
She paused to admire a deep-magenta peony.
“Hyacinth, these flowers are by far the loveliest I have ever seen.” Cassandra complimented her with sincerity and a touch of jealousy. “How on earth do you maintain such an immaculate garden?”
Hyacinth paused beside her, her face shaded beneath a wide-brimmed hat, but Cassandra saw the pink in her cheeks. “I have spent many days cultivating the garden, selecting the different breeds and variations. This year has been the most rewarding after all my time and effort.”
“Your son gifted you this place as a dowager estate?” Cassandra glanced back at the house.
“Yes, this was my husband’s favorite place, and my son knew how much I treasure the memories here.” She sighed. “He much prefers his larger country estate in Dorset.”
“You maintain this yourself?” Cassandra asked in awe.
“I cannot take all the credit.” She brushed her fingertips over the peony blossom. “I have several servants who help me tend it.”
“I would think it would take an army of servants to do so.” Cassandra allowed her gaze to roam over the expansive garden.
In the distance, a figure rose up from a gnarled bed of thorns and deep-green foliage. Judging by the width of the shoulders and the height, it was a man. Cassandra squinted to get a better look at him, but he remained hidden in shadow, watching them from a distance.
“Who is that?” Cassandra asked, turning to Hyacinth.
Her friend turned a lovely shade of magenta to match the peonies. “I—well, that is the head gardener.” Hyacinth cleared her throat. “Shall we return to the house? I have a lovely evening planned.”
Hyacinth was embarrassed. Well, now, this was an interesting situation, indeed.
Cassandra glanced back at the gardener, whose form slowly grew as he approached them.
Beside her, Hyacinth danced with impatience, fiddling with the hem of her gloves.
She turned to Eleanor and Victoria in an attempt to draw them into conversation, but they were as interested in this new development as Cassandra was.
It became increasingly apparent that Hyacinth did not wish to wait for the gardener to join them.
When he stepped into the sunlight, Cassandra stifled a gasp.
She had assumed he was an older man with experience in horticulture.
But he was gorgeous and young. Raven hair, a tad longer than fashionable, lent a striking mysterious quality.
Soulful eyes the color of well-aged whisky.
Strong, broad shoulders pulled the white linen shirt tight against his chest, tucked beneath suspenders.
The man was devastatingly handsome even with the furrowed scowl on his face.
“Might I have a word, my lady?” he asked Hyacinth directly, completely ignoring the three women in stunned silence gaping at him.
“Can it not wait?” Hyacinth asked, her tone terse and irritated.
Cassandra blinked in surprise. She had never heard Hyacinth use such a tone with anyone, regardless of their social standing.
“No, it cannot.” His jaw tensed, making the muscle twitch.
Cassandra took a tentative step back, feeling as though this conversation would be better suited without their presence. “Come along, ladies. We shall leave Hyacinth to her garden and seek out some shade beneath the terrace.”
Gently nudging Eleanor and Victoria, Cassandra directed the other ladies to abandon the confrontational scene.
Even though she longed to know the details of what transpired between Hyacinth and the strapping young gardener, Cassandra understood the often-strange dynamics between mistress and servant.
A glance over her shoulder showed both the gardener and Hyacinth locked in an animated argument. Both parties seemed irritated by the other. A battle of the wills. How interesting.
“Is it always this tense between the two of them?” Cassandra asked Eleanor and Victoria.
“Oh, yes.” Eleanor nodded vehemently. “Her son hired him last summer as the head gardener to help tend the gardens and ensure it survived over winter. But it seemed they had a disagreement of sorts.”
“Has she discussed it with either of you?” Cassandra watched as the gardener ran his hand through his hair in growing agitation.
“No,” Victoria replied. “In fact, she quickly changes the subject the moment he appears or is mentioned in conversation.”
“Indeed.” Cassandra marked the moment Hyacinth spun away from the gardener.
A flicker of something crossed his face. Heat. Desire. In a shift of light, whatever it was vanished, leaving open distaste painted on his expression. She stifled a gasp and held her tongue.
The Dowager Viscountess Corby had an admirer, but Hyacinth did not seem to notice or care as he watched from a distance tangled in roses and gnarled vines. What a delightful turn of events.