Chapter 19
Estelle
Lady Camden informed me that she was taking Augusta to town to be fitted for a few gowns and that my presence would not be required.
I loved my time with Augusta, but besides my staff, I had lived on my own for many years and was used to time by myself.
A few extra hours of solitude would do me good.
First, I peeked in on Nora and found her quite in her element, repairing some loose lace on the sleeve of my gown and surrounded by gossiping servants in the kitchen.
Cook obligingly offered me a biscuit, which I took with me to the library.
After a selecting a book that caught my eye, I strode outside to the garden where I could enjoy the roses in bloom.
I had just settled onto a bench when a man in work clothes stepped into view.
With shears in hand, he began to trim the decorative bushes on the far side of the garden.
I noticed the scar on his face first. It was pink-toned and hard to miss.
He was tall with blonde hair. And he looked to be about the right age.
I forced myself to look away. It was not Mr. Long.
Nora was right. I had to stop thinking every person was him.
But would it hurt to ask him if he’d been in London nearly seven months ago?
Would it hurt to get a better look at him?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I set my book aside and strode toward the topiaries that lined the back of the garden, the smell of roses and a soft perfume in the air.
When I reached his side, he turned to me and smiled.
He was missing several teeth. Could it be the product of a sore beating?
I swallowed. This could very well be him.
For the first time in all the times I had thought someone was Mr. Long, a strange thought made me hesitate. Did I want it to be him?
I swept the foolish thought aside. “Excuse me. Are you the gardener here? Of course you are. What I mean is, have you always been the gardener here? Have you ever been to London?”
The gardener took a slow step backward and cleared his throat. “I, uh, help my father here. Neither of us have been to London.”
Good heavens, I was making him nervous. “Not to worry,” I said.
“I was just curious. I will let you get back to your work.” Stepping away, my hands shook when I clasped them together.
I was torn between feeling relieved and disappointed.
Making my way back to the bench, I discovered it was no longer empty.
Lord Camden sat before me, looking impossibly handsome.
His hair ruffled under the slight breeze, and he leaned casually against one arm in a laissez-faire manner.
And he was reading my book. I tried to adopt an annoyed expression, but I was secretly thrilled that he had found me.
I shouldn’t want to speak with him after his relentless teasing the night before, but I could not help it.
When I reached him, I set my hand on one hip in a show of feigned frustration.
But he did not so much as look up at me. He turned a page and said, “Please tell me you haven’t been harassing my gardener. I’m partial to his work.”
“Nonsense. I was simply . . . I was just . . .” There was no easy way to explain.
Sighing, I tacked on to his own words. “He does do good work. The gardens are lovely.” I wanted to demand my book back, but I risked sounding childish.
I had been doing enough of that lately with my bad temper.
But neither did I want to come across too eager to speak to him.
Lord Camden motioned to the seat next to him. “Please, sit for a moment.”
“Really?” Had he realized that I had already been sitting in his exact spot?
“Really.” Drat that amiable smile for making me forget all my annoyance.
I took the seat beside him, a thread of anticipation stitching through my middle—and oddly enough, no apprehension.
He lowered the book in his lap. “Do you have a favorite flower?”
"I . . .uh, that is an intimate question."
"Is it?" His eyes sparkled.
Was I making too much of it? What did he plan to do with such information? I suddenly remembered that Augusta was in town, and that we were quite alone—besides the gardener, of course. It took me a moment longer than it should have to answer his simple question. “I’m partial to roses.”
“Oh? I would have thought lilacs.”
My brow rose. “Lilacs?”
A soft smile played on his lips. “Is that not the scent you wear?”
I pinched the skin on my fingers to keep from showing my surprise.
“Yes, it is.” I thought back to the times we had been in close proximity and wondered when he had discovered it.
“Lilacs are my favorite scent, but roses have a different significance. Father always gifted Mother a large bouquet of them for her birthday. I suppose my memories have added sentiment to them. Yours are particularly beautiful.”
Lord Camden took in the different colored roses spread throughout the garden. “You must miss your parents.”
“I do.” I had not meant to speak of them, but it would seem strange to refuse to do so now. I would be careful not to mention anything too revealing.
“I am sorry you have had to suffer from so much loss.”
I gave an awkward shrug. “I was never particularly close to my father, but I still miss the constancy of his presence. My mother was heavily involved in my studies, and I still hear her voice urging me to do better.”
“Sometimes, I imagine my father telling me to do better as well. They must care a great deal about us if they nag all the way from heaven.”
“I suppose so.”
“When you interviewed for the governess position, you mentioned you have a brother.”
“I am surprised you remembered. Yes, I have a brother.” My voice trailed off. I did not think Lord Camden would hunt down my only sibling and learn of my situation, but the fewer people who knew about me, the better off my reputation would be later.
“I am glad of it.” Lord Camden must have sensed the reluctance in my voice and did not pursue it further.
He turned the page in my book and perused it.
“I must say, this is interesting reading material. History of Animals by Noah Webster,” he said, reading the title.
“I didn’t even know we owned this book. It was probably Athena’s. ”
I frowned. “Athena?”
“Has Augusta never spoken of her?”
“No.”
“I suppose she wouldn’t. Augusta was but six years old when Athena died and likely possesses only a handful of memories. It’s hard to believe it has been eleven years. Athena was barely fifteen.”
My heart ached for their loss. “I’m so sorry.”
“Athena loved animals and little Augusta wanted to be just like her,” Atlas chuckled, shaking his head. “I daresay, Augusta is far more passionate than Athena ever was. Athena would be glad the book was getting good use.”
“I hope so as well,” I said. “The text might be difficult for Augusta at first, but I thought the subject might spark her interest.”
He slowly closed the book and handed it to me, a smile slipping over his features.
“I guessed as much. I can’t thank you enough for helping her.
I had always thought she had chosen not to learn on purpose—as a form of defiance against Mother’s controlling nature—and not because she struggled to learn.
That day in the library changed my view.
” He pointed at my book. “I hope this can help her.”
I smiled. “It is worth trying.”
He nodded in agreement. “Your perseverance is admirable. Most people who have an afternoon off would not spend more time working.”
I set the book slowly on my lap, pleased by his unexpected gratitude. “Believe it or not, this is the sort of task that makes me happy.”
“I’m glad. What other sorts of activities do you enjoy?”
I had to check to see if he was teasing me again or if he was in earnest. He seemed to truly want to know. “I read a great deal—mostly the classics—and enjoy practicing my music. Or, I used to.”
“I have never heard you play an instrument before. Our pianoforte is available to you, should you desire to use it.”
“Thank you, but I am committed to use my time to profit Augusta.”
His brows rose. “I must stop teasing you about your work ethics. Besides, Augusta might benefit from your interests. Do you enjoy the theater? Picnics? Riding horses?”
“There was not a good theater house near us, but we did have a traveling troupe perform for us a time or two. If you recall, I did not travel much until I became a governess. I do enjoy picnics, but it has been since my mother was alive that I have been on one. As for horses—well, if you must know—they . . . they intimidate me. I prefer them in front of my carriage. Not everyone can be an animal whisperer like your sister.”
“Do these horses intimidate you the same way water does?”
“I . . . suppose.”
“And might I guess that it stems from your lack of experience with them?”
I squirmed in my seat. “In my defense, I was very busy mastering the pastimes and studies my mother deemed proper for a young lady. Anything not on her list was considered a frivolous pursuit.”
He chuckled, almost to himself. “Miss Lewis, I do believe you have issued me a challenge.”
I frowned, repeating everything I had said in my head. “I don’t believe I have.”
“And yet, you implied it.”
I stared at the gardens and then back at him. “What exactly did I imply?”
“That you need more diversion in your life.”
My hand flew to my chest. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
I had been driven almost obsessively to become an accomplished young woman as Mother would want me to be.
I hadn’t spent much time seeking pleasure.
It sounded silly . . . pointless even. “You may retract your challenge. Companions are not meant to have fun. Whatever brings Augusta joy is good enough for me.”