Chapter Eighteen
“My lord.” One of the new hires entered the room nervously hours later, carrying a tray of biscuits.
He’d let Stevens and Sarah talk him into it, to make Frances more comfortable once she arrived.
Nathaniel wasn’t sure how having strangers running around would help, but he’d always trusted their judgment. “I have an afternoon snack for you.”
“Where is Stevens?” Nathaniel asked. For once, he was ahead on his paperwork. Becca and Lizzie would say he was avoiding Frances, but that wasn’t it. At all. He was letting her get settled. It was the courteous thing to do.
“Tea with Lady Lark,” the boy answered.
“She’s having tea alone?” Nathaniel verified with a slight twinge of guilt.
“No, with Stevens.”
“As in…he isn’t serving it?”
“No, my lord.”
“And who asked you to serve me here in my study?”
“Her ladyship thought you might be hungry, even if you were working and didn’t wish to be disturbed, but it was Stevens who gave the order, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Nathaniel went back to his papers and tried to concentrate, but it was difficult when Frances, his wife, was across the hall having a private conversation with a man who had known him since infancy.
It wasn’t that he was worried. He knew where Stevens’ loyalties lay, and it would be the height of indiscretion to share family secrets as gossip, even with the lady of the house.
Plus, Frances didn’t seem like the type to pry answers out of others instead of asking him…
but then again, Daisy had mentioned Frances being closer to the kitchen staff than anyone else in their house.
It was curiosity. Or so he told himself as he left his study and crept over to the living room, where his mother used to have everyone in for biscuits in the afternoon, before she and his father would go to their dinner parties.
Her way of spending time with them. Nathaniel hadn’t used the room since they’d all decided to make the country their family residence, leaving Sutton House as his tomb, a constant reminded of all that could have been, where he could sit with his ghosts.
But that was where the noise was coming from.
Laughter.
He didn’t think he had heard Frances’ laugh before. It was sweet and soft and reserved, but still bright and genuine. Stevens, however, used to laugh with his mother, and occasionally still did with Lizzie, Becca, and Grace, usually at Nathaniel’s expense.
“That’s such a relief,” Frances was saying.
Nathaniel knew he should announce himself, but he wanted to hear what had been bothering her. Especially when it was most likely him.
“I didn’t want to overstep, but it feels like a summer house that was closed many winters ago, and no one’s bothered to open it. There’s not a speck of dust, of course, but there isn’t really any life either.”
“That’s an accurate assessment,” Stevens agreed with her.
“Of course, it’s possible that he wishes for me to stay in the country while Parliament is in session, or—”
“Forgive me, Lady Lark, but I can say, without a doubt, that Lord Lark wishes for you to stay wherever you are happiest.”
“Of course,” Frances agreed, but Nathaniel could hear her skepticism.
Before his brain could intercept, he knocked on the doorframe before walking in. Frances jumped at the noise.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Of course not.” Frances quickly regained her composure. “They brought tea for you?”
“They do most afternoons,” he agreed, eying Stevens.
“I asked Mr. Stevens to explain the current running of the household to me, and any tasks I may help with. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. I frequently tell Stevens he has too many responsibilities.”
“If you are amenable, my lord, we were discussing some ideas to—”
“I am sure whatever you decide will be fine.”
Frances hesitated, and he was worried she would press, before she said, “I helped my father with the accounts, so I would be happy to—”
“I can handle them.” Nathaniel didn’t mean to get defensive, but that was how it came out.
“Of course.”
An awkward silence followed, before Stevens said, “If there isn’t anything else, my lady, I can start on some of those ideas.”
“No, yes, thank you so much for your time.”
“It was my pleasure.” Stevens nodded in deference to her, then turned to Nathaniel with a quick “your Lordship” before leaving the two of them alone.
“Are you done with your paperwork?” Frances asked as he bit into a biscuit, mostly to look busy, but he regretted it instantly when he had to wait to chew it before responding. Biscuits were rather dry when not paired with tea.
“Mostly. There’s always more to do, but if you had something in mind…”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to bother you.”
“I could use a break,” he assured her, hating the way she’d deflated, as if simply asking if he was busy was overstepping.
But he’d noticed the way she’d been eying the yard.
“The weather seems to be improving. Perhaps I could show you the grounds? It’s a rather small garden patch, and it will still be muddy, but—”
“I would love to,” she cut him off with an embarrassed, self-conscious smile that told him she didn’t trust him yet. “If you’re certain you’re not busy.”
She did not sound certain. At all.
“It would be my pleasure,” he assured her.
Nathaniel was clearly biased by his country estate and the Williams’ garden, because Sutton House had beautiful grounds.
There were rows of what would soon be roses and gardenias, violets and hyacinths.
Frances was in heaven, touching petals and breathing in scents, nearly forgetting her new husband entirely.
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with many flowers, not even the ones here.”
“I could write books about them, yet there is still so much to learn.” Frances didn’t even look up from the daffodil she was admiring.
“You don’t have to wait with me,” she told him, knowing it was probably gauche of her to even care, but she couldn’t hide her excitement.
She could spend days in the gardens. Perhaps the rest of her life.
“I don’t mind.” Nathaniel let out a contented sigh, like he was possibly enjoying the fresh air as well, despite the thick coats he insisted they wear. “I rarely come out here.”
“I would be out here all the time if—”
If I had a garden like this. But now she did. This very garden was hers. She could enjoy it to her heart’s content.
“I’ll see about adding a bench.”
“Don’t trouble yourself over me,” she said quickly.
“It’s no trouble.”
“Thank you for showing me. It’s wonderful.”
“There are vegetables and herbs, around the side,” he mentioned. “Are you still interested in them as well?”
“No, of course not, I…”
Flowers were one thing, but proper ladies didn’t admire kitchen gardens.
“Forgive me, I assumed you moved on from vegetables when you mastered flowers, but why give up on something you love just because you love something else more?”
“I don’t love it,” Frances argued.
“If I must always be honest with you, it is only fair you pay me the same courtesy.”
He had a teasing tone, but while she never intended to outright lie to him—he deserved her honesty—she couldn’t promise to tell him everything. Which might be a problem, because he looked like he truly wanted to know about her, and the things that brought her joy.
“Then you’re right, and I would love to explore vegetable patches and herb gardens.”
“I’ll accompany you, if that’s agreeable. My biscuit was quite dry, and we grow the juiciest tomatoes,” he joked.
Her first instinct was to remind him it was his garden and he could do as he pleased, or that she was perfectly fine on her own.
Instead, she said, “That would be lovely, thank you,” and made a mental note to find a moist alternative to biscuits.
Or perhaps something to pair them with if he didn’t have time for tea?
If Frances had learnt one thing from living with her parents, it was to be useful.
Nathaniel had eaten a dozen small tomatoes, half a carrot, some snap peas, and a cucumber by the time Frances looked up and realized the sun was setting.
“My goodness, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I’ve kept you what must be hours, and I’ve been terrible company.”
She looked mortified, which was adorable, but also brought a pang to his chest. It wasn’t like he could tell her he’d enjoyed watching her marvel at the tiniest seedlings and admire something he’d always taken for granted.
“I usually like it best when people ignore me and get lost in their own worlds,” he teased, eliciting a smile in return.
And it was the truth; he’d rather be left alone by most people.
But he’d enjoyed seeing how happy and excited she got over leaves, humidity, and dirt.
He couldn’t even remember the last time something had excited him as much.
Perhaps drawing plans back in university?
As it were, he wouldn’t have minded if she’d rattled on about everything she was discovering out loud instead of keeping it all inside.
Frances sighed and took another look around before locking eyes with him and saying, with all the sincerity in the world, “I think I’ll be happy here. Thank you, my—Nathaniel.”
Her words stirred something in his chest that he’d pushed out long ago. Not love, because he hardly knew the woman in front of him, and she wasn’t Jo, but feelings, which he was usually very careful to only have for his siblings and grandparents.
Those feelings were shocking enough, but the slip that led to her calling him hers nearly destroyed him.
“Happy to hear it.” He tipped his head to her then retreated, not the least bit graceful, painfully aware that he was fleeing.