Chapter 18
FRIENDS AT LAST
A few days later…
Marigold could lie to herself and say that her bright smile was because of the morning light streaming through the breakfast room windows or the fine tea that was served to her or even the smell of coffee that she had grown accustomed to.
But she would also be aware that she was lying because the real reason for her smile was sitting right across from her, looking at her over the rim of his cup.
“You are staring again, Your Grace,” Marigold said.
“I am simply admiring the view,” Brandon said with an utterly mischievous grin.
“Are you complimenting me, Your Grace?”
“I was referring to the garden,” he said with a smirk on his lips.
Marigold served herself a cup of tea without losing her smile.
“Is that so?” she asked. “How unlucky. I am told good things happen to husbands who compliment their wives often. I am guessing you are not one of them.”
“I believe, Your Grace,” Brandon dropped his voice lower, “I have my ways of getting good things out of my wife.”
Marigold blushed at his brazen comment.
“You are impossible,” she chastised him.
“I have been told so on many occasions.”
For a while, they sat there, enjoying their breakfast, Brandon reading the paper and her reviewing the little correspondence she had.
“So, what are your plans for the day?” Brandon suddenly asked.
Marigold was taken aback. “I will be reviewing the garden. I was thinking of adding a greenhouse.”
“A greenhouse. That actually sounds lovely.”
Marigold looked at him with a little frown. He never asked about her daily schedule.
“Yes, the greenhouse.” She decided to play along and not miss the chance. “It is rather costly, though.”
“It still surprises me that you fail to understand that you have almost inexhaustible funds at your disposal.”
“First of all, Your Grace,” Marigold replied, “no funds are inexhaustible. And the second thing is, having inexhaustible funds is not a reason to waste them.”
“Yet that is the thing that my friends warned me about—not to marry someone who would squander my wealth.”
“It seems that you have avoided that calamity.”
“I may yet have to face others.” Brandon let the innuendo hang.
“And what are your plans for the day? Will you be back for dinner?” Marigold cleared her throat.
Brandon coughed and drank his coffee. Marigold frowned because he seemed almost awkward.
“I have no plans for the day, and I will stay in. Work from the study. The weather is splendid. We could have lunch outside.”
Marigold’s teacup was left mid-air as she was coming to terms with what Brandon had just told her. He never stayed the whole day, and they certainly never had lunch together.
“I will instruct the kitchen accordingly.” She couldn’t find another proper response.
Brandon seemed to enjoy her confusion, and with a smug smile, he folded the paper, left it on the table, drained his cup, and got up.
“Should you need any help or a second opinion on the greenhouse,” Brandon leaned over her chair, “feel free to knock on my door.”
Marigold felt her skin react to his low voice so close to her, and she was already planning the perfect moment to ask for his expert opinion on greenhouses when the door opened, and voices echoed through the entrance hall.
Marigold instantly recognized one warm voice, but he was not alone. There was a higher, sharper voice that Marigold could not recognize but could tell came from a girl. Owen appeared at the doorway, unrepentant and charming as always.
“Your Graces!” he said with a deep bow. “Did we just interrupt something?”
Brandon straightened his body, a little annoyed by the invasion, but his look softened when a woman emerged behind Owen. Marigold could instantly tell that this was none other than Owen’s sister. They were practically identical.
“I brought a guest,” Owen announced.
“Lily!” Brandon nodded to the newcomer. “You just saved your brother’s life.”
“That seems to be my life’s mission,” the young lady replied.
Marigold studied the young woman stepping into the room. She was perhaps a little younger than her, her hair braided elegantly on her head, with sharp, intelligent eyes that scanned the room and landed on her.
“Lily,” Brandon said and placed a hand on Marigold’s waist, “this is my wife, Marigold.”
“Your Grace.” Lily curtsied just a little. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My brother told me absolutely nothing useful, so I had to come here myself to satisfy my curiosity.”
Marigold smiled and decided that she already liked this young lady.
“Would you care for tea?”
Lily nodded, and Marigold led her to the little drawing room next door.
She was surprised to see that both men accompanied them.
Lily settled elegantly on the sofa, and Marigold sat on the other side of it.
She noticed that Brandon sat in the same chair as he did on the first time they met, and she realized that he had his usual spot in a familiar place.
“Your Grace, if I may—”
“It would please me very much if you addressed me as Marigold.”
“I will but only in private.”
“I believe we are in private right now.”
A full smile adorned Lily’s face. She turned to look at Brandon with an approving look.
“I must say, Your Grace, that the ton has opinions about you.”
Marigold served tea with complete indifference. The ton had had opinions about her ever since she was a teenager.
“I am sure they do have much to say about me.”
“Most of it is nonsense.” Lily waved her hands. “I just had to come and form my own opinion.”
“I believe life would be so much easier if everybody did the same.”
“And if they kept said opinions to themselves, I might add.” Owen grabbed two biscuits.
“You only say that because there is always a rumor circling you,” Lily hissed in an open sibling rivalry. “You see, Marigold, my brother is a bit of a rake.”
“You don’t say!” Marigold pretended to be flabbergasted.
Lily laughed at her genuine reaction.
“If you listen attentively, Lily,” Marigold whispered in a sly way, “you might hear my maids gathering outside. I believe no work will be done while Owen is in the house.”
“Must I apologize for being friendly?”
“After so many years, it still dumbfounds me the way you twist words,” Lily said with that mischievous grin.
“Brandon here,” Owen tried to deflect, “got married after we had all given up on him. Don’t you have anything more interesting to comment?”
Lily glanced at Brandon the same way she did Owen, like an annoying older brother. Brandon tried to look stern but failed, like any good brother did when facing a spoiled little sister.
“Because this was my life until now,” Lily commented. “To have one brother that flirts with anything that moves…”
“I have standards!”
“Of course, you do,” Lily said. “The problem is that your standards appear to include most of the female population of England.”
Marigold nearly choked on her tea.
“Nonsense,” Owen took the insult in stride. “It is at most a quarter.”
“Half.”
“This is not a negotiation!”
Brandon chuckled, obviously quite used to this sibling banter.
“You are encouraging her!” Owen accused.
“I learned a long time ago that opposing your sister is a complete waste of valuable energy.”
Lily turned to Marigold, placing one hand on top of hers.
“See what I had to deal with before you came? One brother that is a complete rake and another that is a certified misanthrope.”
“I am not a misanthrope!”
“I thought you said,” Owen smiled behind his cup, “that opposing Lily is a waste of valuable energy.”
Marigold regarded the scene unfolding before her, the three friends with a sibling bond, arguing like a family should, lighthearted, meaning well, showing love and affection. And then she looked down at the hand that Lily still had on hers, anchoring and pulling her into this little circle.
“Marigold, you must help me out,” Lily said, smiling.
“Are you asking me to call my husband a misanthrope and your brother a rake?” Marigold asked. “Are we discussing how the sun comes up from the east next?”
“Am I being compared to a natural phenomenon?” Owen complained.
“At least the sun is reliable,” Brandon observed.
Lily and Marigold held hands as they laughed, the men looking at them with malicious smiles on their faces.
“I regret introducing you two.” Owen shook his head.
“It might as well have been the best and cleverest thing that you have done in your whole life,” Lily replied.
She then turned to Marigold and squeezed her hands encouragingly.
“I have heard the rumors, Marigold,” she said. “Despite what people think, I don’t have many friends either. Most women are terrified of me, and the others are too busy trying to marry my brother.”
“I must assure you,” Marigold said, leaning in, “I am not terrified of you, and I have no intention of marrying your brother.”
“That is quite reassuring to hear,” Brandon gritted through tight teeth.
“I have known Brandon since I was almost eight years old,” Lily explained, “when he came back from Eton to stay with us during Christmas. I had given up hope for either of them ever getting married and settling down. I guess miracles do happen.”
“Are you calling me hopeless?” Brandon demanded.
“I was calling Marigold a miracle.”
Brandon glanced at Marigold with a soft, almost smiling look. Marigold was stunned to see him shedding his cold, dismissive expression. He didn’t say anything, but there was something in his look that conveyed he concurred with what Lily had just said.
Soon, they were drawn back into the conversation and the teasing and the banter, but that look lingered and remained with her like a little pocket of sunshine on a cloudy day.
Marigold found herself relaxing in a way she had not done in years, maybe ever. Lily was easy to talk to. She was curious but not prying, she spoke her mind without offending, and she was kind, listening to her without judgment, offering her thoughts without hesitation.
“So, you read botany books?” Lily asked.
“Yes. I have a garden here that I grow,” Marigold said without going into details about how she got into the habit of growing her own vegetables.
“You must show me,” Lily seemed genuinely interested. “I am hopeless. I have managed to kill a succulent.”
“A succulent?” Marigold said with eyes wide open. “Those are… rare and expensive.”
“Are they?”
Marigold realized that she was in the circle that measured money differently.
“Yes. Rare and very hard to kill. That was quite a feat.”
Lily chuckled in good spirits.
“It wasn’t that hard, really. I thought it looked thirsty, I overwatered it, and it died.”
“Would you like to see my garden?”
“I would love to! Get up, boys!”
“Why must we suffer too?” Owen complained while stuffing two more biscuits into his mouth.
Brandon promptly got up and kicked his friend’s feet, forcing him to stand.
“My wife wants to show us her garden,” he warned.
Marigold smiled at her husband’s eagerness and saw him take a step toward her, ready to take her arm, but Lily moved faster and linked arms with her. Marigold shook her head at how disappointed Brandon looked, but inside, she was feeling some weird kind of delight.
The happy quartet walked out into the gardens with light steps, friendly teasing, and the sun shining upon them. Marigold was never one for big gestures or expensive things. Her heart was content right in this moment, a new friend by her side and her husband escorting her proudly.
They reached the small patch that Marigold had claimed for herself. She was quite proud of her little garden. The shed was renovated and expanded, the rows were neat and evenly spaced, and the crop was bountiful.
She pulled Lily and showed her around, explaining what she had grown, even giving her fresh tender leaves to taste. No one complained about all the dirt and the meaning of all this. Lily was really excited and kept asking Owen if she could do the same in their garden, earning her a stern refusal.
All the while, Brandon was standing, watching her. And again, that smile. Warm. Genuine. It was the kind of smile that softened the severe angles of his face into something that seemed almost tender.
Marigold felt as if she were the only person there, as if Lily and Owen arguing in the back had disappeared. As if his only focus was her laughter and joy. She smiled back. Brandon realized that he had been caught red-handed.
He coughed awkwardly, looking down before straightening his jacket. He then looked out into the gardens, avoiding her look, suddenly absorbed by the nearby bushes.
But Marigold had seen it. She had seen him.