4 #2
Blast, she had made another mistake. She supposed most people did not proclaim their spouses to be dead with smiles on their faces. Once again forced to distract, she said, perhaps louder than warranted, “And who might you be?”
Blessedly it worked, for he said quickly, as if he were relieved to be done with the subject of her dead husband, “Mr. Oliver Beckett.”
Mr. Oliver Beckett. What a nice name. She looked from his simple, earth-toned clothing to the glasshouse. “Are you a botanist as well, Mr. Beckett?”
“A botanist?” To her surprise a bark of laughter escaped his lips. “No, I am not a botanist.” A dawning realization had his brows rising up his forehead. “Are you a botanist, Mrs. Rumford?”
“I am, indeed,” she replied, not without a small bit of pride, not even thinking to lie. Something she wondered if she should have done a moment later when his gaze narrowed.
“A botanist sneaking about Lord Durand’s glasshouse at the crack of dawn,” he mused.
Oh dear. She took a step back, nearly blanching at her carelessness.
This was not going at all how she’d hoped.
There was a reason she was typically not involved in these sorts of things.
Scrambling, trying for some sort of verbal tourniquet to stem the excess information she was spewing, she tried another tack entirely.
“I merely wished to peek inside,” she proclaimed. “I’ve heard so much about Lord Durand’s collection and would like nothing better than to see it for myself.” Which was all true without revealing too much. Thank God. But was it too little too late?
Her fingernail worried a sore patch on her wrist while Mr. Beckett considered her.
Finally, when she thought he might never speak, his voice rumbled, deep with warning, “Perhaps the next time you feel the urge to view Lord Durand’s collection, you might approach the man himself for permission.
I’m certain he would love to show it to someone as passionate as you.
Until then, Mrs. Rumford, know I shall be guarding this property and everything on it. ”
She stared at him, at a loss for how to respond. His lips—far fuller than she had thought a man’s could be—quirked up in one corner at her uncertainty, though the hard cast to his eyes gave her the distinct impression it was not in humor.
“If you would be so good as to show yourself off of the property, madam?”
Which was just pointed enough that she could not mistake his meaning. “Oh! Certainly. Goodbye, Mr. Beckett.” With that she dipped into a shallow curtsy and hurried off, both glad to leave him behind and regretful that she had to do so.
Oliver watched her hurry away. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let her go without further questioning. The tingling up his spine and along his limbs told him clearer than words that Mrs. Iris Rumford had not been completely truthful.
Yet she had been shockingly honest, hadn’t she?
His face went hot, other parts of him electrified in an uncomfortable way when he recalled her moss-green eyes roving over his body—as well as her very blunt announcement that he filled out his clothes well.
Really, what person was that forward? He might have thought it was a calculated attempt at redirecting the conversation if she hadn’t been utterly mortified afterward.
He was wholly unused to such honesty. His entire career as a Runner had been filled with people doing everything in their power to keep the truth from him, donning fake facades and false emotions to mislead him.
Yet here was this woman whose undiluted thoughts had been spoken aloud.
It was baffling—as well as strangely refreshing.
Perhaps her words on his appearance would not have affected him as deeply, however, if he had not been thinking similar thoughts regarding her.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he cast one final glance in the direction she had gone before, sighing, he stepped closer to the glasshouse wall and began inspecting the same spot she had been.
Oh yes, he had certainly been thinking along those lines, though it had not been how well she’d filled out her clothing.
She was a slender thing, after all, with nary a curve in sight.
Yet he had been utterly transfixed by her.
With her leaf-green gown, her delicate features, and the almost wild pile of blond curls atop her head, she had looked like a woodland sprite come to tempt him.
Even now, he could see her large eyes widening as she looked him over, the faint flush to her pale cheeks, her plump lips parting as if she were famished and he were a decadent cake.
He shivered at the memory, hand flattening on the cool glass.
Which made him recall her delicate hand in that very same spot.
Which suddenly made the glass seem so hot it scorched his palm.
Yanking his hand away, he shook his head to try and clear it of all thoughts of her.
But she remained fixed, like a particularly troublesome stain one could not wash out.
Damnation, what was wrong with him? Turning away from where she had stood, he renewed his inspection of the perimeter of the glasshouse.
There was one fact, and one fact only, he should focus on where she was concerned: She should not have been here sneaking about.
Should he inform Lord Durand of her presence?
The man would want to know that someone had trespassed on his property, especially someone who had a blatant interest in his plants.
The next minute, however, he almost physically recoiled from the thought.
He frowned, trying to make sense of his strong reaction against such a plan.
His mind immediately conjured an image of Durand, with his unsettling gaze and disturbing way of caressing his plants, finding and confronting Mrs. Rumford?. .? .
He quickly shook it off. Why would he be concerned over that woman?
No, his reaction must be due to his unwillingness to cause the earl undue worry.
The smoother things went around Durand Manor, after all, the better it would be for Oliver’s family.
There was no sense alarming his employer for something so minor.
Especially as nothing had actually occurred.
It was quite possible Mrs. Rumford had been telling the truth and she truly had been wishing for a simple look at the earl’s plants.
And he had given her a proper warning. Surely she would not be returning.
No, there was no reason to bring this to Durand’s notice.
Though as he turned the corner of the building, eyes scanning the surrounding landscape for anything out of place, his unease remained.