Candice Hern (39 page)
Authors: Lady Be Bad
"Oh, I have never actually seen one before," she said, "not really, anyway. But I have seen many pictures of them. I love flowers, you see and have— had—many books on the subject. Some with lovely colored prints of various blossoms. Violets have always been my favorites, the simple
viola odorata
most of all. When I saw this patch of them," she said, gesturing to the clump of purple blossoms at the edge of the path, "I could not resist examining them up close. You must have cultivated them especially to bloom so long into summer, did you not? I thought to sketch one, you see. Oh, and I had also considered drawing this one, too," she added, bending to admire the fringed gentian. "Very unusual. The dark blue coloring and the fringed edges are a combination I have never before seen. Are they a special hybrid?"
Stephen's breath was almost knocked out of him as he listened to this extraordinary speech. Here was a very pretty young woman, with dark blond curls spilling out of her bonnet and huge gray eyes peering at him guilelessly, who knew about rare flowers and special hybrids—his favorite subjects—and wasn't fawning all over him. And she actually had no idea who he was.
It was delicious.
It was too perfect.
He could not keep from smiling.
"Yes," he said at last. "How clever of you to notice. They are indeed a special hybrid. I developed the strain myself."
"How wonderful," she exclaimed. "You must be very proud. Of everything here at Chissingworth."
"I am indeed," he said, strangely affected by her genuine interest and admiration for the one thing in his life of which he was truly proud. "You must feel free to sketch or paint all you want while at Chissingworth. I promise you will not be so rudely accosted again."
She smiled at him, and he almost forgot to breathe. "Thank you," she said. "I imagine there are many other rare specimens besides
viola odorata
. It would be lovely to sketch them."
"I would be pleased to show you the gardens myself, and point out the most unusual specimens and such." He could have bitten his tongue off the moment the words were spoken. What on earth had made him say such a thing? He was trying to hide from his mother's guests. He had no business encouraging this young woman, this very pretty young woman, to fraternize with him. What if she discovered his true identity?"
"How kind of you," she said, flashing a brilliant smile. "I would enjoy that. What better tour guide could I possibly ask for than Chissingworth's gardener? By the way, I am Miss Catherine Forsythe."
Good Lord. What was he to do now? Introduce himself as the owner of Chissingworth, not merely the gardener? How would she treat him, then? Her open, artless conversation would change to egregious fawning and preening, and that inevitable predatory glint would brighten her eyes. He did not believe he could bear it.
And so, how should he introduce himself? Give his name as Stephen Archibald Frederick Charles Godfrey Manwaring? Would she recognize that moniker as belonging to the Duke of Carlisle?
Perhaps not. Perhaps if he just shortened it, did not give her all the important bits, he might get away with it. "I am Stephen Archibald," he blurted, without further thought.
"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Archibald."
By God, it had worked. She believed it. Miss Forsythe truly believed him to be Mr. Archibald, the gardener at Chissingworth. He bit back a grin. It was almost too perfect.
"And I must tell you how much I have enjoyed your gardens," she continued. "I have only just arrived, though, and look forward to seeing the rest of the grounds during my stay."
"Shall we meet again tomorrow morning, then?" In for a penny, in for a pound. "I could show you the botanical gardens where the more exotic plants are kept." It was the least frequented area of the estate and they were unlikely to run into any other wandering guests.
"That would be lovely."
"The same time tomorrow morning, then? But some other place, please. I would not have you reminded of our ignominious introduction here. Through those hedges and a bit beyond is the Chinese garden. There is a small pavilion in the center. I could meet you there."
"Assuming the duchess or my aunt have no other plans for me," she said, "I shall be there. Thank you so very much, Mr. Archibald. I look forward to it."
With a wave and a smile, she was off, disappearing through the entrance to the rose garden. Stephen watched her go and gave a wistful sigh.
And wondered what on earth he had got himself into.
* * *
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Candice Hern is the award-winning, bestselling author of historical romance novels set during the English Regency, a period she knows well through years of collecting antiques and fashion prints of the period. She travels to England regularly, always in search of more historical and local color to bring her stories and characters to life.
Her books have won praise for the "intelligence and elegant romantic sensibility" (
Romantic Times
) as well as "delicious wit and luscious sensuality (
Booklist
).
Candice's award-winning website (
www.candicehern.com
) is often cited for its Regency World pages, where readers interested in the era will find an illustrated glossary, a detailed timeline, illustrated digests of Regency people and places, articles on Regency fashion, research links, and much more. It is the only author website listed among the online resources for the Jane Austen Centre in England.
Visit
www.candicehern.com
for more information on all Candice's books, including excerpts and a look "behind the scenes" of each novel.