Page 27 of His Abandoned Duchess

Such a close-fisted man with a tight grip on his purse strings is certain to find my spending too lavish. But I, of course, have every reason to be doing as such. Richard will see soon enough how fruitless an endeavor managing me truly is.

Amelia stood back with her small smile still in place, the truth of its origins tucked away for only her, and watched the horticulturists lay out the new greenery that would take up a good majority of the enhanced conservatory.

The modifications and improvements within doors had so beautifully advanced the estate, and any Duke or Duchess could not afford to let such a lovely space go to waste. A conservatory, of course, must be a prized locale within Heartwick. As a “properlady” Amelia knew that she had no choice but to improve the estate as such.

She chuckled to herself, feeling the inklings of her plot coming together like the halves of a seam.

“I have not seen you so lively since your husband has arrived. Though,” Jane patted her arm, “I remember how much you love them.”

“I do.” There was no lie needed there. Amelia did enjoy the plants so very much.

Furthermore, the growing variety would undoubtedly provide the best in dressing table options that could be carried through Heartwick with ease. And above the joy of riling her husband so, Amelia was forced to admit to herself that the conservatory indeed looked lovely with the numerous explosions of color scattered about the space now.

“I had nearly forgotten these past few days, but yes. I adore the plants to no end. They will look magnificent in the estate.”

Jane smiled back, bowing and dismissing herself to assist with readying some tea for a repast later on in the evening.

Taking in the space again, Amelia noted her choices.

There were peonies and birds of paradise offering touches of orange and pink. Hydrangeas offered purples, and thebreathtaking tiger lilies were a patterned array of yellow and orange and brown. Still, the piece that Amelia loved most of all—aside, of course, from the massive green leaves that created parasol-like canopies all around the room—was the dahlias.

She had been told by the botanists that these exquisite flowers had been the long work of both French and German experiments, and the whole of England was becoming obsessed with the delightful colors and varieties. Amelia could see why, and she truly jumped at the chance to bring some of them into her own home.

“They are increasingly being deemed the most fashionable flower in the country, Your Grace. You have made a superb selection.”

Amelia smiled broadly as the man, a Mr. Peabody, directed the servants along with his few assistants through the room, having them place the pots and collections in just the suitable locations to suit the needs of each plant. The conditions for growing were explained thoroughly to the estate’s gardeners, and Amelia was quite sure that this would quickly become a new favorite room of the home.

“I thank you, Mr. Peabody. I adore them. I am sure that the Duke will be exceedingly pleased with your fine work.”

He ducked his head, a sweet bow from the older gentleman that only made her the slightest bit concerned that he would not be able to straighten again.

“It is my pleasure, Your Grace.”

The room began to empty of those working to place the plants and new furnishings, and Amelia was left in the room alone to gaze upon the evidence of her grand scheme. If she were being quite honest with herself, however, Amelia would have had to admit that the exotics were a gift to herself as well.

She adored the way nature consistently exceeded expectations and carried on in the face of progress and development. Growing things had always been a fascination of Amelia’s, and she walked over to the new array of dahlia basking in the sun, running her fingertips gently across the tiny petals.

When the care for them had been delivered to the staff, Amelia had been sure to listen in as well. It would be no surprise to the servants of the house that Amelia intended to tend to the plants herself. She’d once had to argue the fact, but much of the household had seen how stalwart she could be when she set her mind to something.

Richard will soon see it as well.

The sound of the front door closing firmly and the scuttling about of the household staff brought Amelia’s attention away from the gorgeous blooms. Her husband was home, and when he asked for her whereabouts and discovered her here, Amelia knew that a semblance of a warm countenance would quickly leave him.

“Amelia,” his voice called out, “what on earth are you doing in the conservatory? And why have I spotted a slew of gardeners leaving the estate?”

The sharp clack of Richard’s boots hitting the floor echoed through the halls until Amelia, at last, saw him enter the conservatory through the slight door on the wall that the glass structure shared with the house. His confused expression fled his features in a lightning strike. Amelia watched as his brows rose so high on his forehead that they nearly touched his hairline.

“What on…”

But the words trailed off, and Amelia just grinned, preening like a cat who’d stopped a determined mouse from entering the kitchen stores.

“Something simply had to be done about it, husband. A grand estate such as ours requires a grand conserv?—”

He pushed past her, sinking farther into the room as his eyes roamed this way and that. Richard tracked every single plant and leaf and bud that had been stuffed into the space, his lips slightly parted as he did.

Still, her husband was utterly silent. Amelia had been certain that he would be cross, that the Duke would let loose a tirade of cut downs in his attempt to scold and belittle her. But he said nothing.

In fact, he looked…serene.

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