Page 28 of Guilty Pleasures

Like all the other rooms at Tremore Hall, this one was enormous. At least fifty feet long, its ceiling was composed entirely of octagonal glass panes. Three of the walls were glass as well, braced every eight feet by stone columns. Arches curved overhead, attaching those columns to another set of identical ones that ran down the center rather like a Roman forum. The glass reflected light from sconces that lined the wall of the house. Additional light was provided by various candelabra set atop tall stone pillars placed throughout the room.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennington started strolling toward one side of the building, and Daphne moved to the center, Anthony beside her as she studied her surroundings. There were lemon trees, which she recognized at once, and there were also date palms and towering fig trees that reminded her of Palestine. There were three different fountains, several statues, and plenty of stone benches so one could sit and enjoy the serene environment. Flowers in brilliant colors bloomed everywhere. Some she recognized, some she had never seen before.

“Is it not as magnificent as I told you, Daphne?” called Mrs. Bennington from somewhere behind a grove of trees and palms.

“It is,” she agreed, and paused in the center of the vast expanse, staring at the arches overhead and the many panes of glass above them. “I have never seen anything like this before,” she added, and returned her attention to the man standing nearby. “I am awed, your grace. Truly awed.”

He smiled at her, and she caught her breath. Like the sun coming out. “From you, who has seen so much of the world, that is the highest of compliments. Thank you.”

Daphne took another look around, spinning in a slow circle, then she faced him again. “It is so very English, is it not?”

He laughed, and she looked at him in bewilderment, unable to figure out what he found so amusing.

“Miss Wade, you are surrounded by Greek statues, Italian lemon trees, bonsai in the custom of Nippon, and pineapples from the Sandwich Islands. How much less English can it be?”

Daphne couldn’t help smiling back at him. “Well, it is very English. No one I ever knew in Italy had a lemon tree inside the house, and the date palms in Palestine are so scrawny compared with these. And what on earth is a bonsai?”

He pointed to a stone planter near her feet. She gave a cry of delight and knelt down for a closer look. “Why, these are miniature apple trees, with apples on them!” Looking up at him, she asked, “Are they really apples?”

“See for yourself.” Anthony knelt beside her, plucked off one of the cherry-size fruits, and pressed it to her mouth. She hesitated only a moment, then parted her lips. “Apples mean temptation, you know,” he said as she took the fruit into her mouth.

Daphne almost swallowed the miniature apple whole at the touch of his fingers against her lips. He had touched her just this way earlier in the garden, and just as before, her whole body felt suddenly warm, as if a delightful wave of the Aegean Sea had washed over her. She wanted to stay here forever. She wanted to run away as fast as she could.

In the end, she did neither. She rose to her feet, striving to maintain her most impassive expression as she chewed and swallowed the fruit. “They are indeed apples,” she finally said, keeping her voice devoid of any of the turbulent feeling rushing through her. “Just as I said. Very English.”

She turned away and found that in front of her was a raised flower bed of the strangest-looking plants she had ever seen. Each was composed of a cluster of long, upright leaves, with one stem coming out of the center that was capped with some sort of fruit. “How very odd they look,” she said to Anthony over one shoulder. “What are they?”

“Pineapples. They are given as a gesture of welcome. Have you ever eaten one?”

When she shook her head, he lifted his hand, and a footman appeared out of nowhere. “Cut a pineapple for Miss Wade,” he said, and before she could protest, the servant snapped one of the strange, prickly fruits from its stalk. “Take it to the kitchens, please, and tell them to serve it to Miss Wade with her breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” The footman bowed and vanished with the pineapple as Anthony returned his attention to her.

“If you are fond of the taste,” he said, “feel free to have one any time you like during the remainder of your stay.”

She did not want Anthony to do things for her. That was never what she had wanted, and it was too late now to make a difference anyway. “Thank you,” she murmured. “That is very kind of you, your grace.”

“Contrary to certain reports, I have been known to be kind on occasion.” Laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, though he did not smile. “But I confess I am not being kind just now.”

“Yes, I know, and it is not going to work.”

He tried to look innocent. “What is not going to work?”

“This blatant attempt to trick me into staying with charm and—and other such tactics.”

“I know you are far too intelligent to be fooled by charm or trickery, Miss Wade. Can we not just say I am using the only weapon I have?”

“Persuasion?”

“Temptation. If I can tempt you with the fruits of my garden of Eden, you might stay.” He gestured to a grove of figs nearby. “Would you care to see the passion fruit?”

Daphne followed him through the jungle of trees to a trellis on the other side that was tangled with a lush growth of vines. “This is called passion fruit?” she asked as they paused before the trellis. She studied the plant for a moment, then said, “I think something with such a name should look more extraordinary than this.”

“The vine may be unremarkable, but when it blooms, the flower is lovely. It signifies devotion.”

She turned toward him with a quizzical look. “Apples for temptation. Pineapples for welcome. Passion flower for devotion. Do all plants signify a sentiment, then?”

“Many of them do. Have you never read Le Langage des Fleurs ?”

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