Page 109 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
Dinah was across the seat and out the other door before Oliver could finish his sentence. She just had time to scramble onto the box before he rounded the side of the carriage. “If you want me down, you’ll have to drag me off.”
“Do you suppose I won’t?” Oliver’s shoulders were rigid and his jaw tight with anger. He looked more than capable of dragging her off the box and tossing her into the carriage.
Dinah gripped the rails and braced herself for a battle, but he only stood there, his arms at his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching. They stared at each other without speaking as the wind and rain swirled around them, until Oliver shook his head. “What’s this about, Dinah?”
“I just…I can’t…I don’t want you to be left out here alone.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Dear God, how hadthatslipped out? She waited in an agony of embarrassment for Oliver to laugh at her, but he didn’t. He simply stood beside the carriage gazing up at her, and despite the dark she saw his blue eyes soften, and the tension ease from his jaw.
He didn’t say another word, but went around the carriage, ascended the box and took up the reins. The horses started forward. Dinah and Oliver sat side by side, neither of them speaking as Rundell and Bridge picked their way over the rutted road. A half dozen miles had passed beneath the carriage wheels before Oliver asked, “Are you cold?”
She pulled her cloak tighter around her throat. “Yes.”
There was no sense lying about it. Any person of flesh and blood would be cold, given the circumstances. What Dinah didn’t say, however, was despite the rugs and the luxurious velvet seats, she was far more comfortable beside him on the box than she’d been in the carriage.
Oliver only nodded, and another long silence passed as Dinah wracked her brains for something to say. He’d begun, and it was only fair she should do her part. “The music box for the baby…” she began, then fell silent again.
She wasn’t sure how to say she thought it was the loveliest gift she’d ever seen.
From your loving uncle…
“Yes?”
“It…I…you asked me if I thought the child would like it, and I never answered you. I think… I think your niece or nephew will treasure it.”
Oliver turned to her in surprise. “Thank you.”
After another mile of trying to keep silent, Dinah gave up the struggle. “What sort of gift did you mean to give Penelope? That is, you haven’t known her long, and I just wondered…”
I wondered if you take such exquisite care of all the people you love.
“Exotic pineapples,” Oliver said, without taking his attention off the road.
Pineapples? Dinah’s brows drew together. She’d never tasted a pineapple herself, but she knew they were meant to be sweet and delicious. As far as she knew, Penelope wasn’t particularly fond of the fruit, but ladies did sometimes experience the strangest cravings when they were with child. “Has she developed a taste for pineapples?”
Oliver lips curved in a brief smile. “This one isn’t for eating. Well, not at once, anyway. It’s for planting.”
Ah, that made more sense. Penelope had a passion for plants and flowers. For as long as Dinah had known her, Penelope had spoken wistfully about how lovely it would be to have a garden. Cliff’s Edge had extensive grounds, and sometimes Dinah teased Penelope she’d married Lord Archer for his gardens alone.
“You can’t grow proper pineapples in England,” Oliver was saying. “It’s too wet and cold, but there’s an earl in Sittingbourne, a Lord Horace, who grows his own in his greenhouses. Penelope can grow them herself if she has a pineapple to start. You simply cut the top off the fruit, soak it in water for a time, then plant it.”
“But where will she plant it? You just said England is too cold to grow pineapples.”
“It is, but I happen to know Will’s Christmas gift to Penelope is a greenhouse. It’s ridiculously large—a monstrosity, really—but you know how Will is.” Oliver chuckled. “Nothing is too good for his wife. You mustn’t tell Penelope, though. It’s a surprise.”
“No, I won’t. How did you come to find out about Lord Horace’s pineapples?” Dinah’s voice was faint, because she was speaking around a lump in her throat. She’d known Penelope for much longer than Oliver had, but even she couldn’t think of anything her friend would love more than Oliver’s gift. He just seemed to know, instinctively, how to bring joy to those he loved.
Oliver shrugged. “I asked around a bit, and soon enough someone pointed me to Lord Horace. You can find anything in England if you’re willing to search it out. Indeed, it was much easier to get Lord Horace’s name than it was to secure an appointment with him. It took weeks to get him to agree to meet with me.”
Penelope swallowed. “Oh?”
“Yes. He’s a bit of a recluse, and protective of his plants. I sent him half a dozen letters before he agreed to see me, and even then, I had to promise Penelope would take exquisite care of his pineapples.”
Weeks of planning, a half-dozen letters…this wasn’t simply a whim of Oliver’s. He’d put a great deal of thought into Penelope’s gift, and in the space of one day, Dinah had spoiled it for him. “If you miss your appointment with Lord Horace, he’s isn’t likely to grant you another, is he?”
If Oliver had been waiting to take her to task for upsetting his plans, this would be the moment to do so, but not a word of recrimination passed his lips. He only shrugged. “No.”
Dinah said nothing, but she was busily adding up miles and hours in her head. Sittingbourne was south of Rochester, nearly a fifty miles ride from Canvey Island. It would take them all night too get there, but what was a single night when weighed against exotic pineapples?
