Page 35 of The Nature of a Lady
He provided the names while Mrs. Dawe prepared a plate of sandwiches and sweets for each of them. Rather impressed that Lady Elizabeth didn’t require any help in spelling the Latin, he made no objection when she flipped back to the pages dedicated to a few of the Australian specimens from the Abbey Gardens and asked for their binomial designations too.
They ate while they discussed the plants—since the Latin names led to which other varieties were related and how they managed to flourish so well in the Scillies—and he found himself rather liking the way Lady Elizabeth took actual, hungry bites of her sandwich, rather than the dainty nibbles he and Morgan used to tease Beth for attempting.
And why was he watching how she ate?
Mamm-wynn interrupted his thoughts with a hand on his wrist. With her other, she covered a yawn. “I think I’d better go and rest for a bit.”
Mrs. Dawe sprang forward from where she’d been waiting by the door for that very announcement.
Mamm-wynn let Oliver help her to her feet, though she paused once standing, as she always did, to pat his cheek. “I don’t imagine you two will complain about some time to yourselves.”
Oliver frowned. Shouldn’t she have instead been assuring him that Mrs. Dawe would return momentarily to chaperone?
Mrs. Dawe apparently thought so, given the baffled look she shot him. “Perhaps you ought to walk Lady Elizabeth back to the Abbey Gardens, sir, so Mabena can find her.”
“Of course.”
Mamm-wynn waved a hand at him as if she thought he should sit again. “Let them have their time, Margie. Don’t you remember what it’s like to be a newlywed?”
He’d never thought himself given to embarrassment, but Oliver’s face felt alive with flames. As did his neck. And his ears. And—he spun, eyes wide and an apology ready to trip off his lips.
Lady Elizabeth was blushing too, but she was still smiling at his grandmother. “Have a lovely afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne. I hope to see you again soon.”
His grandmother gave her a pointed look. He didn’t know what it was for, but it seemed Lady Elizabeth did. “I mean, Mamm-wynn.”
Mamm-wynn nodded. “Better. And I should think so. I won’t napthatlong.”
Lady Elizabeth closed her notebook and stood as Mrs. Dawe ushered his grandmother out. He waited until they’d cleared the room, then faced her again. Spread his hands. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over her. She’s...”
He couldn’t say it. Could only spin his hands, searching for some other word.
Her fingers caught his, stilled them. “She’s the most delightful person I think I’ve ever met. There’s no need to apologize, sir.”
Wasn’t there? When his grandmother was acting as though they were married? He shook his head and let her lower his hands. “She is. But lately—I don’t know where she gets some of her ideas. I certainly didn’t ... I mean, I hadn’t said anything...”
She let go of his hands, though her smile didn’t dim any. “I don’t know where she got the idea either, but it does explain a few things she said to me in the garden. I thought she’d confused me with someone else?”
Was it a question of whether hewasinvolved with someone—or, more likely, a question of what in the world Mamm-wynn had meant? Either way, he had to shake his head. “I can’t think who. You bear a passing resemblance to my sister, but not so much that she’d mistake you. And even if she did, she wouldn’t have then madethosecomments.”
He motioned, as he spoke, to a photograph, framed and hanging on the wall, that they’d had taken a few years before. Their last summer with Morgan, though they hadn’t known it at the time.
Feared it. But hadn’t known it.
The four of them, all that remained of the family within these walls. The three siblings and their father’s mother.
She moved over to it and studied it as intently as she did the Gardens. “No, we certainly don’t look that similar. Your sister is very pretty.”
She was, though he wasn’t sure if agreeing with the statement would somehow imply that Lady Elizabethwasn’t. Which certainly wasn’t true, was it? He still had a hard time putting words to the question, even when she was standing right before him.Prettywas such an arbitrary thing. All he knew was that he liked looking at her, talking with her. That seemed far more important.
She didn’t wait for him to comment before adding, “And this is your older brother?”
“Morgan. Yes.” Had Mabena told her anything about him? It was possible—she’d always adored him. Oliver slid over to her side to look at the familiar lines and planes of his brother’s face. How glad he was that they had this reminder to keep the image fresh. “He died two years ago. The doctors weren’t sure what it was that kept him ill for much of his life, but it finally won.”
Her gaze was on him now, rather than the photo. “I’m so very sorry.”
Perhaps eventually he’d be able to speak of him, to think of him without this tightness in his throat. “He was my best friend.”
“Then he must have been a most remarkable young man.”
