Page 41 of His Haunted Duchess
He looked at her in surprise. His eyebrows knit in concern.
“How so? What ill could possibly come from flowers?”
“No ill, perhaps, but definitely silliness. As a child, my favorite plant was cow parsley. It looked so much like a fairy wand or a white woodland crown. I used to pick them and weave the stems together and set them on my horse’s head like a tiara.”
“As a lady should.” He nodded solemnly, but a smile played around his lips. “No doubt you appreciated it far more than your horse. And as a lady now grown? What is your preference?”
Caroline rubbed a blade of dull grass between her fingers.
“Corncockle, with its smooth bell and flash of magenta, pleases me more and more. And?—”
She paused.
“Yes?”
He was staring at her now with his dark, vibrant eyes. She looked at her feet.
“I do love roses. They’re a trite bloom, some would say, but I see them as eternal, enduring—through frost and blight and cold.” The faces of her family members, blurred by time, passedthrough her mind like faded petals. she whispered, “So few things are.”
It felt intimate, telling him about her flowers almost as if she was telling him about her friends—her family. In a way, she supposed, they had been. Frederic took another bite of sandwich.
“Our preferences are near cousins, then,” he said, cheerfully, “for my favorite is also magenta: the foxglove.”
Was it really? Caroline looked out at the wildflowers with new appreciation.
“We’ll have to go in search of them sometime, perhaps—either here or at Highcastle.”
Lady Olivia slipped on a wet patch of grass and slid to the ground. The monkey sprang over her, evaded Philip’s arms, and raced back the way it had come. Winifred bent down to help Lady Olivia back to her feet. Esther shook her head.
“It’s getting away. There, over there!”
Philip corralled the monkey near the side of a shed, but he hesitated to approach it without reinforcements. Caroline respected his natural reticence, having accidentally cornered the monkey once in the greenhouse herself. Frederic pointed toward the lake.
“There’s something beautiful about the water—something about the way the sun catches it.”
Caroline shivered, but she nodded and said nothing. She hadn’t been near water—not for years. Even bathing had been difficult, at times, and she never submerged her head. The conversation lapsed. Frederic turned away, watching the progress of the monkey hunt.
Her heart reproached her for her coldness, but her reason stood firm. It was better to be acquaintances, to be affable but not—Caroline shut her eyes—not anything else.
Aunt Olivia, Winifred, and Philip hurried in front of them like carts gone to market. The monkey, in some twisted bit of logic, skirted the blankets, snatching at an unguarded bit of fruit.
Winifred dove and snatched it with both hands. Aunt Olivia and Philip cheered. Esther put a hand to her heart.
“That’s one creature I won’t be loath to part with.” And then, when the monkey’s indignant chatter drowned out further speech, “Merciful heavens!”
Winifred hauled the monkey off, both in high dudgeon. Aunt Olivia tried, with limited success, to brush herself off. Philip, hair a little wild from his rush about the grounds, flopped down next to them on the blanket.
“I dare say, Caroline! You never mentioned what spiffing animals you and your aunt keep here!”
Esther, drinking a cup of tea nearby, frowned. Philip caught the glance and sat up.
“That is to say, I must compliment you on your excellent thoroughbreds, my lady. They look to be quite unmatched.”
Frederic laughed. Caroline offered Philip another cake.
“If you mean the monkey, while he may be a thoroughbred amongst his own kind, it’s the horses of which my aunt is most proud. She would be happy to give you a tour of the stables, if you felt so inclined.”
Philip’s face lit up. Even Frederic, in spite of himself, smiled. His face opened with the sunlight falling on it like a benediction. Caroline’s eyes caressed his features. From a distance, at least, she could better see his face.
