Page 74 of The Duke's Pet

“Thank you, but I was very small. I’d just been born when it happened. I’m sorry to say I don’t recall him in my life at all. What I know is hearsay, but it did make my mother a terrible worrier over me. She hated me to be out of her sight if we were outdoors, and that wasn’t very often. Due to that, I was a pale, rather frail child.”

They started walking again. “That is not the case now,” she said. “I’ve seen you without clothes. You are strong and not at all pale; well, maybe your behind is a bit.”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “You do say the most outrageous things for a lady.”

“Am I a lady?”

“Oh, yes, you certainly are to me.” He rested his hand on hers. “And back to your point, no, I am not the same person I was as a child. When my mother died in my teens I rebelled and spent as much time outdoors as I could, whatever the weather.”

“Did your father mind?”

“He suffered terribly in his grief. He died not long after my eighteenth birthday. I miss my parents, of course I do, but I became fond of James’ father, he was the gamekeeper at the time. A real salt of the earth guy if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do, that phrase was often spoken in relation to my father.”

“Then he and I would have likely got on like a house on fire.”

They walked past the end of the lake, disturbing a small family of ducks as they went.

“James’ father, Derek, was a keen botanist,” the duke said. “He taught me everything he knew and what he didn’t know I found out from books. Coupled with some time at Edinburgh University I really got a grip on turning a hobby into a profession.”

“Which is very admirable.”

“I’m glad you think so, but I couldn’t have done it without help, and I certainly couldn’t have done it without Hillcrest.” He stopped and spread out his hands, gesturing to the sprawling landscape before them. “This is truly a magnificent specimen of nature.”

“Yes, it really is.”

“And just beyond that tree, Jemima, is what I’ve brought you to see.”

“I can hardly wait.”

The grotto turned out to be much bigger than Jemima had imagined. It was a large enclosed structure with a domed roof and wide steps leading to a pillared porch.

“Come, I will show you inside.” He led her up the steps.

Once at the top he opened the stiff oak door. It scraped on the gritty floor, the sound echoing around the vacuous space.

“Wow.” She stepped inside. Instantly her attention was drawn upward. The huge domed ceiling was decorated with intricate little paintings of flowers, trees, and birds. “Did you do that?”

“Heavens, no. My mother paid someone to do it; the paintings are not terribly accurate.”

She laughed. “Trust you to notice that from all the way down here.”

“I’m a stickler for accuracy, what can I say.”

She unhooked her arm from his and walked over the hard tiles, her shoes clipping with each step.

The walls were bare and in the center a wooden bench with curved legs was set. On the far wall a huge window, green with moss, looked out at the trees, bringing with them a pretty green hue to the light.

“It’s lovely but...”

“But what?”

“Empty.”

“Yes, what is a grotto for, really? Just a place to walk to, maybe sit for a while.”

“But don’t you see.” She held out her hands.

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