HARRIET AWOKE EARLYthe next morning, eager for what the day would bring. She said a quick prayer first thing, as was her daily routine. “And Lord, please bless the duke and his grandmother, and keep them safe in your hands. Thank you for bringing them to me…or should I say, for deliveringmetothem.”
She then prepared herself for the day, taking more time than usual in washing up because for the next few days she was a woman of leisure.
Besides washing her body with one of the fragrant soaps provided to her, a lovely lemon-scented one that felt soft as cream on her skin, she also took a moment to wash her hair. The sun was up and the day was already warming, so she knew her hair would dry well before any of the guests awoke. This would give her the opportunity to explore Pendrake Hall’s magnificent grounds while the sunshine dried her unbound hair.
She donned the prettiest of her three gowns, a russet muslin that could never compare to the beautiful gowns worn by the ladies attending the duke’s house party, and then made her way down the servants stairs, intending to quietly walk out the back.
The stairs she chose led into the kitchen that was already bustling as the cook and her staff prepared the day’s meals.
The scullery maids paused in their duties to stare at her.
The cook frowned. “And who might ye be, young miss? Did ye lose yer way?”
“I do apologize for interrupting you,” Harriet said with a smile. “My, that smells delicious. And may I mention that your meal last night was the best I have ever tasted in my entire life? I can see why His Grace speaks so highly of you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Paltry. I am Miss Harriet Comeford.”
The cook blushed, obviously not expecting any compliments. Nor did she expect to be called by name, but seemed quite pleased that Harriet knew it.
“She’s the young lady His Grace settled in the Blue Room,” said one of the footmen seated at a long table along with several others on the duke’s staff who were obviously being served their breakfast.
Others began to whisper, and Harriet heard her assigned bedchamber mentioned in awe several times, as though this was the room reserved for royalty.
“Do forgive me, m’lady,” the cook said with a reverence Harriet found most amusing, and gave a quick curtsy.
“Nothing at all to forgive,” Harriet assured the woman who looked very much as she imagined a cook ought to look despite the ironic coincidence of her name. Paltry denoted something small or meager, but this cook was plump and ruddy-cheeked, had beefy hands, and a no-nonsense attitude. “I am the trespasser here, Mrs. Paltry. I was merely hoping to slip out of the house unnoticed so that I might explore the beautiful grounds. I have a view of the garden and the meadow beyond from my windows and was eager to see them up close. These grounds are obviously well thought out and maintained with love.”
Two men at the table stood up, one an older gentleman with a lanky build and a younger fellow who was probably his son due to the resemblance. The older man confirmed it not a moment later. “I’m the head gardener, Alfred Blunt, and this is my son, Herbert. We will gladly show you around, m’lady…that is, if you have any interest in—”
“I would be most grateful, Mr. Blunt,” Harriet said with a nod. “I had a small garden in my prior home that I enjoyed tending, but I never got my roses to bloom as yours do. I would love to learn your secret.”
It was not long before young Herbert and his father, Alfred, were leading her about the formal grounds, discussing every plant and its care. “Good placement in the sun is important for roses, m’lady. But other flowers require more shade. We’re fortunate to have steady rainfall to feed these plants, but not all can endure too much water.”
“So you’ve selected the hardier blooms for this portion of the garden?” Harried asked.
“Aye, Miss Comeford, because they can withstand the more drastic changes nature throws at them. Take these flowers along the border of each planting bed…”
Harriet listened in fascination as Alfred revealed the tricks he used to create his splendid blooms. “When the weather turns cold, we cut the rose stalks down to here,” he said, showing her how far down he cut the branches to strengthen them for the next year’s bloom. “But anything we plant also needs to be fed, just as any of us require nourishment to thrive.”
“What do you mean?” Harriet watched as he picked up a handful of soil to show her. “How does one feed a plant?”
“We add certain things to the soil in the spring and at times throughout the planting season. Herbert here has been experimenting with various natural elements.”
“Natural? Such as?” Harriet was truly engrossed even though she no longer had a garden of her own and would likely never have another.
“Some crops seem to invigorate the soil. Beans and turnips do wonders. Orange peels are my latest discovery,” Herbert said with obvious pride.
“Where would you get oranges? They are quite the delicacy.”
“The duke has us grow them in his orangery,” Alfred said. “I’m sure he would show you if you asked him.”
“I would, Miss Comeford,” a voice she recognized as belonging to the duke said jovially from behind her.
She had been so caught up in studying the soil, she had not heard his approach.
“Oh.” She turned in dismay, for her hair was still damp and unbound, and she never meant for him to see her like this. “Good morning, Your Grace. I did not expect you to be up at this hour.”
He looked extraordinarily handsome in his casual clothing that consisted of buff breeches, a coarse linen shirt, and scuffed brown boots. Of course, those boots were of the finest leather. “I’m usually an early riser. By this time in my normal routine, I would have just returned from my morning ride. But I skipped it today to steal a few hours of sleep. Perhaps you’ll join me when I ride tomorrow.”
She laughed lightly. “Oh, no. I do not know the first thing about horses. Nor do I have the proper outfit for it, even if I knew how to sit astride one.”
