“No,” he said.
“He is very attentive,” she said, “and very charming. Not to mention handsome.”
“I have a higher opinion of your intelligence,” he said.
“But he will be an earl one day,” she said.
“Perhaps.”
There was a brief silence before she spoke again. “And you, Mr.GabrielThorne,” she said. “What do you have to offer the daughter and sister of a duke? Willyoube an earl one day?”
Was he mistaken or had she put a slight emphasis upon his first name?
They met Boris Wayne, one of Lord Molenor’s sons, and Adrian Sawyer, Viscount Dirkson’s son, at that moment. Each had a young lady on his arm—the very two with whom Gabriel had tried and failed to make conversation earlier. There was a merry exchange of greetings. The four of them were on their way down to the river to see if there were any boats free.
“We are going to see the hothouses,” Lady Jessica told them.
“I would not bother if I were you, Jess,” Boris Wayne advised. “We were just there and they are very hot inside and very full of people. Who wants to be jostled by the multitudes just for the pleasure of cooking as one gazes at row upon row of orange trees? We stayed for three minutes total.”
“Two,” the young lady on his arm said. And giggled.
“And a half,” her sister added—and giggled.
“There is a floral clock through there,” Adrian Sawyer told them, pointing to a high privet hedge to his right, “and an impressive fountain. And there is the rose arbor up beside the house. Someone told me there are a thousand blooms there, but I did not stop to count.”
The sisters thought that deserved another burst of glee.
“The air is cooler out on the river,” Lady Jessica said. “Enjoy the boats.”
The four of them went on their way, chatting and laughing.
“They were mute when I met them earlier with their mother and eldest sister,” Gabriel said. “Giggling, but otherwise mute.”
“Doubtless they were intimidated by your solemn grandeur,” Lady Jessica said. “And your advanced age.”
“Do you think?” he asked.
“I think,” she said.
“I suppose,” he said, “I ought to have realized that if the hothouses were recommended to me, they would be recommended to multitudes of others too. Shall we forget about them? Go to the rose arbor instead?”
“To see a thousand roses?” she said. “By all means. It will make a change from gazing upon a single one.”
“Are you offended by those?” he asked her.
She turned her head to look at him again. Her parasol made a lacy pattern of sunshine and shade across her face beneath the brim of her bonnet. She was very beautiful. It was not an original observation, but her good looks were a constant source of wonder to him.
“No.” She hesitated. “Quite the contrary.”
Crowds seemed to be gathering on the terrace and the reason became obvious as they drew closer. Tea was being set out on long tables covered with white cloths, and it did indeed look like the veritable feast Lady Vickers had predicted. Servants were setting up small tables and chairs on what was left of the terrace and on the lawn below.
“Are you hungry?” Gabriel asked.
“I would rather go to the rose arbor,” she said.
Interesting. She might have lost him easily enough among the crowds gathering about the food tables—if she wished to do so, that was. Apparently she did not.
He expected that the rose arbor would be crowded too, and probably it had been until a short while ago. Now there was only one group of people on the lower tier, deep in animated conversation. The second and top tiers appeared to be deserted. Tea had been deemed of more interest than roses.
