“Thank you.” The words perhaps came out a bit more emphatic than Lottie intended. But she felt much like a prisoner just reprieved from the guillotine. “Thank you for this.”
Margaret glanced back at her, a wan smile on her face, shook her head, and then left.
Lottie took several steps into the greenhouse, passing by the bench Margaret indicated. The glasshouse was impressively large. Paths disappeared into densely packed trees and shrubs. She followed one a little farther into the building, finding another bench to sit upon.
The air inside the glasshouse was damp but refreshing, laden with the scent of exotic climes. As if the geraniums and camellia were settling in for the night and filling the air with a lullaby.
Lottie took in a deep breath. And then another.
Cleansing her lungs slowed the thump of her heart, but that, in turn, only highlighted the never-ending ache in her chest.
What was she to do?
She could not betray her family and choose Alex. Her loyal heart couldn’t do it.
But it all meant livingwithoutAlex.
There was no choice that did not hurt.
Une crise, indeed.
The snick of the greenhouse door sounded.
Had Margaret returned so soon?
Lottie peeked through the plants to see two shadowy figures slip inside. Her startled shriek of alarm instantly morphed into a sigh of despair.
“Alex. Grandmère,” she whispered as they walked around a large oleander bush to greet her. She stood. “Whyever are you here?”
Grandmère had her hand tucked into Alex’s elbow. She patted his arm.
“The doctor insisted upon speaking with you,ma puce.” Grandmère shrugged. “I felt it important for you both to clear the air. Margaret will be a moment, as she was waylaid by Lady Gardner, so you will have a few minutes. I shall make myself comfortable over here and ponder the foliage.” She motioned toward a bench tucked a bit farther along a path and well out of sight of the door. “It will give you privacy to speak.”
Grandmère moved to brush past Lottie and then paused.
“Je t’aime, ma puce.” Grandmère pressed a kiss to Lottie’s cheek and then whispered in her ear. “Choose your own path and be happy.”
Lottie sucked in a breath as Grandmère continued past her, taking a seat on the bench, her face politely turned away.
Lottie pivoted back to Alex, her mind buzzing.
“Forgive my maneuvering, but I had tae see ye, lass.” He set aside his cane and reached for her gloved hands with his own. “I feared I was going tae have to scale the walls of Ferndown’s house to be able to speak with ye. But the Dowager was accommodating when I asked for an audience with ye.”
Lottie stared up at his face in the dim moonlight.
He was supposed to be her enemy. But all she could see was the outline of her dearest friend, her truest love.
Had it truly been over a month since she had last spoken with him?
A month since that afternoon along the lane, glorying in his kisses?
Abruptly, even spending another second outside his embrace was intolerable. This might be the last time she was ever (relatively) alone with him. She could not let the moment pass in polite inquiries after one another’s health.
Lottie darted a glance at Grandmère and pulled Alex deeper into the drooping tree branches. She stepped closer, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and popped up onto her tiptoes, pressing her mouth to his.
If Alex were surprised at all, his reaction did not show it.
His arms slipped around her, one around her waist, the other pressing into the center of her back.
