She ought to put her guard up, to force herself to focus on whatreallymattered while she was under his roof: recovery, remaining hidden, and, of course, aiding the young Miss Elizabeth before the rendezvous in London. She most certainly oughtn’t wonder if Mr. Notley’s hair was as soft as it appeared, or what it would feel like to slide her hand inside his cuff like Elizabeth had done during their interview. Indeed, that would be scandalous.
“And this is the billiards room,” Mr. Notley was saying.
Oh, dear. Juliana had missed the past several rooms at least while she was ruminating. Attempting to recover, she made a noncommittal humming noise in response and corrected the direction of her thoughts.
He guided her in another turn and gestured into an opened doorway. “That is the card room; it has an adjoining door at the rear to another card room and, beyond that, a music room, which opens into the ballroom on the left.”
They approached a set of double doors next, and he swung them wide, preceding her into the grand space. Juliana’s eyes widened in awe as she strode in behind him. The ceiling high above was embellished with gilt leaves and painted with cherubs and dancing cupids. The chandeliers hung high, glittering even in the dim light coming through the windows along the far wall. The room was magnificent, with creams and gilt, the floor a glossy cream marble. Furniture had been abandoned in one corner of the space and covered with sheets, and just beyond that was a balcony for an orchestra.
Having spent the past nine years gracing the walls of ballrooms, with little to do but converse with her friends and admire the fine spaces, Juliana considered herself rather proficient in the art of judging ballrooms. The ballroom in Juliana’s familial home was beautiful in its own right: black and white with a checked marble floor, which was rather modern in style. Butthis. Mr. Notley’s was an elegant masterpiece that was truly something to behold.
It was curious indeed that he, a seemingly modest gentleman farmer, would have so large a home—and the funds to keep every room clean and the seldom-used corridors lit with beeswax candles. He must have had fruitful crop yields and loyal tenant farmers, for certain.
Was he a busy man, always locked in his study conducting business, or did he spend time interacting with his niece? From what she’d witnessed earlier, he appeared nearly indifferent to—if not slightly irritated by—her presence. Did he know how to interact with her? That was something, perhaps, that Juliana would attempt to learn.
While her position in the home was temporary, she would be pleased to know that she’d made a difference in her time there. That perhaps, while she imparted her knowledge onto Miss Notley, she could also bring the girl joy and impart some knowledge on the gentleman of the house, as well.
The man waved a hand nonchalantly through the air. “I imagine that Lizzy will have dancing lessons in here at some time, but I rather doubt that it will be any time soon. I really ought to have it turned into a library or some such, for I doubt it will ever serve its purpose again.”
Juliana gasped, and an objection burst from her mouth. “Oh, but you mustn’t! I—I beg your pardon, Mr. Notley, but this room is far too beautiful to alter.”
His gaze searched hers for a moment, before his lips curved and he looked away. “I’ve a room that might interest you, Miss Smith.”
* * *
They strodein silence through a series of rooms and down several corridors, their footfalls muffled by the thick runner. Leonard walked with purpose, his body aching with need and his mind screaming at him to stop. No matter what his body—and bloody Percy—thought, he didn’t deserve to be happy with a woman. Not again. No matter how damned tempting Miss Smith might be, not only was she under his employ—which would make him even more of a cad to contemplate—but he’d made a promise of celibacy. For the first time in a long while, his body just didn’t want to listen.
She carried with her an aroma of flowers that he couldn’t quite place: not roses, lilacs, or anything common, certainly. It was unique, as though she’d acquired a perfume from abroad. He’d seen the bottle, too—blue, worn, and chipped on one side—when he’d examined the contents of her pockets while she was ill, but it was unlabelled. The mystery of it played over in his mind, and despite his efforts to the contrary, his musings grew increasingly libidinous. He burned to know what it was, and where and how she applied it. Did she use one drop at her throat, behind her ears, her wrists…or did she put it between her breasts? He imagined himself pressing his nose to each sensitive spot and inhaling, searching for the source of her scent.
Unconsciously quickening his pace down the corridor, Leo bit back a growl and resisted the urge to shake his shoulders free of their sudden tension.You can’t have her, he reminded himself.
With relief, he noted that they’d arrived at the thick, unyielding door that he’d been racing toward, and he reached for its large handle. “Here we are.”
With a small amount of effort, Leo swung the door wide, and was immediately struck with a wall of warmth, humidity, and the overwhelming scent of flowers.
“A conservatory!” Miss Smith exclaimed as she strode past him.
The large space was one long rectangle, with the floor and the bottom half of the walls made with a curious mixture of cemented pebbles and crushed brick, while the ceiling and upper walls were composed of large rectangular windows. Two wide fireplaces were built into the walls on either side of the conservatory’s length, and both had fires burning in the hearth nearly all year round to keep the blooms at the desired temperature.
Miss Smith walked along the first of four rows of blooms, hidden by some plants that had been placed upon tall, narrow tables. Leo hurried to catch up, walking along the second row and catching glimpses of her between spots of vivid colour.
She paused to touch the petal of a bright-yellow flower. “I’ve a friend that would dearly love this place.”
“Have you, indeed?”
Her lips curved, and Leo’s cheek gave a responding twitch.
“She studies all manner of plants,” Miss Smith continued, “and keeps a modest collection in a small conservatory that she’s built at her home.”
“There is an identical conservatory, as well, on the opposite end of Woodhaven Hall. It houses fruits and vegetables that are seasonal,” Leo noted lamely. “I daresay your friend could come and enjoy the conservatories any time that she desires.”
His chest tightened, and a faint sense of panic fluttered in his heart. Christ, why would he suggest such a thing?Moreguests? He’d been fortunate enough that Miss Smith hadn’t recognized his name, but another might, and he couldn’t stomach their reaction if they did. He turned and continued his walk, following the sound of trickling water toward the circular fountain that graced the centre of the conservatory.
Keeping both spaces filled and operating was costly, to be sure, and if they hadn’t already been a fixture in his home, he wouldn’t have added them, but they brought him peace and bloody good desserts. He was fortunate that his tenant farmers brought a steady income and both his sheep and crops proved prosperous. Lizzy would want for nothing. Except, perhaps, a life free from his tainted name.
“Have I your permission to bring Miss Notley into the conservatories so that she might begin learning the names of the plants?” Miss Smith asked, having resumed her walk, as well.
Leo clasped his hands behind his back, grateful that his offer was ignored. “Of course. This is her home; she has leave to learn any part of it that she wishes.”
