She glanced at the sky, where the sun crept lower on the horizon. It would be a treat to work with the bees, but she didn’t really have time for it.
“’Course if yer afeared,” he continued, “then be on yer way. Agitates my pets somethin’ fierce if they sense anythin’ other than a calm spirit.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid, it’s just that I—”
“Good.” He tipped his head toward a shed near the garden gate. “O’er there ye’ll find a spare pair o’ gloves and a netting fer yer face. Not that ye’ll take a sting from these lovelies, but always pays to take a care.”
“But I really can’t—”
“Don’t ye fret, now. Yer fine gown won’t get mucked up a bit or my name isn’t Phineas. I’ll be right here a-waitin’ for ye.”
Biting back a ragged sigh, she strode past him. It would be faster to simply help the fellow than argue with him. She yanked the hood over her head and shoved her hands into the gloves, more annoyed with herself for having paused by the bees in the first place. It was a ridiculous obsession, one her father had never understood. Her mother, though ... Ami’s heart softened as she shut the shed door. When dabbling in nature, she always felt closer to her mother. And besides, there were only three skeps. How long could it take?
“All right,” she said as she once again joined Phineas’s side. “Now what?”
“Jes stand there and hold this.” He handed her the empty basket. “I’ll load ’er up, and tha’s about all there is to it.”
Humming an old folksong, he set to work, puffing out a great deal of smoke around the first hive. Carefully, he then removed the dome and began carving out pieces of honeycomb with a small knife. She held out the basket to collect each chunk.
He eyed her as he set a piece inside. “Ye must be that professor woman Jameson told me about.”
Her brows raised. How novel. Finally, someone who didn’t question her abilities. “My father is the professor, but I have studied at his feet since a young girl. I’m an Egyptologist, here in his stead, cataloguing Mr. Price’s recent collection of artifacts.”
“Not here for the man, eh?”
“No, just at his request.”
“Well, well.” His grey eyes twinkled as he replaced the dome and moved to the next hive. “I expect he finds that a mite refreshing.”
Suddenly the disguise Mr. Price had worn when he’d hunted down her father’s office made sense. “He is frequently beleaguered by women, then?”
Phineas clucked his tongue. “I expect that’s what’s kept ’im from home all these years. That and ... well, other reasons, I suppose. He is the most eligible bachelor in all of Oxford, leastwise that’s what I hear.”
Ami cocked her head. Not that the man wasn’t thoroughly charming and pleasing to the eye, but integrity and looks alone didn’t make for such renown. “What makes him so sought after?”
“The name. Though they’re not titled folk, surely ye’ve heard of the Prices.”
“I, em, don’t really keep up with the rumblings of society, unless that society has something to do with ancient Egypt.”
“You are a singular woman, I’ll give ye that.” He chuckled. “The Prices made their money in the shipping industry, then expanded into other merchant investments. For all the talk of family lineage—of which there are some notable forefathers in the Price past—it is the wealth that attracts the women. His many estates, both here and abroad, lure ’em in like a fat leech on a hook.”
Interesting information, though probably a good thing she hadn’t known of it earlier, or she may have judged him more harshly. Wealthy men were notoriously arrogant, but Mr. Price had proved otherwise.
“You seem to know a lot about the Price family.” A bee landedon the back of her hand, and she blew it away with a gentle huff of air. “How long have you worked here?”
“Long as I been breathin.’ My family’s served Price House for generations.”
Two more bees tickled the skin near her wrist, and ever so lightly, she brushed them away.
Phineas paused before setting the next lump in the basket, his gaze holding hers. “Ye’ve a steady hand, miss, sign o’ a steady heart as well.”
Longing swelled in her chest. Would that her father had taken the time to notice such a thing. “It is kind of you to say so. Thank you.”
The gardener went back to humming as he moved to the last skep. After a few more cuts of honeycomb, he finished his tune. “Did ye know bees are some o’ the most consistent creatures around? They’ve a job to do, and they do it without fail. I reckon that’s a lesson fer all o’ us, keepin’ our commitments no matter what distractions come our way. One could do worse than learn from these beauties.”
Oh, the irony. Instant guilt churned in her belly. Of course old Phineas could have no way of knowing that his ruminations hit her like a hammer, for that’s exactly what she was doing by sneaking away tonight. Taking time from her commitment to Mr. Price, being distracted from her work here. Then again, sitting at a linen-clothed table wasn’t really working either.
Was it?
