Marigold gaped up at the man, her throat tight and her heart pounding. Though his words were scolding, his gaze held a bit of humor as well and she found herself looking much too deeply into his eyes.
“I-I did not realize anyone else was here,” she finally said, dragging her gaze away from his. “I trust I did not offend you, sir.”
Once the shock of the man’s sudden appearance had dissipated, Mari’s composure returned and she lifted her chin in response to his censure.
The corners of his mouth turned up and a twinkle shone from his eyes. “I was not so much offended as I was surprised. Has Miss Wickersham become lax in the training of her charges?”
“No!” she gasped. “I can assure you that Miss Wickersham is most diligent in her expectations for all of us.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he replied, holding out his hand to her. “If you’ll allow me, miss,” he said. “I will see to your wound.”
Marigold gaped up at him, unsure what to do. It was highly irregular for a stranger to be in the garden of Talcott House. In fact, Miss Wickersham was quite adamant about securing the premises, as well as the virtue of her girls.
But something about this man, though clearly not a gentleman, felt reassuring and safe to her. His eyes, ringed by thick lashes, were filled with sincerity and trustworthiness. However, his face was smudged with dirt and, if she were to be truly honest, he smelled of fertilizer.
Her eyes darted past him to her friends, still chattering and taking their time following Garland’s instructions. Surely if this man meant to harm her, he would not do so with others close by.
From the interior of his filthy coat, he drew out a handkerchief which was surprisingly clean, all things considered. “May I?” he asked, nodding toward her injured finger and holding out the handkerchief.
Mari, dumbstruck, simply nodded.
His touch was gentle and though he used his handkerchief to dab at her wound, even that much contact sent a pulsing thrill through her.
“There you go,” he said, his voice like warm chocolate, “all better. You were very brave, little miss.”
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze drifting toward the now-empty cage. The stranger’s gaze followed suit and one of his brows quirked as he turned back to Mari.
“Hm,” he said. “I was certain there was a little brown bunny in there just a few moments ago.”
Mari flushed and could not hold his gaze. “Oh really?” she said.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Yes, I set the trap to catch him. I was just about to take him far into the woods and set him free. He was becoming quite a nuisance eating the plants in the garden. Mr. Walker might not be as forgiving as to use a trap.”
Mari gasped. What had she done? She thought she was helping the poor bunny but maybe she had actually put it in harm’s way.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to the bunny, would you, Miss?” His gaze bore into hers and she felt herself squirming under his scrutiny.
She licked her lips and tried to decide what to say.
“And before you answer, little miss, you should know that I do not take kindly to lies. That is even worse than assisting a bunny to escape my trap.”
“Wh-who are you?” Mari asked.
A small smile formed on his perfectly shaped mouth. “I am here this week assisting my uncle, Mr. Walker.”
“Oh,” Mari said, relaxing. “Mr. Walker does a wonderful job. I just love the gardens here at Talcott House.”
He handed her his handkerchief to hold over her wound then straightened to his full height. This time when Mari looked at him, she could see that he was tall and broad-shouldered, probably from working in gardens like his uncle.
“I am sure my uncle will be very pleased to hear that. Whom shall I tell him was singing his praises?” The corners of theman’s lips turned up ever so slightly and Mari found herself mesmerized.
Mari gaped at him for a moment and then realized he’d asked her a question. “Oh,” she said, feeling a flush on her cheeks. “I am Marigold.”
He gave her a bow. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Marigold.”
“Th-thank you,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper as she clutched the piece of linen in her hand.
“Now, there is still the matter of someone damaging my trap and allowing the bunny to escape.”
