Both maids remained silent, seeming to have just decided they had already said too much. Instead of speaking any further, one opened the door and led Hope into a beautiful room while the other added more wood to the fire.
Hope had a mind to continue her questioning, but the inquiring words were stolen right from her mouth as her eyes drank in the bedchamber. Her mouth fell open.
The room was vast and bright with papered walls depicting a delicate pink rose motif against a green background that encircled the room as if she were in her own secret garden. White crown molding topped the walls, and a pale blue sky with white clouds had been painted on the ceiling. Heavy dark furniture paired nicely with the pale green curtains and matching bed linens laid on a massive four-post bed square in the middle of the room. To the right of the bed was a set of windows opened onto a stone balcony. An abundant white climbing rose had crawled up the balcony, covered in dozens of blooms that grew all around the window.
It was gorgeous. So much so that Hope was taken aback.
“Oh my,” she said, going to the window.
A garden, more beautiful than any she had ever seen, expanded out from beneath the shallow balcony. Her eyes went immediately to the white roses wrapped around the stonework. The tops of several blooming fruit trees peeped out from behind the balustrades. Hope had nearly made it to the open French doors when a maid crossed into her path, blocking her way.
“Ack, there’s no time for that,” the maid said, pointing to a large brass tub in front of the fireplace. Steam curled from the hot water that had been poured into it. “Bath first.”
“May I ask your name?” Hope asked as the pushy woman turned her about and began undressing her.
“Una,” she said as Hope’s dress fell to the floor. Una nodded to the other maid. “This is my sister, Rebecca. Come now.”
Hope was unceremoniously washed as her travel dress was taken away, and her other clothing was pulled from her valise to be aired out and then put away. She had wanted to dress immediately, but Una insisted she rest.
“But I’m not tired,” she protested, far too interested in exploring her new home to sleep.
“Ochs, all ladies would be tired after journeying here, considering that last push from Cumbria,” Una said. “Now rest, and we’ll be up to ready you for dinner in two hours.”
At the click of the door, Hope was left alone.
“Umph,” she said as she wrapped a green silk robe around her night rail. Going to the window where the white roses hung, she stepped out on the balcony and glanced over the garden.
It was a lovely landscape. A prettier picture she had never seen. Her eyes drifted over the greenery below. The fog seemed unable to touch the ground here, seeing as the world beyond the stone wall was still draped in a thick mist.
To her left, a narrow set of stone steps was hidden behind the large rose bush that grew up to her window. She guessed it must be an ancient plant, considering how tall it had grown and how thick the branches were. She peered down to the grounds below. She wondered if it wasn’t the best idea to go down dressed in only her robe and night clothes, but then it was a walled garden. It was meant to be enjoyed by the residents. Besides, the only people who would see her would be the servants and perhaps Lady Belle or her sisters.
She cautiously climbed down the staircase and came around the base of the rose bush. A swath of lavender, heather, and other tall grasses had been planted together, and Hope inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent. Tiny white flowersspread out from beneath the heather, and she fingered the tall, ornament grasses as she strolled deeper into the garden.
A large pond fed by a stream carved beneath the wall was covered in lily pads and beautiful white and pink blooms. It was enchanting and yet, she had the oddest impression that she wasn’t supposed to be here.
Suddenly, movement against the stone wall caught her attention. The overhanging ivy that covered the wall seemed to shake and what appeared to be a secret door, previously hidden behind the vines, was pushed open. In the next instant, a man of considerable size came into the garden.
Frightened, Hope leaped behind a tall, green topiary cut into a fleur-de-lis shape. She waited to see if the man would pass without seeing her, but for a long while, she could hear no movement at all. Confused, she peered over the branch and saw him, arms folded, staring up into the apple tree. He seemed deep in contemplation, and her fear that he was an intruder subsided. It was obvious that he knew this garden well.
His long arm reached over his head and plucked a nearly spent bud. Bringing it down, he twirled it between his fingers. Hope had never been one for spying, but this man was certainly interesting. He was tall and square-jawed, with auburn hair a touch longer than was fashionable. His tweed jacket and matching pants reminded Hope of the latest hunting styles that were quite popular with the aristocracy.
This man, whoever he was, was handsome in a rather brutal way, but the weight he seemed to hold on his shoulders spoke loudest to Hope. He seemed burdened, and she was pondering on her urge to touch his shoulders and soothe his contemplativeness when the branch she was leaning on snapped.
Hope stumbled forward and elevated her gaze. The man was surprised, but also appeared rather confused as he tilted hishead and came forward. Hope clasped her robe at the neck and took a step back.
“Stay away,” she said, prompting him to stop. “Come no further.”
Recognition flooded his face as he heard her speak. He looked her up and down with what seemed like disgust. She supposed he was one of those Scots who loathed the English. Still, she held her head up high.
“Ah,” he began, sounding unimpressed. “One of Lady Belle's nieces, I presume.”
“I am,” she said, lifting her chin. “Miss Hope Sharpe. And you are?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and a tingly sensation swept over her body. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as his eyes swept over her once more. He took another step forward, and she took another step back.
“You’re Miss Hope Sharpe?” he asked suspiciously.
“Yes, I am,” she said, her tone slightly higher than usual. “Andyouare?”
