The sightless eyes of his wife.
He let out a groan, bent forward, and opened his eyes, rubbing them to dispel the image. What the devil was happening to him?
He blinked and caught sight of something small and shiny at the base of the longcase clock. He crouched down and retrieved it. A marble. Glancing underneath the clock, he caught sight of another that had rolled further back, too far to reach.
His wife’s chamber door opened, and the young maid emerged. She gave a low cry as she caught sight of him.
“Oh, your lordship, what’s happened?”
He held out the marble.
She stared at it, her eyes widening, then burst into tears again.
“Forgive me—it wasn’t my fault.Please!”
Rising to his feet, Charles brushed the dust from his breeches then waved her away. Would that the Almighty could save him from overly hysterical maids! Mrs. Brougham ought to send the girl packing, or at least keep her away from Olivia.
Olivia…
What the bloody hell was he doing, wallowing in self-pity?
He pocketed the marble then went outside in search of his wife.
Where was she? Had she been foolish enough to venture into the forest again?
He crossed the driveway, his boots crunching on the gravel, then heard male voices coming from the gardens. He set off in the direction of the voices, turned a corner, then froze.
The garden had been transformed. The path that had previously stretched ahead in a straight line now curved from side to side, leading the observer’s eye toward the midpoint where a large armillary sphere stood atop a stone pillar. A box hedge, newly planted, formed a series of arcs, dividing the garden into sections. At the far end of the path, a tall, broad-shouldered man with an unruly mop of brown hair stood, leaning on a shovel, talking to Carlton. He threw back his head and laughed, his breath misting in the winter air. Charles approached them, and the laughter stopped. The man smoothed down the front of his breeches and extended his hand.
“Lawrence Baxter, at your service, Lord Devereaux.”
“Soon to beSirLawrence Baxter, if the rumors are true,” the steward added. “And very well deserved if it happens. The gardens he’s designed are among the best in the kingdom.”
“Mr. Carlton, you’re too kind,” the man said, his voice rich and deep.
Charles cocked his head to one side and regarded the gardener. His body, toned and athletic, was in a relaxed pose, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular arms. Clear hazel eyes stared back at him in a face with strong features and a broad, honest smile.
“Have you heard of Mr. Baxter?” Carlton said. “His wife, Lady Arabella, is a friend of Lady Devereaux’s…well, a friend of her sister’s.”
“Delighted to meet you at last, Lord Devereaux,” Baxter said. “You’re fortunate in your choice of wife. Her ladyship has a most extraordinary imagination, and it’s been a privilege to bring her ideas to life.”
What the bloody hell was the man rattling on about? Charles raised his eyebrows and glanced at his steward, who cleared his throat with some degree of trepidation.
“Ahem—I fear Lord Devereaux has been unaware of her ladyship’s activities while he’s been in London.”
“Oh, lorks!” the gardener said. “Have I spoiled her ladyship’s surprise? My Bella would have my ballocks if she knew. Chews them up something proper when I’ve done wrong. Mind you, she thinks up the most delicious penances and can be very forgiving when I…” He hesitated, his cheeks coloring. “Never mind that—I trust you’ll forgive the words of a man who’s been parted from his wife for too long. But you’ll know how that feels, won’t you, Lord Devereaux?”
Yes. Charles knew exactly how it felt, though doubtless Baxter wouldn’t make an arse of himself when he reunited with his wife.
“Shall I show you around?” the gardener said. “There’s just the hedging to finish, then we’re done. Lady Devereaux was most anxious for it to be ready for your arrival.”
He gestured about the garden. “We’ve divided the area into sections, each focusing on a sense—touch, taste, and so forth. This one”—he indicated the first section—“is for the eyes, for when one is in need of color to uplift the spirits. Lady Devereaux calls it the Rainbow Garden. I’m afraid it doesn’t look like much just now, but come the spring, these shrubs will fill it with myriad colors. My Bella has designed the color scheme, and the seeds I’ve given your men to cultivate will yield flowering plants to fill the gaps.”
My men?Charles raised his eyebrows.
“Lady Devereaux has hired two gardeners,” Carlton said.
Charles stared at the steward. How could the estate afford the expense?
