“Lady Devereaux! A pleasure to see you, as usual.”
“And you, Mr. Baxter,” Olivia said. “I trust you’re not working too hard.”
“Ah, that’s where I’m fortunate, ma’am, given that I see my occupation as more enjoyment than work. This particular assignment has been more enjoyable than most.”
“Mr. Baxter, I fear you’re attempting flattery.”
“My Bella would say the same, Lady Devereaux. Most of my clients demand a formal style, where every hedge is clipped into obedience to suit their tastes. My better clients prefer a naturalistic style, where the garden reflects the world around us. But they all pale in comparison to one such as yourself.”
Olivia winced. Surely he wasn’t referring to her birth?
“One such as myself?” she said.
“Someone with your vision, Lady Devereaux. Your idea for designing a garden that appeals to all the senses, not just aesthetics, is something I’ve long wished to put into being.”
“All the senses?” Nicola said. “What do you mean?”
“The garden’s going to appeal to every sense,” Olivia said. “Even sound. Mr. Baxter has had some special items made that produce music in the wind. They’re used in the Far East. Eleanor told me about them—her father brought some back from one of his business journeys. What are they called again?”
“Wind chimes,” Baxter said, smiling. He settled his gaze on Nicola and raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, forgive me,” Olivia said. “Mr. Baxter, this is Miss Faulkes. Nicola, this is Mr. Baxter, a man who performs miracles in the garden with wind chimes.”
“The miracle was your imagination, Lady Devereaux,” Baxter said. “I merely put it into being.”
“Together with your wife,” Olivia said. “I trust Bella will receive her share of the credit.” She turned to Nicola. “Lady Arabella sketched all the designs for the garden.”
“LadyArabella?” Nicola said. “Then how come you’re onlyMr.Baxter?”
“My Bella’s a duke’s daughter,” Baxter said, “though you wouldn’t know it, seeing as she lacks the airs that most ladies have—and thank the Almighty for that, is all I have to say.”
“Oh,” Nicola said. “She’s like Olivia.”
Olivia flinched at her friend’s reference to her birth. Would she never be free from the stain?
Baxter’s eyes narrowed. “My wife is Lady Arabella and not Lady Baxter, because I have no title. But I fail to see why that should be something worth noting. Too many of us consider the possession of a title or the circumstances of one’s birth to be the only factor that defines a person’s worth. But I assure you, Miss Faulkes, birth only defines a person’s position in society. It does not define their character.”
Nicola’s expression hardened and Olivia caught a flash of malevolence in her eyes. Then, in a heartbeat, it disappeared and she smiled.
“Jacob!” she cried. “I’ve not seen you for days. I was beginning to wonder whether you’d forsaken me.”
Jacob approached them, shovel in hand. “That’s the last of the sweet cherries in now, Mr. Baxter. I must say, they don’t look like much.”
“They never do when first planted,” Baxter said. “But come the spring you’ll see the blossom and understand why I chose them. It may take a year or two before it yields any fruit—or at least enough for one of Lady Devereaux’s pies.” He winked at Olivia. “My Bella tells me you’re a miracle worker yourself in the kitchen. She says your shortbread is the finest she’s ever tasted.”
“Then I must give you some to take home when you’re finished here,” Olivia said. “Perhaps you’d take a piece now? We’re having tea at four.”
“No—best I get on while we still have the light. The nights are drawing in right quickly now winter’s on its way. I want to get those herbs in before I finish today.”
“What about you, Jacob?” Nicola said, an undertone of desperation in her voice. “Will you join us for tea?”
“I’d better help Mr. Baxter.”
Olivia’s heart ached at the hurt in Nicola’s eyes. “Surely a little tea wouldn’t hurt?” she said. “You’ve been working hard all day, and Nicola hasn’t seen you for days. You’ve been neglecting her.”
“Oh, very well.” Jacob offered his arm, and Nicola slid her hand around it in a possessive grip. Baxter watched, his eyes narrowing.
“You must join us now, Mr. Baxter,” Olivia said. “Just for a little while. In return, I’ll help you plant the herbs after tea.”
