‘No, nothing. I just need to clean a few things up, rearrange the furniture...’
She broke off and looked around at the shabby, outmoded furniture, covertly wiping the spider web on her apron as Sebastian circled the room.
‘The proportions are lovely,’ he said, more to himself than to her.
‘It was the original house, built in the reign of Queen Anne, I believe. Your great-grandfather built the big house sixty years ago to replace it.’
She looked up at the ceiling painted with a mural of Greek Gods, noticing, with annoyance, that here and there the paint had flecked off.
‘It’s old and a little shabby, but I like it.’
He turned around to look at her. ‘Is there anything you want from the big house?’
‘A few pieces of furniture, all of which I brought with me on my marriage. That’s all.’
‘Nothing of sentimental value?’
She shook her head. ‘No. The contents of the big house arefor show, not sentiment. Come into the garden. That’s the heart of this house.’
She threw open the large double doors that opened onto a terrace. Sunlight streamed in and, still holding the doors, she lifted her face up to the sun.
‘What a glorious day,’ she exclaimed.
As they stepped out onto the terrace, Sebastian said, ‘This is charming. Old-fashioned, but perfectly suited to the house. I wouldn’t change a thing.’
She found herself smiling. ‘Really?’
‘Really... Maybe I would strengthen that parterre and perhaps a row of pencil pines against that boundary.’
‘What do you know about gardens?’ she teased as they strolled the overgrown paths.
He shrugged. ‘I understand what works. The gardens of the big house need to be redesigned. They don’t make the most of the view down to the lake.’
‘The lake?’
She looked up at his profile. This man seemed riddled with contradictions; a soldier with the soul of an artist.
Sebastian kicked at a weed. ‘I’ll send some of the gardeners down to help with bringing this garden back into shape.’ He looked sideways at her. ‘Can you spare me some time? I’d like to show you something.’
She glanced back at the house, thinking of all the things she had planned to do that day, and decided a stroll with Sebastian was far more to be preferred. Fetching her bonnet and shawl, she found Sebastian waiting for her on the front steps.
They set off in the direction of the lake. He prowled beside her, reminding her of a cat moving easily on long legs, with only the barest hint of an uneven gait. She cast a furtive look sideways, taking in his profile with the strong nose and sensitive, well-shaped mouth. He had the height and the figure to carry off the high, immaculate stock and cut away jacket. She thought of the strong, well-muscled chest beneath his clothes and for amoment, her wanton imagination took her into the bedchamber.
She shook her head, banishing the wicked thought. She had no right to think such thoughts. Far better to keep their friendship at a distance.
As they walked, he outlined his thoughts about the garden.
‘That sounds grand,’ she said.
He gave a snort of laughter. ‘Just dreams in the air. There are other priorities before I can lavish any money on the garden.’
At the edge of the lake they stopped to admire the vista across to a grove of trees where the dome of a small summerhouse peeked through the surrounding foliage. Isabel sat down on the grass and drew her knees up. Sebastian lowered himself down beside her. He sprawled full length, propped up on his left elbow.
She leaned her chin on her knees. ‘I am terrified of water. I saw a child drowned in Jamaica, and in my nightmares I always imagined the sea as some sort of ravenous beast, pulling innocent children to their death, just as this lake did Amy Thompson.’
‘Even as an adult?’
She nodded. ‘I look at this beautiful lake and imagine it is full of weeds and dead things.’ She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘It’s as if her ghost haunts it.’
