"Oh yes," Ambrose said immediately. "Sasha loves… flowers. Don't you, darling?"
Sasha blinked. "I… do?"
Ambrose glared at her. "You do unless you want to have a conversation about what exactly happened last night in great detail?" He smiled at Lukas. "She can't get enough of them. Roses and… and other flowers. The flowery ones."
Lukas looked amused. "Well, we have plenty of those."
Sasha stuck her tongue out at Ambrose. "It was an accident and it’s not up for discussion, I’m embarrassed enough about it as it is."
Lukas looked confused, but before he could question them, they were joined by another figure emerging from what appeared to be a potting shed: a young woman in practical clothes with soil under her fingernails and an expression of mild exasperation.
"Don't mind me," she said, hoisting a bag of fertilizer onto her shoulder with impressive ease. "Just trying to keep theplace from falling into complete ruin while his young not-quite-lordship entertains another one of his inappropriate girlfriends."
"Cathy," Lukas said mildly.
"What? It's true. Yesterday she asked if we could paint the roses different colors because the red ones don't match her aesthetic." Cathy set down the fertilizer bag and wiped her hands on her trousers. "You must be the fake girlfriend."
"Cathy," Lukas said again, more sharply.
"What? Everyone knows. Well, except Lady Alexandra." Cathy grinned at Sasha. "I'm Cathy Mayer. I keep the actual gardens running while these two moon about looking decorative."
"I don't moon," Lukas protested.
"You absolutely moon," Cathy said. "You just do it very quietly and with excellent posture."
Sasha was beginning to like Cathy immensely. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sasha, and I'm definitely fake."
"Refreshing honesty. I approve." Cathy glanced between Ambrose and Lukas, both of whom were studiously avoiding eye contact while somehow managing to stand closer together than strictly necessary. "Right, well, I'll leave you to the garden tour. Try not to let Ambrose walk into any tree branches while he's staring at Lukas."
She shouldered her fertilizer again and headed off toward the kitchen gardens, calling over her shoulder, "And Lukas, those tomatoes won't stake themselves!"
"She's very… direct," Ambrose said weakly.
"She's practical," Lukas said, and there was affection in his voice. "Her father was head gardener before me. She knows these grounds better than anyone."
As they made their way toward the greenhouses, Sasha found herself genuinely enchanted by the gardens. There was something peaceful about the organized chaos of growingthings, the way different plants seemed to complement each other in ways that looked natural but were clearly carefully planned.
"Your father really does all this?" she asked Ambrose, who was trailing slightly behind, ostensibly to admire the flower borders but more realistically to admire Lukas from behind.
"With help," Lukas answered for him. "Sir Archibald is quite knowledgeable about orchids and roses, but the day-to-day management falls to the staff." He paused by a particularly spectacular climbing rose. "He has excellent instincts, though. Most of the design work is his."
"It's beautiful," Sasha said, and meant it. She'd never paid much attention to gardens before, but there was something about this place that felt almost magical. Everything seemed to belong exactly where it was, from the towering delphiniums to the neat rows of herbs near the kitchen door.
Through the windows of the house, she caught another glimpse of Victoria, still pacing, still gesticulating at her phone. Even from this distance, she could see the tension in Victoria's shoulders, the way she moved.
"Is your sister alright?" she couldn’t help but ask Ambrose. "She seems rather… intense."
"Ugh, Vic's always intense. It's her natural state."
"What exactly does she do?" She was prying, but at least she was trying to do it carefully. And Ambrose was distracted enough by Lukas that she could probably get away with it.
"Something terrifyingly important with other people's money. Investment advice, corporate restructuring, that sort of thing. I don’t understand a word she says about it either. She's brilliant at it, but it does rather consume her entire existence."
They'd reached the first greenhouse, and Lukas held the door open for them. The air inside was humid and fragrant, thick with the smell of earth and growing things. Exotic plants lined thebenches, and Sasha found herself drawn deeper into the space, fascinated by the variety of shapes and colors.
"These are magnificent," she said, pausing beside a display of delicate purple flowers. "What are they?"
"Orchids," Lukas said, moving to stand beside her. "Sir Archibald's passion. This one is a Cattleya, very temperamental. She requires exactly the right temperature, humidity, and light, or she sulks."
