"Right, yes, teamwork. Very important in… rose situations."
Sasha exchanged a look with Cathy, who was clearly trying not to laugh.
They disappeared off and Sasha straightened, stretching her back. "I’m going to get some water."
As Sasha made her way over to the roses, she caught sight of Sophie emerging from behind the greenhouse, moving with the sort of careful stealth that suggested she didn't want to be seen. When she spotted Sasha, she quickly hid something behind her back.
"Morning, Sophie," Sasha said casually, pretending not to notice the obvious concealment.
"Oh, hello," Sophie said, a bit too brightly. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"
"Gorgeous. What are you up to?"
"Nothing much. Just… exploring. You know how it is."
Sasha didn't push, but she filed the interaction away for future consideration. Sophie was definitely up to something, and whatever it was, it involved sneaking around with mysterious objects.
"Have you heard the news?" Sophie continued, clearly eager to change the subject.
"What news?"
"Tiffany's gone. Left this morning in a taxi, taking half the breakfast pastries with her." Sophie's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Archie's devastated, naturally."
"What happened?"
"Oh, the usual. She wanted to redecorate the library to make it more 'photogenic,' and Grandmother made some pointed observations about the sanctity of literary spaces. There may have been words about 'vapid modernization' and 'intellectual vandalism.'"
Sasha winced. "Ouch."
"Quite. Though between you and me, I think Cathy's relieved. She's been watching Archie parade inappropriate women through here for years."
Sasha glanced back at Cathy, who was now pretending to be very interested in a row of lettuce. There was something in her posture, a careful neutrality that suggested Sophie had hit close to home.
"Don't worry," Sophie continued cheerfully. "He'll have a replacement by tonight at the latest. Archie can't stand being single for more than five minutes. He’s so desperate to getmarried and prove himself a good heir that he won’t leave the seat next to him empty for a second."
"Right," Sasha said, still watching Cathy. "I'm sure he’ll find a willing victim."
THE REST OF the day passed in similar fashion: Sasha learning the names of plants and the art of proper watering, Ambrose finding increasingly creative reasons to work within sight of Lukas, and the general rhythm of estate life continuing around them. It was tiring, but in a nice way. Not her usual sort of vacation, but Sasha didn’t find herself missing cheap cocktails on a crowded beach one bit.
As the afternoon drew on, Sasha was dreading the thought of another night in Victoria's room. The day bed wasn't the problem, she'd slept on worse. The problem was Victoria herself, all that contained energy and professional composure, and the way she'd looked at Sasha that morning like she was… interested.
And Sasha was starting to think she might be interesting. And interested, for that matter.
She was helping Cathy put away tools when Victoria appeared on the terrace, and Sasha felt her pulse quicken at the sight of her. Victoria was wearing a simple summer dress that made her look softer somehow, less armored.
"Right," Cathy said, following Sasha's gaze. "I'm thinking tonight might be even more challenging than last night. You can always shack up in one of the greenhouses, if you like?"
Sasha sighed and shook her head, gathering up the last of the plant ties. Another night of listening to Victoria breathe, of being hyperaware of every sound and movement, of lying awake wanting things she had no business wanting.
Because the truth was, she'd much rather be in Victoria's bed than on the day bed beside it.
Chapter Eleven
Sharing a room with someone you were desperately trying not to think about, Victoria discovered, made concentrating on anything else virtually impossible.
She'd claimed the morning room again, laptop open, phone charged, and three different recruitment websites open. Everything she needed to conduct the sort of intensive job hunting that would salvage her career and restore her dignity. What she didn't need was the lingering scent of Sasha's perfume on her pillowcase, or the memory of soft breathing from the day bed, or the way Sasha had looked that morning with her hair mussed from sleep and her nightdress slightly rumpled.
Focus, she told herself sternly. Career. Future. Very important things that had nothing to do with the way Sasha's mouth curved when she smiled.
