"Running away from the house?" He smiled, and it transformed his usually gruff face entirely. "Can't say I blame you. Place gets rather overwhelming when everyone's milling about with their dramas and complications."
"It's very peaceful in here," Sasha offered diplomatically.
"Mmm. Plants don't argue." He moved to a workbench covered in small pots. "They just grow if you treat them right and die if you don't. Refreshingly honest, really."
Sasha found herself moving closer, drawn by his obvious affection for the plants surrounding them. "What are you working on?"
"Orchid propagation. Delicate business, but worth it when you get it right." He held up a tiny cutting. "This little fellow's been giving me trouble for weeks. Particular about his conditions, aren't you, old boy?"
"How can you tell?"
"Look at the roots. See how they're pale and spindly? He's not happy where he is." Sir Archibald potted the cutting with gentle hands. "Sometimes plants need a change of environment to really thrive. Different soil, different light, different companions."
He glanced meaningfully toward the house, where Victoria was visible through the morning room windows, up now and already at her laptop.
"Some plants," he continued thoughtfully, "grow beautifully together. Complement each other, you might say. While others…" He nodded toward another window, where Archie could be seen having what appeared to be an animated phone conversation. "Others insist on trying to grow in completely unsuitable conditions."
Sasha felt heat creep up her neck. "Sir Archibald…"
"Plants that belong together naturally tend to find each other eventually," he said, apparently addressing his orchid but looking directly at Victoria through the glass. "Soil conditions permitting, of course."
"Right," Sasha said weakly. "Soil conditions." This wasn’t exactly the kind of advice she’d been in need of.
"Exactly. Wouldn't want to transplant something into hostile ground." He moved to another bench, where delicate seedlings stretched toward the light. "Though sometimes what looks like hostile ground is just… unprepared. Needs a bit of tending before it's ready for new growth."
This was possibly the most surreal conversation of Sasha's life.
"These are lovely," she said desperately, gesturing to a row of what looked like baby tomato plants.
"Ah yes, Cathy's project. She's got an excellent eye for what will thrive where." Sir Archibald's voice warmed with obvious approval. "Knows instinctively which plants need moreattention and which ones are hardy enough to manage on their own."
"She's been very patient with me," Sasha said. "Teaching me about the gardens."
"Has she mentioned companion planting?"
"Um. Yes?"
"Fascinating concept. Some plants grow better when they're paired with the right partner. Bring out the best in each other, you might say." He pruned a wayward stem with surgical precision. "Of course, timing is everything. Plant too early and the conditions aren't right. Too late, and you've missed the growing season entirely."
Sasha was beginning to suspect that Sir Archibald was not, in fact, talking about plants.
"The trick," he continued, apparently warming to his theme, "is recognizing when the conditions are right for transplanting. When the soil is prepared, when there's adequate light, when both plants are ready to adapt to new circumstances."
Sasha wondered how she was going to escape this conversation without looking terribly rude.
"Of course," Sir Archibald added with studied casualness, "some gardeners are so focused on maintaining perfect growing conditions that they forget plants are actually quite resilient. Capable of adapting to new environments if they're given the chance."
"Right," Sasha managed. "Resilient."
"Exactly. Often it's the gardener who needs to change, not the garden." He set down his pruning shears and fixed her with a direct look. "Would you like to learn about propagation? It's all about encouraging new growth from existing root systems."
Before Sasha could decide whether accepting gardening lessons from her fake boyfriend's father while he made barely-disguised romantic metaphors was a good idea or a terrible one, movement outside caught her attention.
Ambrose and Lukas were emerging from what appeared to be the tool shed, both looking suspiciously undone. Ambrose's hair was sticking up at odd angles, Lukas's shirt was untucked, and they were standing just slightly too close together while trying to look like they'd been discussing fertilizer or hedge trimming or other innocent gardening matters.
"Ah," Sir Archibald said mildly, following her gaze.
"I should probably…" Sasha began.
