"Go rescue your boyfriend from making a complete fool of himself? Yes, probably wise."
She fled the greenhouse, leaving Sir Archibald chuckling among his orchids.
"WE NEED TO talk," Sasha announced, marching up to Ambrose with the sort of determination that came from three sleepless nights and too many gardening metaphors. Honestly, this was all starting to be less of a holiday and more like some sort of torture camp.
"Good morning to you too," Ambrose said, attempting to smooth down his hair. "Lovely day, isn't it? Very… educational."
Lukas had the grace to look embarrassed. "I should get back to the roses," he said, disappearing in the direction of the formal gardens with impressive speed.
"Educational?" Sasha raised an eyebrow
"He was showing me proper tool maintenance," Ambrose said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Very important to keep your equipment in good working order."
Sasha ignored the innuendo. "I'm sure it is." She grabbed his arm. "We need to talk. Now."
She dragged him toward a bench hidden behind the rose garden, safely out of sight of the house windows.
"Right," she said, settling beside him. "I need to tell you something."
"If it's about the fact that you've been staring at my sister like she's the last chocolate in the box, I'm already aware."
Sasha felt heat flood her cheeks. "It's not—I haven't been—"
"Sash. Yesterday at lunch you forgot to eat because you were too busy watching her argue with Georgina about heritage buildings. The day before that, you nearly walked into the stream because she was reading on the terrace."
"Bollocks."
"You can barely take your eyes off her."
"I might," Sasha said carefully, "be developing a slight crush on your sister."
Ambrose snorted. "Might?"
"Alright, fine. I'm completely gone on her. Are you happy now?"
"Ecstatic," Ambrose said dryly. "Nothing I love more than watching my best friend fall for someone who's completely off-limits. Like my older sister. This isn’t one of those ratty books you borrow from the library that have all their pages stuck together, you know."
"Listen," Sasha said. "This whole situation is getting out of hand. Maybe we should call it quits, tell your grandmother the truth—"
"No." Ambrose's voice was sharp. "Absolutely not. We agreed to see this through to the house party."
"But—"
"But nothing. Look, after this holiday, you'll have complete free rein to do whatever you want. Pursue my sister, elope to Scotland, whatever makes you happy. But right now, for just a few more days, can you please keep it in your pants?"
Sasha stared at him. "Keep it in my pants?"
"You know what I mean."
"Do I? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've been doing quite a bit of your own pursuing. Tool maintenance, Ambrose? Really?"
"That's completely different."
"How is it different?"
"Because Lukas isn't—" Ambrose stopped abruptly.
"Isn't what? Isn't your sister? Isn't someone your family would disapprove of? Isn't someone who might complicate your perfect good-boy holiday?"
