"Perhaps not." His ears went slightly pink, which was oddly endearing. "Your brother is… he's remarkable. Kind and funny, and he actually listens when I talk about soil pH levels and planting, which shouldn't be attractive but is."
"You and Ambrose." It wasn't a question. She'd have to be blind not to have noticed the way they looked at each other, the way they found excuses to work together.
"Me and Ambrose." Lukas met her eyes steadily, no apology in his expression. "Though I don't imagine you're shocked. We haven't exactly been subtle."
"Not remotely. He's been staring at you like you hung the moon since we arrived. It's actually been a bit nauseating." Victoria paused, something twisting in her chest. "Does it bother you? The different backgrounds thing? The whole son-of-the-house and head-gardener situation?"
"Should it?"
"I don't know. Shouldn't it?" She heard the edge in her own voice. "The class difference, the money, the expectations. It's not exactly straightforward, is it?"
Lukas was quiet for a moment, watching her with those perceptive eyes. "Life would be very boring if we only became close to people exactly like us," he said carefully. "Same background, same income, same education, same everything.What would be the point of that? Just two people agreeing with each other all the time?"
"Compatibility. Shared values. Understanding each other's worlds."
"Or fear." He stood, brushing soil from his trousers with efficient movements. "Sometimes I think people use 'compatibility' as an excuse not to risk anything real. Not to let anyone see them properly. Not to be vulnerable." He nodded toward the gardens where Sasha was working with Cathy, both of them laughing about something. "Just something to consider."
He left her sitting there, his words settling uncomfortably somewhere behind her ribs.
Fear. Was that what this was? Was she using logic and practicality as shields against something that terrified her more than redundancy ever had?
Victoria looked at her phone again. Still nothing. She wanted that job. Needed it, really. What was she without her career? Without the structure and purpose and validation that came from being good at something?
But she also wanted… what? Sasha? A relationship that made no practical sense? A summer romance that could never survive contact with real life?
She didn't know anymore, and that uncertainty was perhaps the most frightening thing of all.
WHEN DINNER TIME came around, the atmosphere at the table was strange. Archie was subdued, the chair next to him at the table empty. Ambrose was mooning in a way that suggested he and Lukas had definitely had a conversation of their own. Possibly several conversations, possibly involving significantly more than talking.
And Sasha was being perfectly pleasant while somehow managing to not quite meet Victoria's eyes for longer than absolutely necessary.
"More wine, darling?" her mother asked, and Victoria realized her glass was somehow empty. When had she drunk all that?
"Please."
"Are you feeling alright?" Lady Charlotte's gaze was shrewd. "You seem distracted."
"Just tired. Work stress." The lie came automatically, smoothly honed by practice.
"Mmm." Her mother didn't look convinced but didn’t push. "Well, don't overdo it, dear. Even you need rest occasionally."
Sophie was picking at her food, pushing vegetables around her plate without actually eating anything. Not unusual for a fifteen-year-old, but there were fresh scratches on her arms that definitely were unusual. Long, parallel lines that looked suspiciously like…
"Sophie, what happened to your arms?" Lady Charlotte had noticed too, her maternal radar apparently more functional than Victoria's.
"Nothing. Just… gardening accident." Sophie pulled her sleeves down quickly, but not before Victoria got a good look. Those were definitely not plant scratches. "Thorns. From the roses."
"Those don't look like thorn scratches," their father observed. "Too uniform. Too parallel."
"Well they are." Sophie's voice went up half an octave, defensive. "Can we please talk about something else? Like literally anything else?"
Lady Alexandra sneezed delicately into her napkin. Then again. Then a third time with increasing violence.
"Bless you, Mama," Lady Charlotte said.
"Thank you. I can't imagine what's causing this." Lady Alexandra dabbed at her nose. "It's been going on all week."
Sophie went very still, her face carefully blank in a way that screamed guilt to anyone paying attention.
