Morgan jolted for he realized that the head gardener was at his elbow and had said his name more than once. He turned to face the older man with a contrite nod. “I was woolgathering, Mr. Lancaster, I apologize. What do you need?”
Lancaster stretched his back and watched the men work for a moment. “It will be a fine building when it’s finished.”
“Indeed,” Morgan said.
He had been uncertain about Lancaster’s feelings toward him since he had swept in and taken charge of a project in the garden the man had tended for decades, but the gardener had not been anything but polite and helpful. The entire staff was, in truth. He felt welcomed by them, though he wasn’t entirely in their society. Just as he wasn’t entirely in the society of the duke and his family.
He was stuck in between. And that was…isolating.
Lancaster said, “Now that the lads have begun their work, I wondered if you might join me a moment? I have a question about an area in the garden that hasn’t been discussed yet.”
“Of course,” Morgan said. He followed Lancaster down the twisting paths, and finally they reached a little area in a corner of the garden. It was brown and dead, old vines twisting against the ground and brittle bushes shedding leaves and sticks across the grass.
“Oh,” Morgan said. “I’m shocked a change to this part of the garden wasn’t in Lady Elizabeth’s plans.”
“Since she’s following the last duchess’s sketches, I suppose it wouldn’t be,” Lancaster said with a sad frown. “There was a deep frost that lasted too long a few years back. We covered most of the plants, but these got forgotten somehow and died. Still, since we’re doing so much work, I wondered if you had a thought about this place?”
“You want my opinion?” Morgan asked. “You certainly know more about every leaf in this place than I could ever hope to.”
Lancaster smiled at him. “Perhaps that’s true. Perhaps that’s why I want your opinion. Sometimes fresh eyes are the brightest. You have good instincts, Mr. Banfield.”
Morgan tried to ignore the way his chest puffed up with unexpected pride. He rubbed his chin. It was a pretty little corner of the estate grounds, to be certain. A great many guestrooms looked out over it, if his judgment of the layout of the chambers above him was correct. So it needed to be special. And since this area didn’t fall into Elizabeth’s strict adherence to her mother’s plans, he also felt he might have a bit more leeway in design.
Just months ago, he might have scoffed at that idea. But since his arrival here, he’d come to—and he couldn’t believe he was admitting this, even to himself—likehis work in the garden. He liked working with the living things, liked the smells of the grass and the flowers and the trees. He liked creating something that would last for more than just a few hours. Something that would change and grow of its own accord.
“If she’s not considered this area, perhaps this is a chance for us to do something special for Lady Elizabeth,” he mused. “Make this a surprise for her.”
Lancaster nodded, and Morgan could see he liked the idea. If the servants accepted Morgan, they adored Elizabeth. Her name was said in hushed reverence and he was certain at least three footmen were half in love with her. How could they not be?
“What do you have in mind?” Lancaster asked.
Morgan shut his eyes, drawing out what this corner could be in a few broad strokes. And connecting it to Elizabeth, as well. When he thought of her, the scent of her skin was one thing that sparked his memories, and he smiled as he looked at the older man again.
“Do we have access to orange trees?” he asked.
The corner of Lancaster’s mouth quirked up. “I think it can be arranged.”
“Good,” Morgan said, stepping forward and sweeping his arm in a semicircle along the wall. “I think we could plant them here. And then let’s talk about a fountain…”
Lancaster pulled out a small notebook and began scribbling as Morgan lost himself in something he never would have guessed could draw his attention. Not just the garden, but the woman who had inspired such a change, and such a desire to create something as a gift for her. He only hoped she’d like it when it was finished.
And that he wouldn’t reveal too much of himself while he was making something that was just for her.
Lizzie stared into her teacup, her mind leagues away from the parlor. It had been three days since that searing kiss with Morgan in the library. She’d tried to minimize it, but she couldn’t lie and say something like that didn’t matter. She’d tried to forget it, but that was impossible too. She still sometimes tasted Morgan’s lips on hers. Being in the same house as he was made it impossible to just lock that memory away.
And so she was left with the thoughts and the distraction and the questions that hatched in her mind. How had they come to this? Would he ever do that again? Did she want him to?
“Do you want to, Lizzie?”
She blinked as Charlotte repeated the very question in her own mind. When she looked up, she found Amelia, Katherine and Charlotte all staring at her with equal expressions of concern and expectation. Her distraction had yet again caused her trouble.
She forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I have such a flighty mind as of late. What are you asking me?”
“We were speaking about London,” Katherine said, tilting her head as if to examine Lizzie more closely.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “Amelia was talking about getting all the duchesses together and having a private showing of Madame Lorraine’s newest fashions for winter. Do you want to be part of that?”
Lizzie shifted. “Madame Lorraine does make the most beautiful clothing, but…”
