“Hopefully you’ll know before you say the vows.”
Violet sighed. “I doubt that will be the case. I’ve yet to be courted, except by you. However, I will call upon your friendship when the time is at hand and seek the truth from you.” She looked up into his eyes. “I do trust that you’d be honest of a gentleman’s character, Lord Ferrard.”
Chapter 24
“Yes,I will be honest in my assessment,” he assured her, yet the very idea of Violet marrying anyone was quite irritating. Further, he could think of no gentleman of his acquaintance who could come close to appreciating her. Of being worthy of her. In fact, he was willing to wager that many would be intimidated. Not only was she not prone to vapors or fainting, thank God, but she was sensible and pragmatic. Most gentlemen assumed that ladies, especially wives, would need guidance and to be cared for and sheltered, and wrapped in wool for protection. Violet needed none of that, other than perhaps protection, as she was a female, thus physically weaker.
They came to a pause before the wooden hive boxes. There were nearly two dozen.
“Do bees hibernate inside?” he asked.
“Only bumble bees and wasps hibernate. Honeybees remain active, though inside the hive where it is warm, which is why not all honey is taken at harvest.”
“I’ve never given much thought to bees or honey,” he admitted.
“Unless your cook complains there is none,” Violet offered.
“She’d complain to my mother. I’d not hear of it.” It was probably one of many things that gentlemen took for granted, but the lady of the house would be aware if there was none to be had for recipes.
“I get great satisfaction from providing the hives, growing the flowers over the estate that will provide nectar, and reaping the benefits of the bees’ work.” With a deep breath, she turned to him. “If it is your wish, I will fulfill the agreement of our courtship.”
Why did she behave as if it was an obligation that she must endure? He’d explained about the widow, and she had believed him, so why was she so distant from him now.
These past few days had been enjoyable and they had become friends, yet her manner toward him was the same as the first day they’d met. “You speak as if it is an obligation that you wished you’d not made.”
“I apologize. Agreement, obligation, bargain, they are interchangeable, are they not? And, we had made an agreement, and it was wrong of me to end it because of what I’d seen without speaking with you first.”
“It is a misunderstanding that has been put aside,” he offered. Perhaps she didn’t trust him. Or, it had upset her enough that it wasn’t something quickly set aside, even though the misunderstanding had been acknowledged.
“How large are these gardens?” Emory wanted to change the conversation from her marrying someone who was not him.
“That would depend on one’s perspective. Not nearly as large as Kew, but it is not so small either.” She held her arms out. “These are the private gardens of Forester Park. My family has visited, but guests have not. You are the first to be allowed.”
Emory would feel honored to be her first guest, except she hadn’t exactly invited him. He’d come seeking her out.
“If you’d like, I can show you my favorite place to read, when the weather is conducive to such an activity.”
“Yes, please.” Even though he hadn’t been invited into her private sanctum, it pleased him that Violet still wished to share it with him. As if revealing a piece of herself that nobody else would ever see. Though, one day a husband would enjoy her secrets.
Emory terminated his line of thought. He’d not think of Violet married.
“This way.”
She turned and Emory followed her down a winding path.
He didn’t want to think about another gentleman learning her secrets when Emory did not yet know them all. He’d not had nearly enough time to come to know her as he wished. Except, he’d never learn everything, as he would not be her husband.
At that one simple thought, disappointment as he’d never experienced in his life shot through Emory’s being.
It was quickly followed by the question of why couldn’t he be her husband? Yes, this started as a courtship of convenience, but it had turned into so much more. Friendship to begin with, and his desire to kiss her. Further, he was never bored, but excited to see her.
He was smitten with Lady Violet Claxton.
Just because their courtship was to end in a few days, didn’t mean that he couldn’t ask for it to be extended, until he might win her heart.
“Here we are.” Violet had stopped at the entry into a small gazebo. It wasn’t quite what Emory had expected, but as he took in the square seating area, lined with cushioned seats covered in various shades of blues, lavenders, greens, and yellow, he was simply enchanted. No gazebo of his memory had ever contained so much color. There was nothing simple about Violet’s favorite reading space, nor was it as open as all other gazebos, as each side, with the exception of the entrance, was covered by lattice where dormant vines had climbed up and over the roof. When the foliage was full, it was likely that no sun penetrated the interior, which might explain the oil sconces on each pillar inside.
“What kind of vines surround this?”
