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Livia stepped closer, her mild pleasure in reconnecting with Robbie replaced with a tingle of curiosity.

“You know something,” she breathed.

Robbie froze, as if realizing he’d said more than he should have. “Nah. What could I know? I’m just the gardener.”

She clicked her tongue. “You don’t fool me, Robbie Broussard. Share.”

He pretended to consider her demand before he chuckled. “Okay, okay.” He motioned for her to step closer. “I’ve done quite a bit of work at the Durand estate since Winston took over from his father. He had the back patio refurbished and tore out the old pool to replace it with a pond. And during the three or four months I was working there he had at least a dozen different women staying with him. Sometimes more than one.”

Livia wasn’t surprised. Winston had the vibe of a man who enjoyed women. The more the better.

“Sowing his wild oats?” she asked.

“And then some.” Robbie nodded toward Celeste, who was still posing for the photographer. “In fact he was still sowing those oats right up to the night he was seen holding hands with your cousin at the country club gala.” He lowered his voice another notch. “I know for a fact he’d just flown back from Monte Carlo that morning with a swimsuit model who was still at his house. I was trimming the hedges in the backyard when I saw her sunbathing by the newly finished pond.”

“He does enjoy collecting pretty women,” she agreed, recalling her stroll behind the Durand estate. “Have you seen his nurse?”

“Tara Warner? Yeah, the town was buzzing after Winston hired her.”

“I’m surprised that Celeste tolerates having her under his roof.” Livia glanced toward her cousin. “She’s never been one to allow competition. When we were young my grandfather bought me a fancy dress to wear when I spent the summer. We had dinner one night at the country club and a creepy old man said I looked like a princess. The next morning I woke up to find the dress cut into a dozen ribbons and tossed on my bed.”

“Sounds like Celeste,” Robbie agreed. “But when it comes to Winston she might not have any choice.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I shouldn’t gossip about my clients. Kim tells me it’s a bad habit,” Robbie muttered.

“Trust me, no one here has any intention of noticing that I exist. You can tell me anything and it’s not going be repeated.”

Robbie’s brief wariness melted away. They’d shared a childhood where they’d both been outsiders at the Willows. He knew she was the one Benoit who could be trusted.

“You know Winston casually dated Celeste over the years.” He waited for her nod. “I overheard him telling his dad that your aunt and uncle were dangling Celeste like a baited hook in an attempt to land a rich husband. He also said that he didn’t mind having her in his bed, but that he would rather be castrated than have the Benoit clan permanently clinging to him like a bunch of leeches.”

“Castrated?” Livia made a face. “Strong words from someone who struts around like an alpha male. I wonder what made him change his mind.”

“I suppose people change. But it does seem weird.”

“Very weird.”

Livia mulled over what Robbie had told her. She didn’t doubt for a second that her aunt and uncle would angle to get the biggest bang for their buck when it came to Celeste. After all, she was beautiful, well connected, and willing to play the role of happy homemaker. The perfect partner for a man in search of a trophy wife.

She also understood Winston’s reluctance to spend the rest of his life supporting the Benoits in the style they were accustomed to enjoying.

What baffled her was why Winston would have gone from calling Celeste a leech to putting a ring on her finger. It had to be a powerful incentive.

Or threat …

Did Adrian have something on the younger man? Had he blackmailed Winston into proposing?

It would explain so many things.

“Speaking of castration …” Robbie cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “That’s what is gonna happen to me if Kim finds out I’m revealing secrets about my clients.”

Livia managed a smile as Robbie straightened from the column, as if he was preparing to move on.

“No worries,” she assured him, resisting the urge to ask if they could get together later. She sensed he already regretted sharing what he’d overheard. Then she was struck with a sudden inspiration. “Is your dad still in the area?”

“He is. Still living in the same old house behind the bakery. I’ve tried a dozen times to get him to move to a new home. I even offered to build onto our place after my mom passed a few years ago. He refuses to budge.” Robbie rolled his eyes. “He says he likes the smell of baking bread early in the morning.”