Read Online Royally Seduced by Marie Donovan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marie Donovan
Ads: Link
it?”
Jack slowly nodded. “ Oui, I suppose it does. Sometimes I would bribe my tentmates to go to the mess hall for an extra hour so I could be alone.”
“And you came down here for some vine-ripened aromatherapy. All you have to do is open your window and you get a snootful of soothing lavender scent.”
He laughed. “But Lily, this is not true lavender here. This is lavandin, a hybrid that is more suited to homemade candles and laundry soap. In fact, the word lavender comes from the Latin word ‘to wash.’ I will show you the true lavender, like I am showing you the true France.”
“And I appreciate you doing this for me, Jack.”
But he was already shaking his head. “No, no appreciation necessary for me. If you see the real country, your articles will be strong and authentic, better for your career.”
“How nice.” He was thinking of her writing career? That was even more touching. On one hand, she was an open book, but Jack was still a bit of a mystery. “What did your father do before he passed away?”
“Many things, but his favorite was working in the lavender fields. Everyone works all day, every day, until the harvest comes in and the lavender goes to the distillery.”
“A lavender farmer?” Lily gasped in delight. “No wonder you know so much about it.”
He gave her a rueful look. “I was not spared due to my tender age. As soon as I was useful, I was in the fields with the men. And before the age of cell phones, I was the messenger boy, running from the fields back to the house to get supplies, check the weather report and most importantly, learn when lunch would be ready. Harvesters eat a lot. Probably over four or five thousand calories a day because the lavender is picked by hand.”
“Your mother must have been busy cooking for them.”
He choked back a laugh and gave her an incredulous look. “My mother wasn’t much of a cook. One of the other local women was in charge of meals. Even now, Maman prefers parties to farming.”
“But this is lavender. It’s not exactly pig farming. I’ve been out in the Pennsylvania Amish country and, believe me, there are much smellier farms there.”
“And that was her favorite part of the lavender. Being from the farm, not on the farm. She could give gifts of lavender perfume or sachets and pretend she pressed the blossoms with her own hands.”
Lily laughed. “Your mother sounds like…” She didn’t want to mention growing up in the servants’ quarters. It sounded so archaic, and she didn’t know if Jack was as egalitarian as he seemed. Some of the French were firmly steeped in the class system and regarded upwardly mobile women as peasant upstarts. “She sounds like a woman my mother knew. She would hire the best party planners, caterers, florists, musicians for her party and then act as if she’d done all the cooking and decorating herself.”
Lily herself had served at dozens of Mrs. Wyndham’s high-powered functions where local celebrities and politicians were frequent guests. Her mother had often roped her into waitressing if the caterers needed an extra pair of hands. Talk about humiliating—serving hors d’oeuvres to your classmates’ parents and cleaning up broken glass and spilled booze when they’d had too much to drink. Worst of all was when her classmates were invited and she had to serve them. She wished more than once that she could wear a wig and sunglasses to those parties.
“Parties here in Provence are more casual. As long as you have plenty of good food and wine, everyone is happy.” He turned a corner leading down into the town and they quickly came to a standstill in traffic.
Lily looked around. “I thought you said this wasn’t a huge festival. When was the last time you were here for it?”
He grimaced. “Ten years ago.”
“Looks like the world has discovered your sleepy little village.”
“I suppose they welcome the increased tourist money.” But he didn’t look thrilled about
Jack slowly nodded. “ Oui, I suppose it does. Sometimes I would bribe my tentmates to go to the mess hall for an extra hour so I could be alone.”
“And you came down here for some vine-ripened aromatherapy. All you have to do is open your window and you get a snootful of soothing lavender scent.”
He laughed. “But Lily, this is not true lavender here. This is lavandin, a hybrid that is more suited to homemade candles and laundry soap. In fact, the word lavender comes from the Latin word ‘to wash.’ I will show you the true lavender, like I am showing you the true France.”
“And I appreciate you doing this for me, Jack.”
But he was already shaking his head. “No, no appreciation necessary for me. If you see the real country, your articles will be strong and authentic, better for your career.”
“How nice.” He was thinking of her writing career? That was even more touching. On one hand, she was an open book, but Jack was still a bit of a mystery. “What did your father do before he passed away?”
“Many things, but his favorite was working in the lavender fields. Everyone works all day, every day, until the harvest comes in and the lavender goes to the distillery.”
“A lavender farmer?” Lily gasped in delight. “No wonder you know so much about it.”
He gave her a rueful look. “I was not spared due to my tender age. As soon as I was useful, I was in the fields with the men. And before the age of cell phones, I was the messenger boy, running from the fields back to the house to get supplies, check the weather report and most importantly, learn when lunch would be ready. Harvesters eat a lot. Probably over four or five thousand calories a day because the lavender is picked by hand.”
“Your mother must have been busy cooking for them.”
He choked back a laugh and gave her an incredulous look. “My mother wasn’t much of a cook. One of the other local women was in charge of meals. Even now, Maman prefers parties to farming.”
“But this is lavender. It’s not exactly pig farming. I’ve been out in the Pennsylvania Amish country and, believe me, there are much smellier farms there.”
“And that was her favorite part of the lavender. Being from the farm, not on the farm. She could give gifts of lavender perfume or sachets and pretend she pressed the blossoms with her own hands.”
Lily laughed. “Your mother sounds like…” She didn’t want to mention growing up in the servants’ quarters. It sounded so archaic, and she didn’t know if Jack was as egalitarian as he seemed. Some of the French were firmly steeped in the class system and regarded upwardly mobile women as peasant upstarts. “She sounds like a woman my mother knew. She would hire the best party planners, caterers, florists, musicians for her party and then act as if she’d done all the cooking and decorating herself.”
Lily herself had served at dozens of Mrs. Wyndham’s high-powered functions where local celebrities and politicians were frequent guests. Her mother had often roped her into waitressing if the caterers needed an extra pair of hands. Talk about humiliating—serving hors d’oeuvres to your classmates’ parents and cleaning up broken glass and spilled booze when they’d had too much to drink. Worst of all was when her classmates were invited and she had to serve them. She wished more than once that she could wear a wig and sunglasses to those parties.
“Parties here in Provence are more casual. As long as you have plenty of good food and wine, everyone is happy.” He turned a corner leading down into the town and they quickly came to a standstill in traffic.
Lily looked around. “I thought you said this wasn’t a huge festival. When was the last time you were here for it?”
He grimaced. “Ten years ago.”
“Looks like the world has discovered your sleepy little village.”
“I suppose they welcome the increased tourist money.” But he didn’t look thrilled about
Similar Books
