The paths leading around either side of the house were bordered with blossom-laden flowers, carefully laid out and pruned back with exactness. Each plant almost perfectly matched its neighbor, and there was not a dead leaf or a wilting flower to be seen. Nicholas resolved to find out who their gardener was and to do his best to hire the man away.
"Beth is out here constantly," Amelia was saying, "sitting in the sun and digging about in the dirt. It's simply a wonder she isn't brown as toast."
Nicholas was admiring the rosebushes when Amelia came to a halt just as they were rounding a corner. He glanced at her, wondering why she had stopped and why she suddenly looked amused. He followed her gaze and saw someone sitting on the ground in the middle of the path, pinching dead leaves from the pansies lining the walk next to the house. Most of her face was shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat, but he caught a glimpse of her features when she sat up for an instant to push back the hair that was falling out of what had once been a rather severe chignon. She brushed impatiently at the wisps of hair and then pushed more pins into place. The gesture made him think of a woman he had known in Paris. She had arched her neck in just that same way. They had got along famously. He thought it odd that the Willards had hired a woman to work in the garden. Not that it made any difference, if the result was this garden.
She was leaning forward to reach the backs of the plants, and as she did, the skirt of her faded dress tightened over her legs, bent underneath her so that she was sitting mostly on one flank. When she sat back again the material settled into folds of blue wool.
"Oh, dear." Amelia sighed when the girl shaded her eyes against the waning afternoon sun and waved at them with a gloved hand. Nicholas was shocked to see it was Elizabeth. "I'm sure she thinks you're Father," Amelia said. She shrugged and walked toward her. "I was just telling Mr. Villines how wonderfully you keep the flowers, Beth," she said when the two reached her. "He is here for tea," she added, to give her cousin a chance to stand up. "We decided to walk in the garden while we waited for you."
"Good afternoon," Elizabeth said while she brushed away the dirt that clung to her skirt. She extended her hand and blushed crimson when she realized she had not taken off her work gloves. She snatched them off and thrust them into a pocket of her skirt.
"And good afternoon to you, Elizabeth." He smiled at her. This time it was easier to make her back into his little girl. The tightening quiver of arousal was gone almost immediately.
"Well," Amelia said, taking Nicholas's arm again. "Perhaps we should go in for tea, now that we've found Beth?"
When Elizabeth came into the drawing room where tea was being served, she had changed from her faded blue wool into a watered silk and had combed her hair into a simple twist. Her dress was dark green and high-collared, and she wore a cameo pinned at her neck. For an instant Nicholas thought about how she had reminded him of that woman in Paris. The first thing he'd done after finally convincing the woman to leave with him was take down her hair and kiss her throat. It was strange that Elizabeth, of all people, should remind him of her.
"Elizabeth," he said, sitting down again when she took a place next to her aunt, "are you really responsible for the remarkable condition of the flowers here?"
"I suppose so."
"If you will forgive me for saying so, it's rather a pity. I'd promised myself I was going to attempt to hire away your gardener." The dark green of her dress made the familiar gray of her eyes even more piercing. She smiled. It had a disconcerting effect on him.
"You still might, I suppose. Mr. Hawley's quite good."
"Would you pour, Beth?" Amelia signaled the servant to move the tea things in front of Elizabeth.
"Where did you find the pattern for the laying out of the flower beds?" Nicholas persisted.
"It's my own. I
"Beth is out here constantly," Amelia was saying, "sitting in the sun and digging about in the dirt. It's simply a wonder she isn't brown as toast."
Nicholas was admiring the rosebushes when Amelia came to a halt just as they were rounding a corner. He glanced at her, wondering why she had stopped and why she suddenly looked amused. He followed her gaze and saw someone sitting on the ground in the middle of the path, pinching dead leaves from the pansies lining the walk next to the house. Most of her face was shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat, but he caught a glimpse of her features when she sat up for an instant to push back the hair that was falling out of what had once been a rather severe chignon. She brushed impatiently at the wisps of hair and then pushed more pins into place. The gesture made him think of a woman he had known in Paris. She had arched her neck in just that same way. They had got along famously. He thought it odd that the Willards had hired a woman to work in the garden. Not that it made any difference, if the result was this garden.
She was leaning forward to reach the backs of the plants, and as she did, the skirt of her faded dress tightened over her legs, bent underneath her so that she was sitting mostly on one flank. When she sat back again the material settled into folds of blue wool.
"Oh, dear." Amelia sighed when the girl shaded her eyes against the waning afternoon sun and waved at them with a gloved hand. Nicholas was shocked to see it was Elizabeth. "I'm sure she thinks you're Father," Amelia said. She shrugged and walked toward her. "I was just telling Mr. Villines how wonderfully you keep the flowers, Beth," she said when the two reached her. "He is here for tea," she added, to give her cousin a chance to stand up. "We decided to walk in the garden while we waited for you."
"Good afternoon," Elizabeth said while she brushed away the dirt that clung to her skirt. She extended her hand and blushed crimson when she realized she had not taken off her work gloves. She snatched them off and thrust them into a pocket of her skirt.
"And good afternoon to you, Elizabeth." He smiled at her. This time it was easier to make her back into his little girl. The tightening quiver of arousal was gone almost immediately.
"Well," Amelia said, taking Nicholas's arm again. "Perhaps we should go in for tea, now that we've found Beth?"
When Elizabeth came into the drawing room where tea was being served, she had changed from her faded blue wool into a watered silk and had combed her hair into a simple twist. Her dress was dark green and high-collared, and she wore a cameo pinned at her neck. For an instant Nicholas thought about how she had reminded him of that woman in Paris. The first thing he'd done after finally convincing the woman to leave with him was take down her hair and kiss her throat. It was strange that Elizabeth, of all people, should remind him of her.
"Elizabeth," he said, sitting down again when she took a place next to her aunt, "are you really responsible for the remarkable condition of the flowers here?"
"I suppose so."
"If you will forgive me for saying so, it's rather a pity. I'd promised myself I was going to attempt to hire away your gardener." The dark green of her dress made the familiar gray of her eyes even more piercing. She smiled. It had a disconcerting effect on him.
"You still might, I suppose. Mr. Hawley's quite good."
"Would you pour, Beth?" Amelia signaled the servant to move the tea things in front of Elizabeth.
"Where did you find the pattern for the laying out of the flower beds?" Nicholas persisted.
"It's my own. I
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