to see her this trip. I just arrived late
last night, and must be off again early tomorrow.”
“Not been to see Grandmere?” Hayden’s gaze assessed
him. “Then you are hiding something, Chas. Must a’ been
afraid she’d wheedle it out of you-or box your ears. Last
time I was by she spent five minutes abusin’ me. Confound
that tongue of hers! And she pinched my ear so hard it’s
smartin’ yet” He rubbed his right ear. “Never thought the
Frenchies were s’posed to be such prudes”
“I appreciate the sacrifice. If she’s after you for your infractions perhaps she will let me be”
“All the same the next time you are in town you must see
her. And I cannot lie to her-if she asks-about your visit
today.”
“I would not ask you to, my lord.” When Hayden smiled,
Chas asked, “What do you hear from David?” Hayden’s
younger brother, Lord David, Major Trent, had served with
Wellington on the Peninsula for five years.
“You’ve had the news from Paris, then?” Hayden’s
glance was sharp. “No doubt Wellington will stay while
they discuss the peace. But David shall have a dilemma. He
complains there’s little to do if he comes home. He’s not
certain he’ll sell up. Father wants him back-wants him to
consider marryin’ the neighbor-Caswell’s chit. Remember the Caswells? Guess you aren’t the only one with marriage on your mind.”
“Don’t start, Myles. ‘Tis always those who jest who
tumble furthest”
“You sound like Grandmere, Chas. ‘Tis the quaintly
Continental in you, I s’pose. At least you don’t shriek it in
French. Do remember to invite me to the wedding.” He was
laughing as Chas left him.
Meg noticed the wagons, loaded with greenery, rolling
up the front lane. She watched them long enough to be certain Cabot did not accompany them, then turned her disappointed attention to helping Lucy pack for town.
Her father had determined they would travel the end of
the following week, a decision that set off a flurry of preparation. The intention to go to London might have been
dropped out of the blue, so frantic and total were the efforts
to speed them on their way. But Meg would preferably have
stayed at Selbourne. She had no interest in the upcoming
season. And there was that small possibility, scarcely admitted, that Cabot would return before the end of the month.
When she raced down to dinner after the second bell,
she was startled to find him being seated at the table.
“Oh, Mr. Cabot,” she breathed, moving to her father’s
right side. “I did not know you had returned.”
“Just this evening, Miss Lawrence”
“You were with the wagons then?”
“They preceded me.”
Her gaze wanted to devour him. Indeed, only a glance at
Lucy, who was looking as Meg felt, recalled her to her
senses.
“Where did you get this lot, Cabot?” Bertie asked.
“Some plantsmen in Fulham. I wanted some good-sized
trees. There is one item I hope will interest Miss Lawrence”
Meg had to look at him, at his direct gaze and gleaming,
candlelit hair. “I brought you a silverbell tree for your garden ”” He sounded pleased.
“Silverbell,” Lucy repeated. “Doesn’t that sound lovely,
Meg?”
“I have not heard of such a tree, Mr. Cabot”
“‘Tis native to North America. Collinson has the Halesia only rarely. This is the sole specimen he will have this
year-a charming little tree, Miss Lawrence, with unusual
bell-like blossoms in early spring. ‘Tis aptly named.”
“Is that what the symbol on your master plan meant then,
for the stake by the teahouse? That you planned a tree?”
“Should you desire it-yes”
“You think my … the garden needs something?”
“It needs nothing,” he said, trapping her gaze. “It wants
nothing. This is merely an ornament.”
“I regret then, that I … do not want it.”
Meg heard her father draw a sharp breath, but he stayed
silent.
Cabot’s lips moved as though he would
last night, and must be off again early tomorrow.”
“Not been to see Grandmere?” Hayden’s gaze assessed
him. “Then you are hiding something, Chas. Must a’ been
afraid she’d wheedle it out of you-or box your ears. Last
time I was by she spent five minutes abusin’ me. Confound
that tongue of hers! And she pinched my ear so hard it’s
smartin’ yet” He rubbed his right ear. “Never thought the
Frenchies were s’posed to be such prudes”
“I appreciate the sacrifice. If she’s after you for your infractions perhaps she will let me be”
“All the same the next time you are in town you must see
her. And I cannot lie to her-if she asks-about your visit
today.”
“I would not ask you to, my lord.” When Hayden smiled,
Chas asked, “What do you hear from David?” Hayden’s
younger brother, Lord David, Major Trent, had served with
Wellington on the Peninsula for five years.
“You’ve had the news from Paris, then?” Hayden’s
glance was sharp. “No doubt Wellington will stay while
they discuss the peace. But David shall have a dilemma. He
complains there’s little to do if he comes home. He’s not
certain he’ll sell up. Father wants him back-wants him to
consider marryin’ the neighbor-Caswell’s chit. Remember the Caswells? Guess you aren’t the only one with marriage on your mind.”
“Don’t start, Myles. ‘Tis always those who jest who
tumble furthest”
“You sound like Grandmere, Chas. ‘Tis the quaintly
Continental in you, I s’pose. At least you don’t shriek it in
French. Do remember to invite me to the wedding.” He was
laughing as Chas left him.
Meg noticed the wagons, loaded with greenery, rolling
up the front lane. She watched them long enough to be certain Cabot did not accompany them, then turned her disappointed attention to helping Lucy pack for town.
Her father had determined they would travel the end of
the following week, a decision that set off a flurry of preparation. The intention to go to London might have been
dropped out of the blue, so frantic and total were the efforts
to speed them on their way. But Meg would preferably have
stayed at Selbourne. She had no interest in the upcoming
season. And there was that small possibility, scarcely admitted, that Cabot would return before the end of the month.
When she raced down to dinner after the second bell,
she was startled to find him being seated at the table.
“Oh, Mr. Cabot,” she breathed, moving to her father’s
right side. “I did not know you had returned.”
“Just this evening, Miss Lawrence”
“You were with the wagons then?”
“They preceded me.”
Her gaze wanted to devour him. Indeed, only a glance at
Lucy, who was looking as Meg felt, recalled her to her
senses.
“Where did you get this lot, Cabot?” Bertie asked.
“Some plantsmen in Fulham. I wanted some good-sized
trees. There is one item I hope will interest Miss Lawrence”
Meg had to look at him, at his direct gaze and gleaming,
candlelit hair. “I brought you a silverbell tree for your garden ”” He sounded pleased.
“Silverbell,” Lucy repeated. “Doesn’t that sound lovely,
Meg?”
“I have not heard of such a tree, Mr. Cabot”
“‘Tis native to North America. Collinson has the Halesia only rarely. This is the sole specimen he will have this
year-a charming little tree, Miss Lawrence, with unusual
bell-like blossoms in early spring. ‘Tis aptly named.”
“Is that what the symbol on your master plan meant then,
for the stake by the teahouse? That you planned a tree?”
“Should you desire it-yes”
“You think my … the garden needs something?”
“It needs nothing,” he said, trapping her gaze. “It wants
nothing. This is merely an ornament.”
“I regret then, that I … do not want it.”
Meg heard her father draw a sharp breath, but he stayed
silent.
Cabot’s lips moved as though he would
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