Ravishing in Red by Madeline Hunter Page B

room. His guide opened a door and humid warmth flowed over him. He looked up. Half of the pitched roof consisted of small panes of glass too.
    “Wait here, please.” She disappeared around a huge potted palm. A few moments later she stepped back into view and gestured for him. She pointed him toward Mrs. Joyes, then took her leave.
    Mrs. Joyes worked at a table covered with soil-filled pots. The same soil spotted her apron, hands, and cap. As he approached, she lifted a rag to clean off the worst of it.
    She had a beautiful face. Very pale. Very perfect. Dark gray eyes. She possessed a natural elegance that even affected the way she stood. If he had never seen her before, he might have struck him dumb. Except he had seen her before. He was sure of it.
    “Lord Sebastian Summerhays, we are honored. We do not often have such illustrious guests. Are you seeking a special flower as a gift for a loved one? We have rare pelagoriums of our own hybridization that are always appreciated.”
    “I am seeking a woman who I am told lives here. Miss Kelmsleigh.” He nodded to the box he carried. “I must return something of hers.”
    “Miss Kelmsleigh is not at home. I expect her to return very shortly, if you would like to wait. Or you can leave the box with me.”
    Well, there it was. He could set the box down and walk out. There was no reason not to trust Mrs. Joyes to give it over when Miss Kelmsleigh returned. If he required she not open it, she most likely would swallow her curiosity.
    “If you expect her soon, I should give it to her personally.”
    “I will send word that she come here as soon as she returns, then.” She turned her head. “Lizzie, would you—Now, where has she gone? She was here just before Celia brought you in, and even read your card . . .” She clucked her tongue and displayed exasperation. “Please wait here, Lord Sebastian, while I personally tell the others to send Miss Kelmsleigh to us.”
    She left him amid the greenery. The air carried a lush scent that contained a bit of everything within its moist density. Citrus and roses and even the clean hint of grass. A person could get drunk on such perfume. He poked at the soil in one pot that Mrs. Joyes had been working. His finger touched the mass of a bulb.
    He ambled down the aisle, past several potted lemon trees and tables of blooming flowers. At the end of the building a grape vine grew inside the glass. It was rooted outside, but its thick core entered through a low hole in the brick wall. Its various tendrils wove up sturdy supports, then rambled across iron bars two feet above his head. A stone table and four chairs sat under this leafy indoor arbor, creating a Tuscan vignette.
    “That was an experiment,” Mrs. Joyes said as she rejoined him. “The grape vine. I did not think it would work.”
    “It must be pleasant to sit at this table on sunny days in winter. You have a remarkable conservatory here.”
    “It is a greenhouse. Most of what people call conservatories are really greenhouses or forcing houses. I suppose that does not sound fancy enough so the wrong word has become common. A real conservatory does just that, conserve plants over winter while they are dormant. We have one of those too, at the back of the garden.”
    Her face arrested his attention again. “Please excuse me, but I believe I have been unintentionally rude. We have met before, I am sure, but I cannot remember where.”
    “We have indeed met, years ago. I was a governess for the family of the Duke of Becksbridge. You and I were introduced at a garden party which I was allowed to attend with the eldest of my charges. You have an excellent memory for the insignificant people whose paths you cross in life, Lord Sebastian.”
    If she were indeed insignificant, he might deserve the praise, but he doubted any man forgot meeting her. “There were other parties where the children were present. I do not recall you at those.”
    “I was only with them one year before I