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“I’m very impressed with your collection of roses, Lady Hester. This must be both a very pretty as well as a very interesting spectacle when in bloom," Algernon Gaywood said as they were walking in the garden the next day, his mother trailing behind them as a chaperone.
Hester smiled at Algernon Gaywood's comment. It seemed he was as interested in botany as she was in birds. At least it meant he would understand having a passion for something.
“I can’t take any credit for this, Mr. Gaywood. My paternal grandmother was very fond of roses and had this bed planted.”
“And the duchess?”
Hester almost laughed at the thought of her mother caring about flowers. She was as passionately devoted to her father’s political career as he was.
“Flowers are of no interest to her except as decoration. Her only role in this is that she has hired a very well-renowned head gardener,” Hester answered as she studied Algernon Gaywood’s profile.
She liked how tall he was. He looked serious when he did not smile, but it suited him, and he seemed a many facetted person. So far, she had observed about him that he doted on his sister and seemed genuinely fond of his parents, that he had an interest in gardening, but less so in birds, and that he for some reason knew enough about fall injuries to diagnose a sprained ankle.
What would it take for her to fall in love with him? Or just be more interested in him than Lord Lambourn?
The other men, her mother, Mrs. Drummond, and the two Misses Drummonds had all gone hunting earlier that day. Hester had wanted to go as well. But she could not face Lord Lambourn in the informal setting of a hunt. She had told her mother that her stomach was not right and that she preferred to stay behind and be close to a chamber pot. Luckily her mother had not questioned it.
When Mrs. Gaywood had asked whether Hester would join her and her son for a walk as they had originally agreed, she had accepted straight away. She needed her mind away from what had happened in the library last night. Not least in her bedroom afterward.
Her body had been buzzing and warm from her contact with Lord Lambourn when she returned to her room, and she had thought in her state of arousal that she would finally be able to achieve a climax. But her efforts had only led her to feel tingling and frustrated, seriously considering whether Lord Lambourn would reject her if she came to his room in nothing but her shift. She had known that she could never be so bold, having been rejected once was quite sufficient, yet she could not help but play out the scenario in her mind over and over.
“Do you have a garden where you live, Mr. Gaywood?” she asked since she thought it might be her turn to speak. She was uncertain how long the silence had stretched between them but was aware that many people did not enjoy lengthy silences.
“No, I live in a bachelor flat...”
“But you will of course have your own house, when you marry,” his mother interrupted from behind.
“Yes, Mother, I thought that went without saying that I would seek different lodgings if I marry...”
“When,” his mother interrupted him again.
“Pardon?”
“When you marry. You said ‘if’ as if it is not going to happen,” his mother stated.
“Yes, thank you,” Algernon Gaywood said in a tone of voice that was decidedly strained. “As I was saying, Lady Hester, I do not have a garden at the moment, but the garden at our ancestral home Grimshaw Manor was made by my design. Along with the garden at Goldington Hall, you know the ancestral seat of the Baron of Goldington. The one my cousin is married to.”
“I had no idea frankly,” Hester told him, before questioning whether it would have been more polite to pretend that she did know. Fortunately, Algernon Gaywood simply smiled at her as if she had said something amusing.
His lips were thinner than Lord Lambourn’s, Hester noticed. Did the density of lips make a difference when kissing someone? She could not be certain since she had only kissed one person, but it seemed obvious that it would be a factor. Perhaps she would have a chance to test it, except she felt no inclination to kiss Algernon Gaywood.
“I believe you said you keep quails, Lady Hester,” Algernon Gaywood stated beside her.
“Yes, would you like to see them, sir? I don’t normally like observing birds in captivity, but there is something very entertaining about quails. And then they taste great too,” she added seriously.
Algernon Gaywood snorted with laughter before he covered his mouth with his hand.
“Do you eat them?” he questioned her.
“Well, of course,” Hester told him with a frown. He was not the first person to question this, but it still puzzled her every time. “As I said they taste delicious.”
“I have just never heard of a woman eating her own pets,” Algernon Gaywood told her, the mirth still evident in his voice.
“Algernon!” His mother hissed from behind.
“I believe that if you are looking for a woman that is like everyone else, you should not be courting me,” Hester told him, then realized that she had been too forward as she saw his both startled and amused face, not least heard the gasp from his mother. “I mean... No, I mean what I said, but I realize that I should not have said it. What are you to answer to such a statement? Not least it makes me seem presumptuous, which I suppose I can be at times, but...”
She stopped her mindless monologue and took a deep breath, hoping the respite would help her find a suitable answer.
“I think everyone being the same and exactly what they seem would be quite boring in the end, don’t you agree, Lady Hester?” Algernon Gaywood rescued their conversation and Hester sent him a grateful smile.
***
Flint eyed the line of riders in front of him as well as the carriage with the duchess, the two Miss Drummonds and Sophia. Despite her condition, she had gone on the hunt and Addinggrove had allowed it. Flint tried to control his concern, tried to remind himself that women had been having children for hundreds of years, thousands, and that most of them actually lived through it. For some reason, his brain would not accept it as fact though. He still leaned towards talking to Addinggrove about what Sophia was allowed to do while pregnant. There were only five months left, it could not be too much to ask that she be confined to her home for the last months and live a quiet life to take care of herself and her unborn child.
A rider approached him from behind, the dark brown mule of the horse appearing on his right. Flint gently steered his horse to the left to make room for the other rider, assuming whomever it was, wished to pass him, but as he reached his side, Lord Archibald slowed the horse down.
“Nice shot earlier, my lord,” he stated with a drawl, that had Flint wonder how two siblings turned out as differently as Hester and Lord Archibald. And especially ended up liking each other as well.
“Thank you, you are a good shooter as well, my lord,” he returned the compliment. Hoping he at least sounded amenable, even though he had little interest in striking up a conversation with the carefree rake that surpassed even Percy in the amount of scandals and women. Not gambling and drinking though, unfortunately. But everyone in London had heard of how Lord Archibald had been found with an actress on the theater manager’s desk. Which seemed to have been one scandal too many for the duke since Lord Archibald was sequestered here.
They rode for a moment in silence.
“Is your estate...” There was a questioning tone to Lord Archibald’s voice.
“Barford Abbey,” Flint supplied.
“Yes, Barford Abbey. Is it good for hunting?”
“Yes, we shoot for a couple of weeks in the autumn. My brother and I will be heading there after this visit,” he added, feeling that he needed to contribute somehow to the conversation although he was not certain why Lord Archibald wished to speak with him in the first place.
Lord Archibald only acknowledged this with a non-committal sound. His gaze was far away as if he was thinking intently. Somehow this unnerved Flint a little.
“I thought your sister was going shooting today,” Flint remarked casually. He was certain that Hester had said at some point that she liked to hunt.
“She cried off,” Lord Archibald stated as his gaze returned to Flint and seemed to search his face. Flint could not help but turn to face forward. At least Lord Archibald’s stare did not feel as potent when only landing on his profile. “Apparently she would rather show Mr. Gaywood the gardens today.”
Flint clenched the reins, almost making the horse stop in the process. He quickly loosened his hold even though it felt like an act that went against his nature. Yet he had to relinquish all emotions regarding Hester. She would be Lady Hester to him from now on and nothing more.
“Lambourn, you seem to be woolgathering,” Lord Archibald drawled beside him, luckily rescuing Flint from his own thoughts.
“Well, yes,” Flint muttered, acutely aware that he had been fantasizing about kissing the man’s sister.
“How is Miss Gaywood?”
Flint turned to look at the other man’s profile, but his face was completely expressionless. Did Lord Archibald suspect that he and Hester had met?
“She is fine, I think. I have not seen her since yesterday when I paid her a brief visit, but her mother assures me that she is perfectly well. She might even be down for dinner this evening,” he rambled on, happy that they were talking about another matter.
Cecilia was the perfect fiancé and would be the perfect wife. She would never lead him astray. She would never turn his head with love, devotion, and desire. He was sure that he would miss her if she died but never so much that he would be heartbroken. He would not take up drinking, gambling, and horse racing in an attempt to forget the pain her death had caused her. No, his feelings towards Cecilia were affectionate but much more sensible than that. And because of that she deserved that he did right by her and shut Lady Hester from his mind once and for all.
“In fact, I plan on visiting her when we arrive back at the estate,” he told Lord Archibald as if he needed to justify himself to the other man.
“Well, I’m sure she will be delighted,” he muttered as if he knew she would not. It had to be a scheme of some sort because Lord Archibald could certainly not know Cecilia better than Flint did.
He was spared having to ponder the issue any further as the stables came into view. He could see the first riders greeting someone and when they reached the spot, he saw that it was Lady Hester, Algernon Gaywood, and his mother. She was showing him an aviary and talking animatedly. Algernon Gaywood listened intently, while his mother stood a little distance looking as if the papers could be signed any moment.
Flint clenched his hands around the reins again but managed to force them to relax just before his horse stopped completely in front of the tableau. He thought he heard Lord Archibald chuckle but could not be certain due to the blood pounding in his ears.