Chapter Twelve

Sussex, April 1925

 

“Would you like a drink, Evan?” Milo waved from the terrace that stretched along the side of the house. “I’ve made some lemonade.”

“I’ll be there in a minute. I want to get these marigolds planted.”

Evan smiled at the sight of Milo, adorable in his paint-splashed work clothes and sitting in the shade of the old rowan tree. He still couldn’t believe he was living in such a wondrous place, where the country air was fresh and pure and the seaside was only a few miles away. Evan had fallen in love with Southease View the moment he’d seen the Victorian villa, with its ornate gables and tiny turrets like something out of a fairy tale. He’d gazed entranced at his new home, and as sunlight trickled through the trees and honeysuckle had scented the air, he’d envisioned an idyllic future there for himself and Milo.

The six months that followed had indeed been more sublime than Evan could have wished for, but their new life hadn’t been without its challenges. When they’d first moved to Lewes, Evan’s work as Milo’s secretary had taken an enormous amount of his time. He’d written to Milo’s clients to arrange sittings and payments, ordered paints and canvases from suppliers in London and, most time-consuming of all, helped put his studio in order. Milo had used the old nursery for his art before, but only during holidays, and while the ceiling-high windows made it ideal for painting, it had been in no state to welcome the great and good to sit for their portraits.

He and Milo had been exhausted by the end of each day, after plastering walls and stripping floors, not to mention making cushions and curtains, but Evan couldn’t have been happier. Falling into Milo’s vast bed at night was like sinking into a heavenly cloud of lavender, where they enjoyed and explored each other’s bodies like never before. And on those nights when they were too tired to make love, Evan lay enfolded in Milo’s arms, floating into the deepest sleep and the sweetest dreams imaginable.

Of course, their sleeping arrangements weren’t entirely straightforward. Before tiptoeing into Milo’s room, Evan crumpled his bedsheets in order to save the housekeeper’s blushes, even though she almost certainly knew where he slept. Mrs. Bligh had looked after Southease View since Milo could remember, and she did so with the help of a small but loyal—and trustworthy—staff. Mr. Casey tended the garden, young Abraham Kenton did the odd jobs, and Sally the maid had helped, until recently, with the cooking and cleaning.

Sally was a lively girl, always one for a joke and a gossip, but she’d gone and married a car mechanic from Worthing. Mrs. Bligh had advertised for a new maid and employed another spirited girl named Dora. She’d worked hard and was friendly with the rest of the staff, but when she’d caught him kissing Milo in the summerhouse, Evan had thought she might faint with shock. Mrs. Bligh and the others coughed and turned a blind eye if they walked in at an inappropriate moment, but Dora had been an unexpectedly God-fearing girl, who couldn’t countenance staying in a house where such sinful acts took place.

She had been very good in the circumstances, only asking for a month’s wages and a decent reference. While she’d promised not to breathe a word of what she’d seen, the household had spent several tense weeks awaiting a knock at the door from a policeman—or worse, a journalist. They’d thankfully heard no more from Dora, who’d secured a position three hundred miles north in Lancashire, but Evan and Milo had decided not to risk appointing another maid. Instead, they both contributed to the daily running of the house. Milo helped with the cleaning and Evan the cooking, and they all muddled along nicely, but it did mean almost every hour of the day was occupied. It was only in the last few weeks that Evan had found time to start work on the garden.

The grounds of Southease View were relatively modest, but giving them a new lease of life was a tremendous opportunity, and Mr. Casey, who was long past the first flush of youth, was glad of his assistance. Evan had spent several absorbing evenings sketching his horticultural plans, and when he began to put his designs into practice, he’d imagined that must be how Milo felt when he laid the first strokes of paint on a canvas. Almost as exciting was the chance he’d been given to work alongside the head gardener of one of the county’s larger houses, and Evan looked forward to the day each week he’d spend there when summer arrived at last.

Meanwhile, Milo’s reputation had spread far and wide, his most prestigious appointment being to paint the portrait of a Danish princess. He and Evan were going to Copenhagen in September, and it would be their second long trip together. They’d already journeyed to Scotland that year, having taken a detour to Derbyshire to visit Evan’s parents. His mother had treated Milo like royalty, bringing out the best cups and saucers, but his father had eyed his son’s employer with undisguised suspicion. Evan had been guiltily relieved to say his goodbyes and head north of the border, where they’d seen some magnificent sights, from the tranquil banks of Loch Lomond to the rugged peaks of Skye.

It had been terrific to see Sandy too, who was much more content in his home town of Crieff, where he’d seemed to know almost everyone. Evan couldn’t remember half the people Sandy had introduced them to, but he wouldn’t forget Mabel, the trainee nurse Sandy was courting. She was a lovely girl with long blonde hair and the prettiest laugh, and Evan suspected it wouldn’t be long before a wedding invitation arrived. He only hoped they’d be able to fit the trip into their hectic social calendar.

Evan had worried Milo might miss his friends when they moved, but his London circle seemed to have followed them out to the country. Bertie and Finlay, Selby and Jacob came to stay for weekends and longer, along with other men and women Evan had never met before. He’d been nervous at first about playing the host, but he had grown to enjoy entertaining and readily joined the conversation, whether a literary discussion at dinner or a scandalous tale over afternoon tea.

His only anxious moment had been when Milo’s parents came to stay. They’d been delightful when he’d met them in London, but spending two whole days with them had been a different matter. Apart from anything else, he hadn’t been sure what they’d make of his designs for the garden, with the fragrant herb beds and vibrant borders of dahlias and chrysanthemums. Evan also found it hard to forget that the Halsteads knew what he got up to with their son, but they’d seemed quite at ease when they arrived with a hamper of treats from Fortnum & Mason, and had been extremely encouraging about his floral scheme.

As he planted the last of the marigolds and strolled across the lawn to the house, Evan ran through his plans for the coming days. He had to go shopping in Brighton tomorrow while a baroness came to sit for Milo. The next day was set aside for paperwork and dinner with Jeremy and a new friend of his. Then the day after that…

Evan realized they had no plans at all for that day. He and Milo could do whatever they pleased. They could go back to bed after breakfast and spend the whole day making love if they liked, and with luck, that was exactly what they would do. For as much as he loved their busy life, filled with work and friends and family, the times Evan adored were those he spent alone with Milo, lying in bed talking and kissing, taking a leisurely walk to the coast, or drinking homemade lemonade on the terrace of their house in the country.