Blake smiled. “That sounds like my mother.”
What he was not expecting was to find the Dowager Duchess deep in conversation with Jane. The two of them were standing by the rose garden, and Jane seemed to be animatedly discussing something with his mother.
He moved closer to them, his curiosity piqued. Taking care to tread quietly, he moved towards them.
“I have heard rosemary is particularly useful for curing such things as toothache and earache, but I had not heard of its use for headaches,” the Dowager Duchess was saying as she smiled at Jane.
“I confess, I was somewhat skeptical myself until a few summers ago, when my sister Rose was suffering from near-constant headaches. I recalled reading about rosemary tea and made her a pot,” Jane explained. “Within hours, she was back on her feet, and now she swears by it. I myself have tried it from time to time and have found it most effective. Though I often add honey to it, as I do not care for the taste.”
“And it is no less effective?” the Dowager Duchess asked.
“Not that I noticed,” Jane said.
“I shall have to try it.” The Dowager Duchess nodded to herself thoughtfully before adding, “You seem to have a rather deep knowledge of medicinal herbs.”
“I enjoy studying such things, and botany more generally has always been an interest of mine.”
“My son is similar. As a young man, he spent many hours poring over botanical books and the like. He would come in most days and tell me some new thing he had learned about this plant or that tree.” The Dowager Duchess smiled fondly, and Blake felt his cheeks redden.
“Your son sounds like a very interesting fellow—perhaps we would get on rather well,” Jane murmured.
Blake could not help but laugh softly as his mother replied, “I am sure you would.”
Both women turned to look at him. His mother broke into a broad smile and opened her arms wide.
“Speak of the devil.” She pulled him into a big hug. “It is good to see you, my dearest Blake.”
“And you, Mother.” Blake gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, trying not to laugh at Jane’s flabbergasted expression.
“The Duke of Caden is your son?” Jane asked. “But you look so different.” Color rose to her cheeks as she reconsidered her words. “I am sorry, that was rude.”
“No apologies necessary, I know we look different.” The Dowager Duchess smiled kindly at Jane. “And I did not introduce myself to you by my title—I find it makes me feel far too old.”
“She is my stepmother. My father remarried shortly after my mother passed away,” Blake explained.
“Ah.” Jane nodded, though Blake could tell she was still feeling a little embarrassed.
“Was I correct in hearing that Miss Pembleton has convinced you to try rosemary tea for your headaches?” Blake asked. “I have been telling you for years that you really ought to try it.”
The Dowager Duchess made a face. “Yes, but unlike you, Miss Pembleton made a suggestion to make it more palatable. You know I loathe the taste of rosemary.”
“More than you loathe headaches?” Blake raised an eyebrow at his stepmother.
“Rosemary is not to everyone’s taste. I find it rather a lot, that is why I added honey,” Jane pointed out.
“I worried that honey might undo the medicinal properties. After all, it is medicine. It is not supposed to taste pleasant,” he replied.
Jane laughed. “Are you the same Duke who told me that life was for enjoying? That I should try and indulge in more pleasantries?”
“I am, but are you not the same woman who told me that life cannot be all about pleasure?” he retorted, smiling.
“Perhaps your influence is finally taking hold.”
Blake raised his eyebrows at her and rubbed his hands together in a pantomime of villainy. “Ah, my evil plan is working. Be careful, Miss Pembleton, who knows what you will uncover if you continue down this path.”
“Has your son always been so prone to melodrama?” Jane turned to his stepmother, her voice amused.
“He has a great love of theatre, though you cannot hold him entirely responsible for this. I was the one who insisted he joined me at such things, as his father did not care for them,” the Dowager Duchess said.
