He walked lightly through the dining room, nodding to the housekeeper, who was supervising the setting of the table for luncheon. The conservatory—part of the terrace that wrapped round the house from the ballroom—was long and narrow, the glass walls and roof letting in sunlight and keeping out the cold.
“Harriet,” he called. She was bent over one of the tables that ran around the room, gently repotting an orchid. She turned when she heard him and her face lit with a smile.
“Brother, look! This little plant has grown so well.”
“It has, indeed,” Callum commented, pausing to admire the small plant, which had, indeed, burgeoned over the summer. She carefully set it into its new pot filled with tree bark, then placed the pot caringly back where it had stood. She paused to wipe her fingers on a rag, then turned to him.
“Is aught amiss?” she asked, a delicate brow lowering in a frown.
Callum shook his head, smiling at her. “No, dear sister! All is well,” he assured her. “Most well.” The memory of Rosalyn’s smile made his own lips tug upwards at the corners with a grin.
“Good, brother,” Harriet said gently. “Were you looking for me for something?” she asked, lifting a metal watering can and pouring water into some plant pots.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Callum replied, deciding to throw aside caution. “Do you think that it is possible to fall in love in a month?”
Harriet blinked at him. “These things cannot be measured by time, brother,” she said with a gentle smile. “Just like a plant does not grow in a day, or a minute, or a year. It does so continuously. Sometimes slowly, sometimes fast.”
Callum grinned. “That is well said,” he replied, his heart soaring.
“Have you fallen in love, brother?” she asked him, her blue gaze level where it held his own.
Callum nodded. “I believe so, sister,” he told her, warmth glowing in his voice. “I believe I have.”
“Miss Rothwell?” she asked, her own eyes lighting with joy.
“Yes. Yes!” Callum nodded, joy filling him as he expressed his love. Keeping the truth to himself had been hard. Being able to share it, to enjoy it, to speak of it, felt wonderful. “She is...like no other I have ever met.” His throat tightened with feeling.
Harriet smiled. “She seems like a good person,” she replied gently.
“She is. A good person. Bright, clever, and good-hearted.” He grinned, aware of how obvious it must be to anyone listening that he had fallen for her.
“I am so happy for you, brother,” Harriet said warmly. “Truly, I am.”
Callum grinned. “I think that you have a great deal of experience with falling in love,” he replied, eyes widening as he thought of her wise words on the topic. He had never realised how many hidden depths his sister possessed.
“Mayhap,” she said with a smile, turning to hide her blush. Her eyes sparkled.
“Mr Rothwell?” he guessed.
“It could be,” his sister replied, and the bright grin that blossomed on her face made it clear to him that he had guessed rightly.
“They are a remarkable family,” he teased. The sound of Harriet’s giggle kindled his heart.
Before she could reply anything, footsteps at the doorway made Callum turn. He tensed instantly as he spotted his mother standing there.
“Son! Harriet. Grand. I am pleased to see you both here. I have to speak to you, Callum.” She gazed firmly at him.
“Mother, if it is anything of an uncomfortable nature, might we not do it somewhere else?” he looked at Harriet. Loud voices and distressing topics upset her.
“I see no reason why, son,” his mother said firmly. “Should Harriet wish to exit, there is nobody saying that she has to stay and listen.”
“No,” Callum agreed, trying to be reasonable. “But...”
“Allow me to say first of all,” she began, interrupting him without embarrassment. “I have always been appalled by your choice of the next duchess. That woman has no social graces and no idea of what is appropriate. One only had to see her on our outing to the village to know that she acts without discernment or consideration.”
“Mother!” Callum exploded. His face heated with anger. “How can you say that? She acted with the utmost sensitivity and consideration. How else could you explain her actions?” He glared at her.f
“She showed no decorum. It is not for her to decide which gifts are given to whom,” she said thinly.
