‘You will get fat, if you eat like that,’ he remarked.
‘I did not eat supper, last night,’ she reminded him.
‘That is no reason to be a glutton, today.’
She paused. In the past, if he’d talked to her that way, she’d have set the muffin aside and settled for a cup of tea and a little dry toast.
Today, she reached for the jam, adding a dollop on top of the butter. Then she ate. It was delicious.
Her grandfather made a small, disapproving noise, hoping to rein her in.
She ignored it and took another bite.
‘I have been thinking,’ he said slowly. Then he paused to sip his tea, letting the suspense build.
She continued to eat, though the muffin did not taste as good as it had. His words could suck the flavour out of her meal and the sunshine from the day. She pushed all thoughts of Thomas to the back of her mind, locking them away to keep them safe.
It annoyed her that he could manage to upset her with the same silly, dramatic tricks, over and over again. He was still waiting for her to say her line and give him the cue to speak again. How long would they have to sit here in silence if she refused to respond?
Another few seconds passed. ‘I am thinking…’ he repeated ‘…that we do not need a garden, after all.’
She struggled to swallow the last bite of muffin she’d taken. It felt as if her throat was closing around it, choking her. She could not speak to defend herself or tell him that the garden had been bought with her parents’ money and was not his to touch. Verydeliberately, she picked up her teacup and sipped, taking her time to answer until she was sure she was in control. ‘We have had a garden for as long as we’ve been here. Why change it now?’
‘I had not even seen the place until yesterday, when the countess visited.’ His smile grew smug. ‘If it is used so rarely, there is little point in expending money on it.’
Used rarely by him. It was more likely he wanted to cut off her only escape when they were together. She chose her next words carefully, so he would not think he’d upset her. ‘What would you have in its place?’
He paused again, as if planning the next move in some game of strategy. ‘I think a landscape garden. We could return the space to nature. A few shrubs and some grass would require no work at all.’
‘On the contrary,’ she said. ‘The natural look of such a garden is an illusion. The plantings, the rocks and little streams all must be carefully thought out.’
‘We will see what God provides,’ he said, ignoring her words. ‘Surely you do not think you can improve on His work.’
‘I do not seek to improve on God or nature. I simply…’
‘And those big stones at the bottom of the hill,’ he said, shaking his head in disapproval. ‘Pagan things. I have never liked them. I shall have a farmer come with his horses and pull them down. We shall have a folly instead. A ruin of some sort…’
Did he know what had happened there? Had he seen? Or did he simply guess how important they were to her, especially after last night? ‘They are very large,’ she said cautiously. ‘And very old. I would hate for someone to be injured trying to dispose of something that can’t even be seen from the house.’
‘It can be seen from the bench at the end of the garden,’ he pointed out, smiling unpleasantly.
‘Oh.’ Suddenly, the room felt cold. She refilled her teacup and reached for the sugar bowl. But she could feel his gaze, heavyand disapproving, watching each move she made. Had he been hinting that he’d sat on the bench last night, waiting for her to return? She retracted her hand and drank the tea plain.
Later, when they were almost finished with the meal, there was a knock at the front door. If it had been Percy, he would not have bothered to knock. But Thomas might. The sharp rat-tat of the knocker had her imagining a man with a firm character and a sense of purpose.
Taking care not to seem too eager, she set her napkin aside and rose to answer it.
‘You needn’t bother,’ he said, reaching for another piece of toast. ‘I have instructed the butler to turn away any callers. We have had quite enough company for the week. I wish the house to be quiet, as I like it.’
‘All right,’ she said mechanically, wondering if there was a chance she could get to a front window in time to see who it had been. She emptied her cup and rose.
‘Where are you going?’ he demanded, suspicious.
‘To the morning room to write some letters,’ she said. ‘I thought, perhaps, I might write to Percy…’
‘You do not know where he is, do you?’ he said, his smile turning wicked.
‘He was talking about going to Bath,’ she said, grasping for an answer that made sense.
