Her gaze flicked down – to a path of petals spread before her and she hastened along it to her central haven.
For all of this could only mean…
Here, the wrought-iron table had been set with crystal wineglasses and fine plates of repast while the chaise had a cosy blanket and cushions laid upon it and…and…she stared up, mouth agape.
Two divided glass windows had been set in the roof. Installed in just a day, for surely they’d not been there this morning.
Then she spied movement through the fig leaves.
Miles could not have felt more elatedat Verity’s wide-eyed wonder.
Hell, how he’d missed her: those eyes deep with autumn hues and her lips glistening like dew-laden raspberries.
He yearned to stride from the figs, but first he swivelled and–
Banged his head on a lantern hanging from a strut.
“Sorry, C’tain,” came a whisper. “Hung it too low.”
Miles clapped Lynch on the shoulder. “Thank you for all your work today.”
“Pleasure. We’ll all be at theWellington. Although…” He winked. “I’m sure yer won’t need us.”
Miles nodded and turned to Alasdair, seized him and hugged him hard. “Thank you, Cousin.”
“Don’t go all sentimental on me,” Dair grumbled but still hugged him back. “I only popped some flowers in a vase.”
“You did more than that. And I didn’t just mean for tonight.”
Dair’s lips curved, and with Lynch close behind, they endeavoured to extricate themselves from the greenery, ducking leaves and striving not to stand on trailing blooms. After winks to Verity, they followed the petal path to the door until…
“Coming Jeremy?”
From somewhere in the undergrowth, the elder Firth could be heard tinkering with his newfangled Swiss musical box. “O-one moment…” A key was wound.
Delicate chimes filled the conservatory.
With a grin, Jeremy emerged at Miles’s side, vigorously shook his hand, escaped the vegetation, gave a flourishing bow to Verity, and followed on to the door.
Miles parted the fig leaves and stepped forth into Verity’s sanctuary. “Alone at last.”
Whilst twirling and admiring the conservatory, his beloved had unbuttoned her pelisse – never a bad start – and so he marched over to aid with the sleeves.
“Oh, Miles, it’s all so beautiful. Thank you. And how on earth were the roof windows done in less than a day?”
He kissed her nape; her breath hitched.
“Regiment friends. Do you like them?”
“I adore them. I can see the first stars.” She stared around with eyes wide as pennies while the delicate chimes of the music box gradually slowed, each note stretching longer than the last, until the tune faltered and ended. “When did you get back from your estate? Was there much damage?”
Miles shuffled his boots. “Ah.” And looked to the roof struts. “I didn’t actually…go to the estate.”
“But the fire?”
“Forgive the deception, my Amaranth. But…there was no fire.”
A frown ruffled her brow. “Where did you go then?”
