Font Size:  

Sometimes Artemis wondered if Phoebe was as sanguine about her situation as she was with hers.

“Penelope is closer in age to you than me,” she pointed out as they neared the doors to the south terrace. Most of the guests had decided to stroll the garden after luncheon. “Watch the step here.”

Phoebe nodded in thanks, carefully placing her slipper-clad foot on the marble step. “Well, but Penelope hardly counts, does she?”

Artemis threw her companion a quick, amused glance. She wasn’t used to Penelope being the one disregarded between the two of them. “What do you mean?”

Phoebe squeezed her arm and lifted her face to the bright sunshine outside. “She’s nice enough, but she has no interest in me.”

“That’s not true,” Artemis said in shock.

Phoebe gave her a world-weary look that certainly did not belong on her girlish face. “She pays attention to me only when it occurs to her that it might help her campaign for Maximus.”

There wasn’t much to say about that since it was uncomfortably true. “Then she’s more foolish than I thought her.”

Phoebe grinned. “And that’s why I’m so glad you’re here.”

Artemis felt her lips lift. “Here are the steps down to the garden.”

“Mmm. I can smell the roses.”

Phoebe turned her head toward a trellised rose a few yards away. Unlike the rest of the primly pristine garden, the rose was rather wild and weedy looking, more suited to a cottage garden than a formal one. There was no reason for it to be here… except for the near-blind girl beside her, happily scenting the air.

“Can you see anything?” Artemis asked low.

The question was so intimate it verged on the rude, but Phoebe merely tilted her head. “I can see the blue sky and the green of the garden. I can see the shape of the rose bushes over there—but the individual flowers are lost to me.” She turned to Artemis. “I’m much better in bright light. For instance, I can see that you’re frowning at me right now.”

Artemis hastily put a more pleasant expression on her face. “I’m glad. I’d thought that you’d lost more.”

“Indoors and at night I have,” Phoebe replied matter-of-factly.

Artemis hummed to show that she’d heard. They started down one of the graveled garden paths. She’d bypassed the garden in favor of the woods this morning. Now she found it pleasant to meander in the afternoon sunshine—though of course she was properly gloved and bonneted.

A peal of laughter turned heads.

“Lady Penelope?” Phoebe asked, leaning close to Artemis.

“Yes.” Artemis watched as Penelope tapped Wakefield flirtatiously on the arm. He was smiling down at her. “She’s getting on well with your brother.”

“Is she?” Phoebe asked.

Artemis glanced at Phoebe, wondering. Phoebe had made it plain in the past that she didn’t think Penelope the best choice for her brother, but of course she had no say in the matter. Was Phoebe worried that she’d have to move out of her brother’s house if Penelope married Wakefield?

“Here’s Miss Picklewood,” Artemis told her companion as they approached two ladies. “She’s in conversation with Mrs. Jellett.”

“Oh, Phoebe, dear,” Miss Picklewood called. “I was just telling Mrs. Jellett that you’re the one who manages the garden.”

Phoebe smiled. “I only maintain the garden. Mother was the original designer.”

“Then she had quite an artistic hand,” Mrs. Jellett said promptly. “I do envy you the space you have to work with. My Mr. Jellett left me only a small garden at our country house. Now can you tell me what this elegant flower is? I don’t remember ever seeing the like.”

Artemis watched as Phoebe bent and felt the flower before giving a quite academic lecture about the plant, its origin, and how it had come to be growing here at Pelham. Artemis was a bit bemused. She hadn’t known her friend was so interested in gardening.

A wet nose thrust itself into her hand and at the same time Miss Picklewood chuckled. “Percy seems quite taken with you. Usually he never leaves Maximus’s side.”

Artemis glanced down at the hunting spaniel’s adoring brown eyes and ruffled his soft ears. She was surprised to see that Bon Bon was by the bigger dog’s side, pink tongue hanging out as he panted happily. She looked up. The duke was escorting Penelope on the far side of the garden. “Where’s Mignon?”

Miss Picklewood pointed to where the little spaniel was nosing under a boxwood. “She doesn’t much like the larger dogs, unlike Bon Bon.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like