She twitched her nose. “The conservatory again. The scent is lovely, but there was no need to make me close my eyes.”
“Yes, there was.” He led her in front of the workbench where the recently arrived plants sat. “You can open your eyes.”
“What are you—Good Lord!” She clamped her hands on her mouth. She surveyed the collection with an expression that could be mistaken for sheer horror. “That’s a leopard orchid. The one that looks like pouting lips is a psychotria, and those are cat’s tails. That one is a middlemist red camellia. I can’t believe it. It’s the rarest flower in the world. A ghost orchid! A fire lily! It grows on the ashes after a fire and is considered a symbol of endurance and hope. They must have cost a fortune.”
He could afford it, and the expense was well worth her smile. “All for you. The glass house is yours. And you can decide what plants you want to grow in our gardens.”
She strode from one side of the table to the other, tilting her head to watch the plants from different angles and spouting bizarre names.
“There are seedlings as well.” He gestured at the bags with labels on the floor.
“Thank you.” She hugged him, pressing her body against his. “This is fantastic.”
He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled her scent. “I’m glad you like them. I want you to be happy here, to feel at home. I know you don’t love me, but perhaps with time, you won’t consider me a terrible choice for a husband.”
Sobs shook her, and the happy hug turned into her sagging against him for support. “You aren’t a bad husband. You’re kind and generous, and I’m very happy to be with you.” Her voice came muffled.
Yet she sobbed, her whole body shaking.
“Don’t cry.” He caressed her head. “I hope it’s a cry of happiness.” He handed her his handkerchief.
“Sorry, sorry.” She wiped her eyes. “The gift is fabulous, wonderful. I’m crying because of the surprise. Beautiful surprise. Yes, it’s happiness.”
He cupped her face. “You’re shaking.”
“It’s that…” She drew in a long breath. “You’re wonderful while I’ve been horrible to you.”
“No, you haven’t.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “You’re one of the few people who are always honest with me.”
She cried harder. “No, I’m not.”
“Everyone has secrets, but I know you don’t care about my scar or my title. I’m only Anthony for you, and that’s all I want. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m happy.”
She hugged him again with desperation as if she were hugging him for the last time.
* * *
Emotions tuggedat Isabella in two different directions. There was absolute delight at her brand-new set of plants; they were more precious than the ones in her parents’ house. But she found it hard to stop the tears.
Anthony had to think she was hysterical. One moment she laughed; the next, she cried.
Only the tenderness for Anthony remained though. Her heart burst with it. After she examined the plants again and made sure they were all right, she went upstairs to her room but came to an abrupt halt before entering it.
A couple of maids were emptying her armoire and chest of drawers, supervised by the Dowager.
Lawson clasped her hands over her chest. “I couldn’t stop them, madam.”
“What’s happening here?” She stepped into the middle of her bedroom.
Trunks and boxes filled with her gowns were scattered around.
“There you are.” The Dowager glanced at her. “It’s time you dress properly as a duchess does.”
“I don’t understand.”
