Page 65 of Lyon of Least Resistance

But his wife had not discarded it, or tucked it away in a remote corner. She’d given it pride of place on her bedchamber wall.

With renewed hope, he slipped outside, closing the door quietly behind him, then returned to his bedchamber.

Chapter Sixteen

“Come and see the rose garden, Cordelia. Do come! They’re the prettiest roses in England!”

James couldn’t help smile at Margaret’s lust for life. Almost rude in her enthusiasm, she exclaimed over everything as she encouraged Cordelia to try the bacon from Mr. Walton’s farm, which she declared to be “the best bacon in the whole country,” and the marmalade that was “the tastiest in the whole wide world.”

“Meg, slow down!” James said, suppressing a laugh. “You’ll wear my wife out on her first morning here. Do you want her to think we’re poor hosts?”

“We’re not Cordelia’s hosts, James. We’re her family. Is that not right, Cordelia? You’re my sister, are you not?”

Cordelia smiled, her eyes glowing with joy—a joy to match that in James’s heart as he saw her cheeks, which were so pale last night, glow with health.

“Yes, Margaret,” she said. “Now—how about you show me your favorite rose? There’s so many different ones, but I’m sure there’s one you prefer over the rest.”

They entered the rose garden and James’s heart filled with pride. On a bright summer’s day such as this, the garden was at its finest: Vivid reds and yellows shimmered against the glossy, dark green foliage and the air was filled with a soft, sweet scent and the low, delicate hum of bees.

Heslop, who was busying himself weeding the border around the sundial in the center, turned and touched his hat.

“Morning, Lord Bedford, sir, and Miss Margaret.”

He turned to Cordelia and James caught his breath. Would the gardener show disdain for his master’s having brought a doxy home? No doubt the servants had tattled about her background, given Georgina’s outburst, and everyone knew that gossip spread below stairs at ten times the speed it did above.

But, to Osborne’s and Mrs. Case’s credit, none of the staff mentioned it in James’s presence. He’d have ordered them horsewhipped and dismissed without a reference if they had.

But the fear still remained that Cordelia’s secret would come out, and that it would taint the Bedford name, ruining Georgiana’s and Margaret’s chances of marrying well.

“Heslop,” James said, “this is my wife, your new mistress, Lady Bedford.”

The gardener turned to Cordelia and tilted his head to one side, as if sizing her up.

Did he find her wanting?

Bloody hell—James couldn’t afford to lose Heslop. The man knew more about roses and worked harder than anyone. But the gardener was a stickler for propriety. And he’d been conspicuous by his absence yesterday when the staff had lined up to greet James’s wife.

Cordelia watched him, her features expressionless, save the slight furrowing of her brow.

Then Heslop removed his hat and bowed.

“Lady Bedford, ma’am,” he said. “You must forgive my absence when you arrived yesterday. I trust I gave no offense. It was my Molly, you see.”

“Molly?”

“Aye, my wife. Been married nigh on thirty years, we have. She was taken sick the night before last, and I dared not leave her, what with the ague that did in old Mr. Crippen, from Fircombe. I know I was expected here, but she needed me.”

“As it should be, Mr. Heslop,” Cordelia said, smiling. “I’d not expect a husband to do anything less for his wife. Your loyalty is to be commended. I take it she’s recovering?”

“I don’t rightly know, ma’am. She said this morning that I was gettin’ under her feet somethin’ bad, and she fair shooed me out of the place. But she’s a right bad cough on her. Kept me up all night, she did.”

“Then perhaps she’d appreciate a visit,” Cordelia said. “I used to keep a jar of honey and lemon that was excellent for easing a cough. I’m afraid I didn’t bring it with me. But perhaps Mrs. Vaughan might have something similar.”

“Is that from London, ma’am?” Heslop said. “I’ve not been myself. Is it as noisy and crowded as they say? I heard—”

He broke off and Cordelia flinched, her color deepening.

“Perhaps I can give you something to take to your wife, Mr. Heslop, if you’d rather I didn’t visit,” she said.