Page 48 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

He nodded. “Yes. Though I’m most interested in rare things, new discoveries, or how to grow exotic species in our climate. The pineries at Hawkney’s home was a place I found fascinating as a boy.”

She smiled. “That’s why you loved the orangery here too.”

“Yes. I find anything exotic or out of the ordinary intriguing. I was thinking of travelling next year, heading down to southern Europe to collect samples and seeds.”

“To grow here?” she asked, her expression one of such respect that happiness surged in his chest.

“Yes, if I can, though I shall need to buy a place with a garden, which I’ve not had time to do. I’ve actually been considering somewhere close to Little Valentine, for the south-east coast is warmer, of course, and so might make life easier.”

“Oh, what a marvellous idea! A tropical garden in East Sussex,” she said, sounding so delighted Nat felt he ought to bring her back to earth.

“Well, hold on, pet. I’m no Francis Masson, and gardens take years to come to fruition. It might all come to naught if nothing takes.”

“Pooh!” Meg said crossly. “If you have a passion for something, you’ll make it work. I have learned that much about you, for I’m here, pretending to be your fiancée. And this is something that matters to you, a dream to bring to life. I think it’s marvellous, Nat. I really do, and how exciting to see so much of the world and perhaps discover a new plant or tree! Oh, how I envy you. I hope you will send me news of your adventures, perhaps with illustrations so I might share in the journey a little?”

She had lit up with excitement, her eyes glowing with admiration, and she spoke so passionately herself, with such enthusiasm, Nat could only gaze at her. Since being placed in no doubt of his father’s opinion of his interest, Nat had never dared share his dream with anyone, but to see Meg grasp at once the joy to be found in such a voyage, the excitement of collecting and bringing home things that no one had seen before in England, it shook him to his core.

A vision appeared in his mind’s eye of Meg standing on a foreign shore, white sand all around her, and the glittering Mediterranean Sea spread out behind her. It seemed a crime that she should never get to share in his adventures when she was the one person he’d ever known who felt as he did. But she never would, she had said as much. Even if she had the money, she would be too afraid to travel alone. So she would discover things secondhand, with his badly scrawled letters her only window onto a world she would never see. His heart hurt at the thought.

She could travel with you, murmured a little voice in his head, if you married her.

“Nat?”

Nat blinked, belatedly realising he’d not said a word for some time, and she was staring at him in consternation.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I was woolgathering.”

“Dreaming of exotic plants in far-off places, no doubt,” she said wistfully. “I can’t blame you. When will you go?”

Nat turned to look at her. She was staring down at the illustration of the pear tree, but he sensed… something. Had that been regret in her voice? Would she miss him when he went? But that was foolish, their little ruse would be long over by the time he was ready to travel.

“I’m not sure. It depends if I have any luck finding a property, I suppose. But, if all goes well, late spring, or the early summer.”

She nodded. “I’ll be working by then, educating bright young minds. I shall use your voyage as an instrument, then I can cover geography and languages and natural history all at once. They’ll be so enthralled they won’t even know they are learning,” she said brightly.

Nat felt the words brewing on his tongue as Meg turned, her smile a little too wide for him to believe in. “Meg?” he began, his heart thudding very hard.

“Now, then. I was going to find something terribly old and boring to read to you,” she said, hurrying away to the shelves and sliding the ladder along the racks. She glanced over her shoulder, sending him a playful look. “Let me see if I can send you to sleep.”

She climbed up and began perusing the shelves, and Nat let out a shaky breath.

Good Lord! That had been close. What had he been thinking? They hardly knew each other, and he wasn’t about to get married! That was for the future, when he was ready to settle down. He had still to do his exploring, and he couldn’t drag a wife around on such a journey, and he didn’t want to. He did not want a wife. Not yet. That was literally the point of her being here, to avoid getting leg-shackled, and here he was almost ready to offer himself up like a sacrificial lamb. Damned fool.

He sat down again, staring at the illustration of the pear tree, of the fruit cut in half so the seeds were visible. That was how he felt with Meg, as if she could cut him in two and inspect the little kernels of truth laid bare inside of him. It was both marvellous and terrifying, and he wondered how on earth he would get through the next few weeks without doing or saying something extraordinarily stupid.

Well, get through it he would. Meg was a wonderful girl, clever and beautiful and kind, and they seemed to get along very well, but they were friends, partners in crime—or at least in subterfuge. He must ensure she was safe and happy, that much he insisted upon or else he’d not be able to sleep for worrying about her, but once she was settled, well, he’d go off on his travels knowing she was taken care of. It was a shame she would never see the world, obviously, but she was a girl, and girls simply couldn’t do such things. A rotten pity, but that was life, and he couldn’t change it. He certainly would not marry her just so she could see the Mediterranean.

Yet then he remembered her reaction upon seeing the sea for the very first time when they had arrived here and his heart lifted, her surprise and joy so touching he still felt the imprint on his heart.

Nat groaned inwardly. He was doomed.

Meg glanced up at Nat as they walked to the vicarage for tea. Della and Vinnie walked behind them, chattering good-naturedly with Miss Percy, whom they had invited to join them, but Nat was strangely quiet today. She wondered if she had offended him somehow, though he seemed thoughtful rather than out of sorts.

He’d been fine when she had met him in the library, and she had been delighted to discover this new side of him, his dreams of creating a garden from discoveries he’d made and seeds and plants he’d collected on his travels. It showed that there was far more to him than he allowed most people to see, and she had felt a surge of pleasure in knowing that he trusted her enough to allow her to share in his private pleasures.

Ninny! You know exactly what the problem is, she told herself crossly. Hadn’t she gazed up at him like a besotted schoolgirl when he’d told her about his ideas for a garden, for his intention to travel around collecting exotic fauna? No wonder he’d looked so ill at ease when she had spouted with such unalloyed excitement about his plans, as if they were anything to do with her!

He must have guessed that her feelings for him were changing almost hourly. The poor man must feel dreadfully awkward, fearing that he had unwittingly caused her pain. Lord, did he fear she might hold him to this absurd betrothal? Surely not! She cringed inwardly at the idea that she might have to reassure him she would never do such a thing.