Page 6 of A Figure of Love

“Mr. Lockheart, may I present Mrs. Lombard.”

The tall, well-proportioned Adonis took her hand and made a perfunctory bow over it.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, madam.” His eyes were slate gray and the most opaque Serena had ever seen, observing her without a hint of interest or any other emotion. His lips, sinfully lush and shapely, bore no trace of a smile.

He was perhaps a head taller than she, his dark blond hair on the longish side. Like Sandy, he was dressed informally to accommodate her lack of evening dress, in a bottle-green coat, rich brown waistcoat, and buff pantaloons tucked into coffee-colored Hessians polished to a blinding shine. His snowy white neck cloth was tied with simple elegance; he wore a plain gold watch with no fobs at his waist. His clothing had been made by a master and tailored to fit his form as snuggly as a well-made glove.

“Thank you for inviting me to Rushton Park, Mr. Lockheart.”

He nodded abruptly and glanced at his watch, his sensuous mouth turning down slightly at the corners. “There are still seventeen minutes until dinner.” He looked up, his gaze flickering over Serena’s untouched sherry to Sandy’s empty glass. “What are you having, Featherstone, I will refill it.”

“Ah, thank you, sir. Brandy.”

He took the glass without speaking and went to the sideboard.

Sandy smiled at her and gave a slight shrug. So, her prospective employer was a gloriously handsome man who was also brusque and without social graces. Well, she had heard he was different.

“I daresay Jessup has informed you Mr. Beech will not be here for dinner,” Sandy said, his flickering eyes proclaiming his discomfort with silence.

“I received his plans by courier. We will proceed without him,” Lockheart said. “After dinner we will examine what he has drawn up.” His voice was as devoid of expression as his face. No irritation, regret, or anger at Beech’s absence. He returned to where they were seated and took a chair across from Serena after giving Sandy his drink. A double, if Serena was not mistaken.

He fixed Serena with his rather unnerving cool gray stare and took a sip from his glass. His hands, like his person, were slim, elegant, and devoid of jewelry. Serena had expected the stereotype merchant, a beefy, bluff man in his later years. But Lockheart not only resembled a gentleman, he spoke like one, too. While his accent was not exactly aristocratic, it was refined and precise, definitely not that of a man said to have come from the stews of London. There was more here than met the eye.

“I understand you inspected the property this afternoon, Mrs. Lombard.”

“Nothing so thorough as an inspection, but I did wander as far as the stream and then along the small wood.”

“And did you have any ideas?”

Serena chuckled. “I always have ideas.” She smiled at him, but he only blinked calmly back at her. So, he was lacking in humor. She tried again. “My understanding was Mr. Beech would submit a general design and I would see to the details and statuary.”

“It is true I have engaged Mr. Beech to create a plan. Have you designed and laid out gardens yourself?”

“Yes,” she admitted, surprised by the question. “But never anything as large as this.”

“What would you do if it were yours?”

Now that was an interesting question, and one she had never been asked by any other client, most of whom had had their own ideas, many of them quite bad.

“I would lay out a parterre directly off the orangery. Beyond it, I would leave things as they are. I believe the terrain on the south side, with its gentle slope, is similar to Badminton and would be perfect for a Brown-like lake, which could be achieved by some clever damming of your stream. Right now there is an old wooden footbridge over the stream. I would replace that with something more interesting.” She smiled. “Naturally I would recommend something in stone. If you wish for a folly there is a nice rise on the far side, and once you’ve created a lake it would be a lovely situation with the addition of a few trees. A rose garden, with a walk to the woods on the east side. You have the two cour d'honneur that face the drive and they could be given greenery, a fountain, more roses, intimate seating areas. Of course I did not inspect anything beyond the immediate area and could see more of the estate, more quickly, if I had a horse.” She paused. “But those are my first impressions and what I would consider if it were mine.” Serena took a sip of claret and never took her eyes from her host, whose expression had not flickered while she spoke. He was not an easy person to talk to; he gave no facial or physical cues to put the speaker at ease. He sat silently for a long, uncomfortable moment, as if considering her words, and then nodded.

“It sounds perfect.” He turned to Sandy, who again had his glass raised to his lips. “Will you recall everything Mrs. Lombard said, Mr. Featherstone?”

Sandy gulped down a mouthful of brandy, coughed, and set down his glass. His eyes slid in Serena’s direction and then snapped back to his employer. “If I do not, I’m sure Mrs. Lombard will be able to tell me in greater detail.”

Mr. Lockheart turned back to her. “You have several ideas I approve of, ma’am. Would you be able to implement such plans without further consultation with Mr. Beech?”

Serena’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you asking me to design your gardens and park, Mr. Lockheart?”

“Yes.”

“But haven’t you an agreement with Mr. Beech?” Serena would hate to gain a reputation for poaching commissions.

He continued to regard her with his flat, disorienting gaze. “I have not engaged Mr. Beech, but asked for his bid. He would not go uncompensated for the work he has done. Is Mr. Beech your only objection to accepting such work?”

“I have no experience with anything this large.”

Still he did not speak.