Page 71 of Miss Devon’s Choice

Christian, still puzzling over her subdued nature, reassured her. “Not at all. But I thought we could use the time before dinner to search out Hestia.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Of course. Let me think. There are Greek statues in the greenhouse, but they are all quite small. The larger statues are in the gardens. Do we know what she looks like?”

At least she hadn’t released his hand. He used this connection to tug her forward and down the hall, to a door that would take them into the gardens. “She is usually depicted as wearing a veil. Sometimes sitting on a low throne, sometimes standing by a column with fire. Or she holds a dish of flame.”

Rebecca nodded absently, her expression full of faraway thoughts.

Trying not to worry or give way to disappointment that she hadn’t enjoyed the surprise he prepared for her, Christian turned his attention to the gardens. Had he misunderstood something about her relationship with her other family members? Had the day been miserable for her instead of refreshing and joyous as he’d hoped?

Biting the insides of his cheeks, Christian kept searching the greenery for the statue of a Greek goddess. Of course, he’d guessed that the riddle given by the earl could apply to Hestia without any real proof that was what the earl meant.

“How was your afternoon?” his betrothed asked.

Christian slowed his steps and glanced down at her. Rebecca continued to stare into the distance, and she indicated no real interest in the answer to her question.

“It was fair enough,” Christian answered, watching her from the corner of his eye. “Ajax and I went riding rather than shooting. We took a tour of the countryside.” He had actually spent a great deal of the time thinking about her. About what he wanted, and what she offered with her determination of loving him. He’d spent hours trying to clear his head enough to form a plan, to make up his mind as to how best to undertake his marriage, but all his thoughts had stayed full of her laughter, her smile, and their single kiss.

He’d realized, sitting in the middle of a meadow with Ajax asleep in the grass beside him, that making Rebecca happy wasn’t enough. Protecting her from her father wasn’t enough.

He’d sent her on her way, trying to give her what she most wanted, and then spent the entire day missing her.

Several times, Christian had nearly given up his lone wandering to go to her. He’d liked her family, had even felt at ease among them. But she needed time with her sisters, with people who cared about her, without him hovering at her side like a dark shadow.

“Did you enjoy your time with your family?” he asked, stopping to peer up at a Greek statue of a woman holding a vessel of some kind over her shoulder. It didn’t look like the correct goddess, so they continued on.

“I did, very much. Thank you for arranging it.” She spoke formally and created a polite distance between them with her tone, when all he wanted to do was slip his hand through hers and make his confession to her, tell her all that was going on in the war between his heart and his head. But her change in manner confused his already turbulent thoughts.

Christian stopped when they came to a place where their brick path divided into three sections. One path would take them down the hill and to the lake, another further back into the hedgerows, and the third would weave its way through the more formal gardens. “Which way, do you think?” he asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

After a pause, Rebecca pointed to the formal gardens. “I doubt a goddess of hearth and home would be found further away from the house. We should search in the roses.”

“Roses?” He reluctantly released her hand when she went forward ahead of him.

“Lady Annesbury, the earl’s mother, loves roses. And Virginia said that her mother-in-law is responsible for the design of the gardens.” She barely turned to speak the words over her shoulder.

Following behind, studying her carefully, Christian wondered if he’d offended his betrothed. She had always, without exception, sought him out first. Spoken first. Guided the conversation.

“Which are your favorite flowers?” he asked, a step behind her.

“Hollyhocks,” she answered without pause.

Christian tried to remember which those were. “Are they the tall ones, with flowers coming off one shoot? Pink?”

Her steps slowed and she looked at him askance. “Or white, or red, or yellow. But yes. They’re tall. When I was a girl, sometimes I would get a clipping from my mother. She told me they were fairy wands.” Her cheeks pinked and her deep brown eyes grew thoughtful. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to know more about you,” he answered, the words honest, his heart reaching out to her while he kept his hands firmly at his sides.

“Oh. Really?” She raised her eyebrows at him and appeared puzzled. “You haven’t asked very many questions before.” Then her cheeks flushed darker and she whirled to continued down the brick path, her steps faster this time.

He hurried to keep up with her, wondering how absurd they must look, walking at such a pace through such a beautiful garden. Hopefully, there weren’t many guests spying at their windows. Most would be preparing for dinner at this hour.

Rebecca rounded a particularly large and well-trimmed rosebush, and when he came around it he nearly ran into her. She stood still, her head tilted to one side, examining a statue in the middle of a fountain.

“I think we found Hestia,” she said, pointing.

The fountain was perhaps ten feet in diameter, with three tiers each pouring water into one another before the final dropped into the main body of water. At the top of the tiers, a stone woman reclined on a low seat, a loose veil covering the back of her head, and in her lap she held a basin of artfully carved fire.

The basin was at least nine feet above the ground. Christian narrowed his eyes at it, then looked around the rest of the garden, searching for any place the clue might be hidden. Rebecca must have had the same idea, as she was walking around the fountain, her eyes sweeping from the pool of water to the roses surrounding them. Christian went around the other side and when their paths met she shook her head.