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Turning to her side, she tucked her hands under her chin and brought her knees to her elbows. She traced her finger over the edges of her scar at the base of her chin. If only she had never been scarred in that fire. Perhaps she could have made a match with a different man, one who might have loved her. Instead she had made a quick enemy. Percy Wellington could never love her. That she wasabsolutelysure of.
CHAPTER6
Fanny found her own corner a week later. She hadn’t left her room for any reason other than to eat her meals—which she brought to her own room on a tray—and wander the house ever since she and Mr. Wellington had argued in the library. She had felt too guilty taking food only for herself, so each day she had dropped a tray on the floor beside Mr. Wellington’s chair in the library and walked away. He hadn’t even thanked her. She had met the two maids that remained in the house. One was named Diane, a tall, thin, middle-aged woman who spoke very little and seemed to be irked by Fanny’s constant prattle. The other was Jane, younger than Diane, with round cheeks and a tiny mouth that was always pursed in a firm dot. Jane didn’t enjoy Fanny’s company either.
Still avoiding her husband, Fanny decided to keep to herself again and ventured outside for a walk. It was cold for the end of August, with crisp breezes ruffling her skirts and tossing her unpinned hair. She smelled rain. The grounds of Wellington Manor were truly beautiful, dotted with flowers and neatly trimmed bushes. Towering trees surrounded the house on the east side, making her feel trapped, even though the hills on all other sides of the house were free and expansive.
It wasn’t difficult for Fanny to imagine Mr. Wellington’s staff leaving him. He was so disagreeable. He had likely refused to pay them or threatened to have them whipped. She was surprised that any of the staff had stayed at all. But as she swept her gaze over the beautiful property, she was glad the groundskeeper had.
After wandering for several minutes, she ended up back on the west side of the grounds near the main level window where she knew Percy sat in his library. She stopped, bewildered. A tiny gateway led to an uneven path flanked by tall bushes packed tightly with yellow flowers and white roses. The gate was cracked open, so she stepped inside. The stone path declined steadily, curving sideways and making the library window appear to be much higher above than it had been before. The small sanctuary of flowers was filled with all her favorite smells. Fanny studied the different flowers in awe as she walked down the path.
The bushes came to an end, opening the space to a little bed of flowers and herbs. She bent over, recognizing peonies, tulips, lilies, and to the side, a small lilac bush. Fanny leaned closer and smelled them, closing her eyes to enjoy it. Lilacs had always been her favorite flower. Perhaps she could use them to make a new perfume.
A branch rustled behind her. She jumped, turning fast at the sound. A man was standing several feet behind her, leaning against a shovel as if it were a cane.
“How do you do?” The man asked, throwing her a smile.
Fanny tried to turn her head away so this man would not see her scars, but surely he already had. Feeling defensive, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Who was he? She eyed the gardening tool and the dirt on the knees of his trousers. “I am well enough,” she said. “Are you the groundskeeper?”
“Indeed, I am. What do you think of the gardens, ma’am?” He was still smiling, and Fanny found that the expression flooded her with relief. The only friendly face she had seen in the last week had been that of her lady’s maid, Molly. The groundskeeper appeared to be near the same age as Percy, but with lighter hair and dark eyes. His smile was tipped more to one side, and his hair fell messily over his forehead.
“It is quite beautiful. You have done well with it. It reminds me of the garden at my previous home,” Fanny said.
“And is this your home now,” he said with a nod of his head, making that blonde hair slide over his brow. He looked concerned by her solemn expression. “I shall call you Mrs. Wellington then. You are a brave woman.”
Fanny sighed. “Foolish is more like it.” She glanced up at the side of the house. The window of the library was directly above the gardens, propped open. She lifted her bonnet for an unobscured view, unsure of what she saw. Yes, Mr. Wellington was still sitting beside it. He could likely hear their conversation from the opened window.
“Have you been long under his employ?” Fanny asked, keeping a sideways glance on the library window.
“Only a year.”
Fanny smiled. “Well, you certainly keep the grounds in pristine condition. You do your work well.”
He gave another lopsided grin. “I put forth my best effort, I assure you.”
She turned away, slightly unsettled by the warmth in his gaze and his handsome face. “I do wonder…may I take a basket of lilacs? I would love to use them for perfume or as decoration in the house.”
He took a step toward her. “Of course. And you needn’t ask me for permission again. Every single one of these flowers belong to you.” He lowered his voice. “And I daresay you would look lovely with any of these flowers in your hair.” He slipped past her, brushing against her skirts. Fanny’s face flooded with a blush. She eyed him as he began working on the flower bed and plucking weeds from the soil. His compliment was absurdly improper and bold coming from a servant. And to his master’s wife, no less.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wellington,” he said with a nod. “This garden is yours to enjoy at any moment. I shall keep it in pristine condition, just for you.” The groundskeeper smiled and clipped a fully bloomed lilac from the bush beside him. He extended it to her and placed it in her hand. She met his eyes, self-conscious of her appearance. But he was still smiling at her.
“What is your name?” she asked.
His eyes flitted to Percy’s window. “You may call me Mr. Gregory.” He flashed another winning smile. “Go on, put it in your hair.”
She looked down at the little purple lilac in her hand and laughed nervously. She lifted it to her head and positioned the stem behind her ear.
“You have proven me correct,” he said. “That flower compliments your complexion perfectly. You might consider wearing a flower in your hair at all times.”
She took a step back, giving another uncomfortable laugh. Surely he was simply being friendly. She glanced up at the window again, seeing Percy’s face. What would Percy think of his groundskeeper’s potential flirting? Was it flirting? She was a married woman now. She should not have been enjoying it, but she realized with a speck of guilt that she did. Percy had likely been listening the entire time.
“Well, Mr. Gregory, I will leave you to your gardening.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you for keeping it in such fine condition.” She turned to leave, suddenly eager to escape the company of this mysterious, friendly man.
Fanny turned to look at him one more time before hurrying out of the gardens. Heat tingled on the tips of her ears as she stepped through the gate and back to the open grasses of the property. Despite her every effort, a smile pulled at her lips. What a kind man Mr. Gregory was. And charming. Very charming. Fanny smiled again. If her husband didn’t care to speak with her, at least the groundskeeper seemed quite eager to.
She made her way to the shade of a tree near the edge of the property. Before leaving the house, she had sneaked a book from Percy’s library that she had planned to read while enjoying the lovely weather. But when she sat down on the neat grass, she couldn’t help but think of Mr. Gregory and how much care he had taken to trim it. Why hadn’t Percy been more like that man? Did Fanny not deserve to have a kind, caring man as a husband? Percy was precisely the opposite. Cold, detached, and positively rude.
She laid her head back on her arm and closed her book. Her mind was racing with too many thoughts to focus on reading. She stared at the branches above her, at the leaves that twirled on their stems with the breeze. What if Percy perceived her the same way she perceived him? Had she given him any reason to find her agreeable? All she had done was pester him and argue with him. He needed a friend. At the very least, she could pretend to enjoy his company. But the problem was that he didn’t want her anywhere near him. She had insulted him the last time they had spoken. She had been horribly insensitive. It was no wonder why he had shunned her.
