Chapter 19

19

A ugust arrived, the landscape assuming the burnt look of late summer. Temperatures rose and Maryn spent the warmest days inside, trying to learn more about the duchy and, in idle moments, embroider. A letter came from her London publisher, telling her the Poet Laureate's newest play had been chosen over hers for the new theatrical season. She rejoiced privately. How could she begrudge the man she most admired?

One look at the calendar told her it had been over a fortnight since Orin's visit and business proposition. Her solicitor told her the matter would soon be finalized and had also sent her a letter informing her of the sale of Grandfather's London townhouse. She perused it now, every unbelievable line. The buyer didn't want the furniture nor the library. What did she want to do?

Not want the library?

She knew who would. Stunned, she sat back. But it would require her involvement once again. And inevitably her heart.

Maryn took a chaise to Wedderburn's gatehouse, driven from curiosity as well as a desire to deliver the good news in person. A written note would have sufficed and been far safer. But her heart won out. Just one more meeting, she mused, as the conveyance rolled onto Wedderburn land just beyond the old stone gatehouse.

Was Orin even at home?

For a moment she just stood in the shade of an old oak, savoring her surroundings, the place of countless past escapades. A dozen different things vied for her attention, the gatehouse's garden foremost. It's ivy-clad walls beckoned and she caught the scent of flowers where she stood.

No longer did the place look forlorn or uninhabitable. Orin Hume had already left his mark. Muddied boots rested near a side door. A cocked hat hung from a peg. A gardener was at work, so old and bent he didn't seem to notice her arrival as he weeded the knot garden. Along the gatehouse wall came a striped cat, its tail wafting regally.

She felt extraordinarily … at home.

"Your Grace." The voice behind her made her turn.

"Please, no titles," she said as she faced the man who seemed to occupy her every waking thought and some nights her dreams. "Just plain Maryn."

"As you wish," Orin said, gesturing to the garden's open gate. "That will be all for today, Hayes."

The old gardener straightened as Orin thanked him then gave Maryn a brief bow before he disappeared. She went ahead of Orin into the garden, trying to tamp down her delight. It was even lovelier than before. Interwoven pathways led to a back bench that faced a cascading fountain. A marble statue of a child holding an open bird cage still stood amid clusters of blooming, swaying lavender. Today, in the sunlight, the winged creature on the child's shoulder assumed a poignancy it hadn't before and reminded Maryn of Orin's poem.

She waited till they were both seated before she handed him the Edinburgh solicitor's post. "As fate or Providence would have it, here is your library should you so desire."

He finished reading, befuddlement on his features. "At what cost?"

"A gift." She smiled, joy bubbling up in such a soul-expanding way she nearly lost her breath. "If that shop of yours can hold five thousand volumes."

"If?" His own smile bordered on the incredulous. He looked at her, holding her gaze so long it seemed to signify something other than mere celebration. "You may have to sell me a second building."

"Apparently the new owner has an extensive library and no need for Grandfather's," she explained. "Since Lockhart Hall's shelves are full I'd rather see the excess go to a worthy cause such as yours."

"I dinna ken what to say." He looked at the ground, clearly moved. "A fortune in books."

"I'll have them sent directly to your door in Duns if you like."

"Nae better plan." His eyes met hers again. "Promise me you'll visit. I'd like for you to see the shop before it opens."

She bit her lip, lost in the thought they were both happier than they'd been in a long time. Since Herschel's death, perhaps. At least she was. She couldn't speak for Orin though he looked happy, his wide smile calling out all the wee lines about his eyes.

"Of course I shall visit," she finally said.