Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.

—Frances Hodgson Burnett

F eet planted apart on the brick terrace amid the Lyndons' garden, Edward crossed his arms over his chest. He sat up taller where he perched on the wooden stool while he pondered the answer to Veronica's question, leaning back a tad to keep his balance. He'd nearly caused her to throw him out by using the wrong word when he'd said he had a proposal. The feisty woman had curbed her temper and let him stay a bit longer, but he didn't want to scare her with poor ideas for their outings. Talking to her felt like holding a butterfly. Best to pace his answer slowly, though he couldn't blame her one bit for feeling the way she did.

"We have a family dinner tonight. The Phoenix Stakes is tomorrow. We may as well fill in a few of the other days." He caught sight of the extra easel beside his stool, and he dropping his arms, sat up straight. "Seeing that we both enjoy oil painting, I could acquire another canvas in town, and we could paint for a few hours some morning next week."

"You like to paint?" Her brow arched as if she didn't believe him. And the surprise in her tone told him they needed to remedy not knowing much about each other even if they would only become better friends in the end.

Come to think of it, he hadn't mentioned anything of note about himself in the letter he'd sent ahead of his visit. He'd kept it short, but now seemed a good time to remedy the faux pas. "I have a garret art studio at both of our family residences."

"Surely, you jest." She smiled at him for the first time, the loveliest of smiles he'd ever seen. "I'm sure I have an extra canvas you could use..."

He'd worked hard to earn her smile, and for a moment, it took his breath away. The way her light-pink lips shimmered in the sunlight with some kind of glossy cosmetic, for a moment, he wondered what it might feel like to kiss her. He dismissed the thought and heard himself say, "Maybe we could go on a picnic and horseback riding some other day."

"You know I won't turn down an opportunity to go horseback riding, and I do dearly love picnics. A carriage ride might be nice one afternoon." Another smile played on her lips.

"That sounds good. I have to admit, I'm enjoying my time in the country. I can see why you love it here, Miss Lyndon." His eyes came to rest on a white trellis where rich purple morning glories and their curling vines twined. Rose blooms spread velvety petals toward the sun in shades of yellow, orange, and bright pink. A hint of fragrant spring blossoms hung in the air, and a pair of white doves with silvery wings fluttered in the branches of a dogwood, cooing contentedly. He could stay there the whole day, enjoying the tranquil garden. "But do you enjoy going into the city occasionally too?"

"Of course. One has to do a bit of socializing and partake of local culture."

"All right. How about attending a play at the theater and dining out in Lexington one evening?" He would look forward to seeing her dressed in an evening gown and spending a few hours over a fine meal discussing theater.

Veronica nodded. "Those outings seem sufficient. I suppose if we become bored in the company of our parents and siblings, we could spend an evening reading books in the library, and I might consider playing the piano sometime, but I'm not as proficient as I'd like to be. Do you like to sing?"

"It pains me to admit that as much as I enjoy it, I'm better at reading the notes than I am at singing them, but I do try, and I could turn the pages on the sheet music for you." He grinned, heat rising up from his collar. "My love for music reaches far and wide."

Her sweet laugh resembled a delightful melody. He hadn't seen this side to her until now. "I like our plans." She paused, and her smile diminished. A serious look replaced it. Then she spoke gently but with firm resolve. "I will agree to most of the outings we've discussed for the sake of keeping our parents from pestering us, but mind you, I have no intention of marrying anyone right now. I'm enjoying my life as it is, and I plan to make my parents face the truth at some point."

Edward, on the other hand, couldn't see a way out of his father's plans, but as he, too, felt trapped, he could agree to all she'd said. At least they'd not waste a chance to get to know each other a little better. "I feel much the same way. An arranged marriage isn't my idea of a good way to begin a lifetime commitment."

"What time will you pick me up for the race tomorrow?" She pursed those pink lips that shimmered in the sunlight.

"Does eleven o'clock sound good? I heard the activities begin around noon and last most of the day." Hopefully, the weather would cooperate. He didn't relish spending tomorrow drenched by rain or seeing the horses race on a sloppy track, but they'd have to make the best of it no matter what the weather might do.

"Eleven o'clock is fine. We can dine at the clubhouse between races if you like," she suggested.

Edward rose. "A meal at the clubhouse sounds wonderful." Best to keep their garden meeting short before he ruined his success. He would see her again at dinner. "Well, I'll be on my way. Can you tell me where I might find your father? He promised to show me more of the farm today." If he hurried, he could make the noon appointment with a little time to spare. "We only toured the horse barn and livestock barn yesterday before my father grew tired."

"Ah, yes. He's probably in the library, but he could be out with our jockey, Charlie Ford, discussing Gunpowder Fury's chances for the race tomorrow. The first door on your left before the front door." She swiveled on her stool and pointed behind her. "See you this evening."

He bowed slightly. "See you then."

His heart pounded as he left her there. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing her in such peaceful and beautiful surroundings, doing what he most loved.

The Kentucky debutante tantalized him with her love for art, her vivacious beauty, and her temperamental ways. Completely different from ladies in New York. Maybe a glimmer of hope for them existed, after all. He'd hold onto that for now. One step at a time…

But what if, after three or four outings, he fell in love with her…but had to return home without her agreeing to marry him? Would he have a broken heart on top of bearing the burden of responsibility for his family's downfall into poverty if he didn't find a way to win her hand? His father would heap loads of blame on him if he failed.

E dward arrived in a rented carriage with two beautiful horses to pick Veronica up for the Phoenix Stakes Race, driving them with ease to the Lexington Association Track on the east side of town. Their first date—if she could refer to it as such. The rain held off, and he asked her more about the races and what they did to prepare their stallion for the day.

The ride passed pleasantly enough. Then he escorted her to the clubhouse where Lexington's most notable families feasted at linen-covered tables while wearing their finest fashions, catching up on the latest news. After a long winter of the residents being cooped up at home, the clubhouse fluttered with excitement, the clanging of forks, and a constant flow of conversation as waiters dashed about to deliver gourmet meals to their guests.

Most of her family had arrived earlier and had already eaten with Rupert and Mr. Beckett. They greeted Veronica and Edward before heading out to the stands to observe the horses, leaving the counterfeit couple to themselves. All four of her grandparents stopped at their table before they placed their orders, and Grandmother Spencer winked at Veronica, causing her some embarrassment when she said, "You've captured a fine gentleman, Veronica. When's the wedding?"

Veronica flushed, but Edward only chuckled good-naturedly, taking the remark in stride.

"Don't mind my grandmother. She simply wants more grandchildren," she mumbled, watching her grandparents retreat to their box in the stands with the rest of her family. Hopefully, others hadn't heard the bold remark, but her sisters had. They cast her apologetic looks and shrugs as they hurried away to catch the next race.

On the arm of an eligible bachelor so impeccably dressed, and a mystery to Lexington society at that, Veronica drew a great deal of attention. She dutifully introduced Edward to the Sullivans, the Breckenridges, the Picketts, the Harpers, and everyone else who mattered or wanted an introduction. Even Henry Sullivan stopped at their table and shook hands with Edward, forcing her to admit to herself how much smarter, more self-assured, and more fashionable Edward looked in comparison.

Edward kept the conversation moving along nicely during their meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, buttered green beans, rolls, and salads. He asked about her favorite horses for each of the day's races, asked how they'd selected Charlie Ford to become their jockey, and paid attention to the important families from the area when introduced. Most of all, everyone liked him. It all tugged on her heart, leaving her struggling with remorse that she had rejected him when, in fact, he behaved like a perfect gentleman.

Then, joining their families in the grandstands, they cheered on Midnight Sunburst to a second-place finish. In the next race, the biggest race of the day, the glorious moment when Gunpowder Fury crossed the finish line to take first place left them all elated. Two victories in one day had everyone floating on clouds of joy. How proud Father looked to have two of their finest steeds place as Charlie bounced along in the saddle to congratulate the second-place winner atop his horse, a champion called Freezing Frank. Even their horses seemed to know they raced in front of important family guests, urging Veronica to consider her future and her choices carefully.

After the race, Veronica and Edward slipped away from their families and the crowds so he could return her to Velvet Brooks.

Edward stopped her with a hand to her arm before they exited the gate. "Would you like to return home in the carriage or the Runabout?"

Her eyes went wide. How did he know she did actually want to try out the new contraption? Yet she quirked her brows together. "But the carriage is waiting outside in the parking lot. How would we retrieve the Runabout?"

"It's parked in the hotel's lot, so we could have a bit of fun and exchange them if you like before leaving Lexington. The livery for the horse and carriage is right next door…"

She flashed him a grin. "Let's do it."

Once tucked inside the Runabout, she held on for dear life. The ride made her laugh as they took the curves and turns on the country roads while pushing the machine to its limits whenever it seemed safe to do so. By the end of the drive, she had to admit she'd thoroughly enjoyed their day together. The best part—he promised to let her drive the shiny red automobile sometime before returning to New York.

B efore the Sunday morning church service began, Veronica glanced over her shoulder to spot Edward quickening his pace and making a beeline in her direction with his brother and father. He reached the area where she sat and proceeded to nod politely at the other gentlemen buzzing around in the center aisle near the end of her pew, all of them making polite conversation with her about the previous day's race. Upstaging all of them, he leaned close and asked if he could have the honor of sitting beside her. Of course, she said yes, since their parents would appreciate their efforts to get to know one another.

Once he'd settled into the hard wooden pew, the other gentlemen sulked away. He whispered in a low voice, "Shall I put my arm around your shoulders?"

Veronica's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "My parents will think it's much too early for something of that sort," she whispered. "Plus, they won't believe it's a genuine gesture. You've only known me for a few days."

"All right, then, maybe next Sunday."

"Maybe next Sunday." She kept her eyes on the empty pulpit while she waited for the pastor to step into his place and lead them in the song portion of the service. Had she detected a little eagerness in Edward's voice? A tingle of anticipation stirred within, surprising her.

After church, he offered to drive Veronica to Velvet Brooks in his Runabout while their families piled into two of her father's carriages to take them home for the midday meal. Grandmother and Grandfather Spencer and Grandmother and Grandfather Lyndon—called Colonel Lyndon by all who knew him—would join them. Though she loved them dearly, their presence only reminded her of their deceitful ruse. She shoved the thought aside, too weary to contend with it. After all, her parents had pushed her into her current dilemma. What else could she do?

Once everyone had gathered around the dining room table, they feasted on a meal Willamena prepared consisting of a first course of chilled oysters, followed by a second course of creamed asparagus soup. The gentlemen landed on a discussion about the price for a bushel of oats, but she only listened with half an ear, praying none of her grandparents would make remarks about what a handsome couple they made. Or worse, asking when the wedding would take place.

Martin and Grace began serving the sliced cucumber and onion salad course while a crystal relish tray circulated around the table. Veronica once again sat directly across from Edward near the middle of the table. Her grandparents flanked the far end, the younger folks in the center. Mr. Beckett and her parents kept the conversation flowing from the head of the table.

No, she wouldn't send any eggs flying this time. It would only distress her grandparents. She had narrowly escaped a reprimand from Mama for her behavior at their first meal together, and she certainly knew better than to think she would escape a second display of temperamental antics. Instead, she should pay attention to the conversation and try to behave now that she and Edward had arrived at a plan of their own. Never mind the fact her conscience twinged frequently about the ruse.

"Your twenty acres of oats would fetch a fine price at forty-nine cents a bushel if you didn't have all of this fine horseflesh to feed," Mr. Beckett remarked to her father. "At least you don't have Rupert at your table too. He loves his oatmeal every morning."

"Father…" Rupert shook his head.

"I'm grooming the boys to take over my place at the firm one day. Edward shows great aptitude there. Of course, he will also eventually inherit our coastal vacation home. There's a real threat in that since I suspect he will retreat to his painting at Chesapeake Manor when I'm dead and gone. But you see, I have a plan." Mr. Beckett held up a finger even as Edward shifted in his seat. "Edward will need to entice Rupert away from his veterinary pursuits so Rupert can run the company when his brother is painting."

"You have one thing right, Father." Rupert leaned forward to look at his father from his seat. "Edward is the mathematical genius in the family. He can predict which stocks will do well before I can. He should inherit the entire stock-trading business, and I should find clients who need my veterinary expertise near our South Carolina estate. Tell us, Edward—how much would Mr. Lyndon profit if he sold all twenty acres of those oats out there in his fields?"

Edward cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. His brow furrowed in concentration. "Let's see. Twenty acres at an average yield of seventy bushels an acre, which I only know because Mr. Lyndon told me he expects about seventy bushels per acre this year…that's about thirty-four dollars and thirty cents per acre at forty-nine cents a bushel, times twenty acres. You'd profit six hundred and eighty-six dollars or about seven hundred dollars if you sold the whole crop."

Veronica gulped. How quickly he rattled off those numbers. Edward was a mathematical genius compared to her struggle with figures! But Rupert's argument did little to help his brother's plight. From what she could tell, a man who very much enjoyed being an artist also existed inside Edward. Maybe Rupert's desire to escape a life of office work overshadowed any of Edward's ambitions. Apparently, he thought since Edward was the elder brother, inheriting the family stock investment business should fall to him instead of both of them.

But did she observe some degree of surprise on Mr. Beckett's face? He recovered quickly, offering a mere grunt.

Rupert's ploy contained a weak approach. If he had used an example pointing to Edward's artistic ability, and if he had insisted their father recognize his love for veterinary work, maybe they could all put their heads together and find someone else to handle the stock trading. He might have convinced his father to reconsider, but he had only cemented the fact that Edward's grooming was perfect for taking his place at the helm of their New York business.

The main course came out next, a traditional Sunday roast. Along with it, sliced tomatoes, green beans, and early spring peas. But Veronica barely noticed the delicious meal wafting beneath her nose as Martin set a plate before her. She felt sorry for Edward and Rupert—sorry for how both of them were trapped at their father's stock firm in the city.

By the time Martin and Grace began serving slices of apple or peach pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and coffee or tea, Veronica's heart ached for Edward's predicament. She'd begun to see a side of him she hadn't known existed.

She must keep her empathy at bay. They had only agreed to an alliance to thwart their parents, but the more she discovered about him, the more likeable he seemed. She had best keep her heart and mind in check.