Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

F or as long as Harrison could remember, the trip to Dorset had taken three arduous days, but inside the carriage with Phoebe, they passed in a besotted blur. If Harrison was not coaxing his wife to new heights, he was sitting beside her as they read Ivanhoe , or holding her close while they dozed. In any other circumstance, the long trip would have been unbearable, boring and monotonous, but with Phoebe by his side, he had found that time held little sway over him. He found himself looking forward to their carriage ride each morning nearly as much as he enjoyed their nights at the inns, excited to see what the days adventure would bring them to.

When the carriage finally drew to a stop at the Everly estate in Poole, Harrison mourned the loss of their quiet retreat, a small haven where only the two of them existed, but Phoebe’s excitement lessened the sting. As soon as she exited the carriage, a smile graced her beautiful mouth as she took in the whitewashed manor before her. Cunston Gap had been in the Everly estate for nearly a century, the home acting as a refuge for generations of earls and their families. Hot London summers were but a distant memory as soon as one stepped out into the salty sea air, the lush green fields and copse of trees appearing like something out of a fairy tale, sans nymphs and sprites. The look of joy on Phoebe’s face only further proved that his choice of destination was not only ideal, but exemplary.

“Do you like it?” he asked, taking her hand and placing it on his forearm.

“Very much.” She looked around, her eyes scanning the landscape before her. “I wonder what the gardens look like.”

Harrison smiled, rubbing his hand against hers. “I thought you might be interested. Would you like to freshen up or would you rather go on an exploration now?”

Phoebe smiled at him, her joy contagious. He had little care for the gardens of the property, nor the insects that buzzed around, choosing to make it their home, but the knowledge that it would make Phoebe smile, her eyes alight with wonder… Well, he very much cared about that.

“Let’s freshen up first and then explore,” she said.

After washing off the dirt and dust of their travel, Harrison dressed in a simple pair of trousers and cotton shirt sleeves, choosing to forgo a jacket and tie. An old pair of boots covered his feet, ones he did not worry about sullying, and a simple straw hat that he borrowed from the stable master sat atop his head. To the London set he would no doubt look ridiculous, but he knew Phoebe would care very little on his appearance. And when she met him in the hallway, a simple blue striped dress and straw bonnet gracing her person, he knew he had the right of it.

“Ready, love?” he asked.

She paused, her eyes moving from the boots on his feet to the hat on his head. “You look like a farmer,” she said with a smile.

Harrison raised a brow and stepped toward her, one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “A farmer, am I?” Taking her hand, he placed it on his chest, her fingers gripping at him as soon as she touched fabric.

She laughed. “If a farmer wore a pair of scuffed Hessians and some very well-made trousers, then yes, you’re a farmer.”

Harrison took off his hat, doffing it as he dropped into a low bow. “Well then, if my lady will have me, I’d be honored to show her about my land.”

Phoebe took the hat from his hand and placed it back on his head, tilting it upward so she could see his face. “If you’d be so kind,” she said, kissing his cheek before taking his hand and leading them to the outside.

Harrison had never paid much attention to the gardens. Until observing them with Phoebe, he had never noticed how the back portion of the home appeared more forest than well-manicured garden, the shrubs and trees not so much overgrown, but lush and full, wild in their appearance. Birds chirped a happy song from somewhere while a few fluffy bees dipped from flower to flower in a search for pollen.

Phoebe squeezed his hand, and Harrison released her from his grasp, slowing his pace as he watched her buzz from one spot to another inspecting the greenery, her smile wide as she followed one bee and then another to different areas of the garden, her leather boots scurrying this way and that. He watched as she gave attention to a collection of blooming Dorset heath, then skipped to a vine of honeysuckle, her finger brushing at a pink petal. She slowed as she spied a small bird bath, a starling perched on its edge taking a drink, and with quiet steps, she walked around past it, determined to let the bird have its peace.

On her face he saw the same expression she had exhibited at the bookstore, a beautiful combination of joy and wonder as she attempted to take it all in. As if a clock were ticking somewhere in the distance, counting down the minutes until she would be removed from a place she could no doubt stay at forever. Here there were no crush of bodies, no boisterous noise. There were no rules or regulations determining the amount of emotion she could display. Here in the garden, with him, she was free to be Phoebe. Able to enjoy each moment, to chase each thrill to her hearts content.

Swallowing, Harrison looked away from the sight, pulling the brim of his hat lower to shield his gaze. What must it be like to be so free with yourself. To embrace who you are fully, without fear or worry that you would become a disappointment. Without anxiety plaguing you that you are not doing enough.

“There must be a hive nearby,” Phoebe said, calling from several beds away. “There are so many at this one patch.”

Harrison turned to her, his practiced smile at the ready on his face, but the sight of his wife sitting in a patch of orchids sent the false attempt away with speed, a smile of genuine delight taking over. In a puddle of flowers, Phoebe smiled as she watched bees buzz around her, a cabbage moth flying with effort over her head. Dappled sunlight fell across her hat, its beams of light casting a heady glow on her as she sat in splendor.

At that moment, he wished he were an artist, able to capture the beauty of the moment before him. Wished he were a composer, capable of compounding the heartbeats and serenity that flowed through him as he watched her. His lack of skill was so glaringly apparent in that moment, when all he wanted to do was form a memory of it so detailed, so finite, that he could take it out and look at it whenever he liked. This woman was becoming home for him, a safe place filled with honest joy and warm comfort. A place where he could simply be Harrison, as he was meant to be.

“How are you not afraid?” he asked, walking toward her.

His wife, sitting like the queen of the forest, smiled at him as if he were a dolt. “Don’t be silly. They can sense I’m not a threat just as I know they are not one.”

“If only that were true,” he said, the words softly floating away on the wind.

“Hmm?”

Harrison shook his head. “Come along, Titania. We have more to see.”

“More?” she asked, taking his proffered hand.

Harrison pulled her to standing, guiding her out of the garden bed and back to the stone path. “More,” he said, lacing his fingers with hers. “You don’t think I brought you out to Dorset for meat pies, do you?”

She frowned at him. “Honestly, yes.”

He laughed, kissing the back of her hand. “Oh, ye of little faith. You shall think me a knight in shining armor after today.”

Guiding her down the path, they strolled following the trail as they weaved in and out of the grounds, the melody of the birds filling the comfortable silence. After a time, they came to a gate. A low ivy wall in the shape of a rectangle shot out at either end, enclosing the space and the items inside, which just so happened to be hives. A small shed stood guard in one corner, filled with the required gear for the estate’s beekeeper.

“You have bees?” she said, the words whispered as she leaned over the wall, peaking at the four Huber hives that sat inside.

“We do,” he said with a smile. “Do you like your surprise?”

Phoebe nodded enthusiastically.

“We also have a beekeeper who ensures the hives are well taken care of. He renders the old wax which is used to make candles for the estate, and the honey that he does gather is either stored in the cellars or shared with the community.”

She pushed up onto her toes as if the added height would allow her to see more. “How long has the estate done this?”

“As long as I can remember. I’m fairly certain the family decided to follow in the regents’ footsteps and adopt every aristocratic notion that they have. Hence the bees.”

Phoebe nodded. “That makes perfect sense.” Dropping back down to her heels, she turned to face him. “I’d love to speak with your beekeeper if he has a free moment.”

Harrison smiled at her, tucking a strand of hair the blew across her lips behind her ear. “I sent a missive to Mrs. Kenneths weeks ago and she has already set up a time for you within the coming days so that you may pick Mr. Cole’s brain with any bee related questions you might have. I’ve also informed him about the feisty hive and it would seem he has some rather interesting insight into what can be done.”

She smiled at him. “You knew I’d want to talk to him?”

Bending his knees, Harrison lowered to Phee’s eye level. “I did. It wasn’t just the steak and kidney pies of Dorset that made me think you’d love this place.” Cupping her cheek, Harrison rubbed his thumb along her lips. “I knew you’d fall in love with the estate which is why I suggested it. Knew you’d see that gardens and the hives and suddenly begin to make plans for your own in London. I knew your eyes would light up the minute you saw this place, knew your mind would race with future plans.” He leaned forward, brushing his lips across the space his thumb had just occupied. “Knew you’d be so eternally grateful to your husband that in the time you weren’t scheming and planning that I’d be able to convince you to be naughty with me.”

She sighed against his lips. “How devious,” she said, pressing her mouth against his.

“Always when it comes to you.”

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Harrison pulled Phoebe in close, his tongue slipping along the seam of her lips. It was all the invitation she needed as she opened to him, her tongue meeting his in a dance as her hands rose to his hair, knocking the hat from his head. They were in a public space, person or animal free to view them as they wrapped themselves around one another. He should be more circumspect, at the very least slightly ashamed at how brazenly he flaunted the physical relationship with his wife. His mother would have had fits if she were to learn that he was seen pawing the newly appointed countess in the open for all to see, unthinking and uncaring about what someone passing by might think. But with Phee’s lush body pressed to his, her sighs of contentment filling his ears with its beautiful sound, he cared if neither bird nor beast saw them at that moment. Let them look. Let them gaze at the earl with envy. For in that moment, everything was right. And he was damned well going to enjoy it.