Chapter Thirteen

Howard had received his share of attention from the girls his age when he’d been a young man. He’d puffed up a bit when he’d caught any of them watching him. Experiencing it again now was proving quite enjoyable. Robbie had stood at the tall windows at the back of the house, one story above the ground, for quite a while that afternoon. Though he suspected she might have set her gaze on other things as well, he had every confidence she’d been watching him. Watching him with pleasure , he hoped.

The evening was waning on, and he alone was in the garden, finishing his work for the day. Robbie had abandoned her post, but he had not forgotten the joy of seeing her there. The smile simply refused to leave his face. He suspected she wasn’t the sort who grew quickly or frequently lovestruck. The same could be said of him. And yet how quickly his heart had grown fond of her, something he felt certain was mutual. The idea kept him inwardly grinning as he saw to his tasks.

Amid his smiles and tasks, the object of his pleasant thoughts arrived in the garden, with a basket hanging over one arm. “You never stopped for tea,” she said.

She had been watching him. Howard let the corner of his mouth tug upward.

“I suspect you’ve not paused for your evening meal either.” Robbie made her way closer to where he stood, basket swaying in time with the edges of her dress.

“I’ve not had a moment yet to return to my carriage home and fill my belly.”

Robbie clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I hope I’m not to discover you’re one for neglecting your health in favor of your work.”

“I’m not, generally.” He dropped his voice the tiniest bit. “But I’ve had a rather fine distraction today.”

Two splotches of color answered that bit of flirting. “I’ve found myself a wee bit distracted today as well.”

“Have you?”

Those bewitching eyes of hers danced even as she clearly fought a smile of her own. “I filched a few things from the kitchen and brought them out with me.” She held the basket up. “You’ve time for a bite to eat, I hope.”

“That’d depend a great deal on whether I’d be eating alone.” Lands, it’d been a time since he’d flirted so shamelessly. Truth be told, he was enjoying it.

“I could send the dog over,” Robbie said, tossing him a bit of a saucy look. “Pooka’s fond of a meal, I’d wager.”

“Not at all what I had in mind.” Howard chuckled and did his best to clean the dirt from his hands with his far-from-elegant handkerchief. “Have you time enough for a bite to eat?”

She smiled at last. “I’d planned to eat with you, assuming you wanted me to.”

His hands as clean as they were likely to get, he tucked the bit of well-worn cloth into his waistcoat pocket. “I’d fancy having a meal with you, Robbie MacGregor.”

“Then I’d suggest you find me a place to sit that’s not muddy.”

“I know just the spot.” He held his hand out to her.

She set her hand in his without hesitation or uncertainty. That hadn’t happened in ages, not since he was a very young man with so little to offer that even holding hands with him was seen as a comedown for any young woman.

He led them from the garden he was building to a nearby corner of the lawn where a wooden bench waited to be sat upon.

Robbie placed the basket on her lap and pulled back the cloth tucked into the top of it. “Cook had a couple of meat pies she let me sneak off with.”

“Is our little duke taking his meal with Lord and Lady Jonquil?” Howard knew little ones generally ate in their nursery with their nursemaids. He couldn’t imagine the unconventional lord and lady of this house allowing such a thing.

“He is,” Robbie said. “And quite pleased with himself over it.”

“And I’m quite pleased to be taking my meal with you .”

Robbie looked up from her basket. “When I first met you, Howard Simpkin, I’d not have believed you had a knack for velvety words.”

“I can’t say I’d been prone to them before meeting you.”

“And I hadn’t near so much love for gardens,” she said, handing him one of the meat pies.

“It’s the gardens you’re fond of?”

An obvious war being fought between her instinct to smile and her apparent determination not to, Robbie asked, “What else could I possibly be fond enough of to drag a basket of meat pies from the house?”

“Give me a chance this evening,” he said, “and I’ll see if I can’t sort out the answer to that question.”

“I think I’d like that.” She took out her meat pie, then set the basket on the ground beside them.

“What else do you like, Robbie?” Howard truly wanted to know. He liked everything he’d learned of her and felt certain he would like everything he’d yet discover.

“The smell of rain,” she said. “Thick-sliced bread. Clotted cream.”

He nodded slowly, remembering all those things with pleasure of his own. “I haven’t had clotted cream in ages. But the smell of rain...” He sighed. “I know that well.”

“I’d wager at times you’re not terribly pleased that rain’s falling.”

He laughed lightly. “Ill-timed rain isn’t a favorite of mine, I’ll admit. But rain that comes after a garden’s completed is, in my estimation, the best sort of sign. The rain will make the garden bloom.”

“Does it ever make you sad that you aren’t there to see those gardens bloom? You do so much work, but you don’t get to see it.”

“Planting isn’t about what’s happening in the moment; it’s believing in the future.”

They’d both been eating their pies as they talked. Her expression turned thoughtful, but she’d only just taken a bite and didn’t say what was on her mind.

“Does your little duke enjoy gardens?” he asked. “It might do him good to find something hopeful in the future with so much sorrow in his past.”

She swallowed. “I can’t say he’s spent much time in gardens. My wee boy gets overwhelmed quickly by unfamiliar things.”

“So long as I’m one of those ‘unfamiliar things,’ I suspect he’ll not overly take to me.” He could not possibly have mistaken the wariness His Grace felt, but the boy had seemed to like his little carved horse. That might help a bit. “We made some progress during our Christmas celebration.”

“It seems to me Christmas is magical no matter when we celebrate it,” Robbie said.

“Did you enjoy our Christmas festivities?” Howard asked.

She smiled at him. “I did indeed. Greenery and stories and wassail.”

“And the company of a delightful gardener, of course.” He winked at her.

Robbie smiled as wide as the River Tyne. “I’ve not been winked at since I was sixteen years old.”

“Accustom yourself to it. I mean to keep right on winking at you.”

They sat side by side that way, touching from shoulder to knee, happily eating their humble meal, making light conversation in the quiet of evening. It was a fine way to spend a quarter hour.

“What have you left to do in your garden tonight?” Robbie asked him after they’d finished their meal.

“It’s not my garden,” he said with a smile. “Not really.”

“You designed and built it. You made it beautiful, and beautiful in a way that lasts. That’s owing to you, and that gives you a claim to it that can’t be taken away.” It was, quite possibly, one of the kindest things a woman had ever said to him.

“If that’s true, then I have fine gardens all over the kingdom.”

“Quite the landowner, you are.” Robbie rose, her smile seemingly permanent. She turned to face him. “What’s left to be done in your garden tonight?”

He stood as well. “Only putting away my tools.”

“Can I help you with that?”

Even if she couldn’t have done a single thing to assist in what little remained to be done, he’d have told her she could. Howard hadn’t ever been one who fell to pieces when separated from people he missed, but he had a sense of that changing, of his need for Robbie MacGregor, growing stronger by the day.

He didn’t know how much of her company he had left to enjoy, but he meant to claim every bit of it she’d allow.

He walked with her hand in his own back into the garden he was building, pleased as plums at the approval he saw in her eyes when she looked at all he’d accomplished.

“Would you mind too terribly if I wandered down this way in the evenings?” Robbie asked. “I’ll bring you your supper and help you with what I can.”

“Having you here to end my day would be the greatest Christmastime present I can think of.”

She smiled at him. “You’ll remember it’s not actually Christmas.”

“And yet I’m certain I’ll look back on this not-actually-Christmas celebration as my favorite Yuletide of all.”

Quite without warning, Robbie pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “So will I.”