Chapter 25

Percy could not delay any longer, though he had been conjuring up imaginary issues since breakfast—a missing cravat, a lost boot, a very important document. But the carriage was now packed, and he had no further reason not to leave.

“Sinclair, where are you?” Max’s voice echoed in the hallways.

Percy froze, for he had been searching the rooms, hoping he might ‘bump into’ Anna so that he might say goodbye one last time. They had not parted ways at the Orangery in the way he would have liked, and he sought to remedy that.

Noting the garden doors that led out from the Sun Room he had entered, he tiptoed toward them and let himself out. He would be found, of course, but he was not quite ready to give up the sanctuary and comfort of Harewood Court.

A pathway of crushed shells and pristine white gravel guided him through fragrant walled gardens, bursting with wisteria and roses, and around to the rear of the manor. Up ahead, he saw the glinting structures of the greenhouses and potting sheds. The ideal place to steal a few additional moments, perhaps an hour, before Max finally forced him to go.

“Anyone here?” he called out, as he opened the greenhouse door, and was blasted by a smack of thick, humid air.

He listened intently but heard no sound coming from within.

Satisfied, he proceeded into the greenhouse, admiring the neat soil beds where new blooms were growing well. He smiled at the sight of orchids in bloom, wondering if Anna would accept his apology this time, if he were to pick some for her, or if she would rip them from his hand again.

At the far end, there was a little stone fountain and a couple of wrought-iron chairs. He went there directly, and sat down, closing his eyes to enjoy the earthy aromas all around him and the warm caress of the air.

Once he had inhaled his fill, he glanced back over his shoulder to make sure he was truly alone and drew out the letter that had arrived for him that morning. He already knew who it was from, and with a sigh, he opened it and began to read:

Dear Brother,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I am not certain if the address is correct. I have it on good authority that it is, but perhaps not.

You see, I am becoming more desperate, Brother. It is imperative that you respond to me, for it is growing closer to the date when my life will change forever, and your assistance is needed. I understand that you feel you owe me nothing and, ordinarily, I would not dare to make a demand of you, but in this instance I must insist. I do not wish to take drastic measures, so I hope that, this time, I shall hear from you.

Yours Sincerely,

Norman

“Judging by your face, that must be good news,” a voice said, snapping his head up so fast that his neck twinged.

Anna stood halfway down the greenhouse, lazily trailing her fingertips across the fragrant leaves of a tomato plant. Percy looked behind her, to see if one or both of her brothers were with her, but no—they were alone again. A dangerous situation, he realized, that was no less dangerous in her own home.

His heart was already pounding.

Slowly, he folded the letter back up and slipped it into the pocket of the waistcoat he had deigned to don. “It is nothing of merit.”

“If so, why have you gone so pale?”

“Have I? How strange.”

She took a step closer. “Why are you leaving, Percival?”

“Because I must,” he replied, though every fiber of his being longed to stay exactly there, in that greenhouse, with her. Even if he boiled to death. “My estate requires my supervision.”

She nodded to his waistcoat, making him aware that he still had not buttoned up his shirt to the neck. “Is that what the letter pertained to? Your estate?”

“In a manner of speaking.” It was not a complete lie. His brother was, technically, part of that. Not in any beneficial way, much to his stepmother’s outrage, but he was still a son of the deceased duke. If anything were to happen to Percy, Norman would inherit.

Anna nodded, lowering her gaze to a woodlouse that scuttled across the ground. “Well, have a good journey.” She paused. “I just came to say that I do not believe I will be able to find a match for you. Until I know the damage that has been caused by the revealing of my secret, I suspect I will not be doing much matchmaking at all. However, as my brothers now know my secret too, our bargain would be null and void anyway.”

“Perhaps, that is for the best. I did not favor Lady Joan all that much in the end,” he replied, hating the stilted air between them. “Not that it is for the best that you will not be matchmaking. In truth, I think that is a travesty.”

Anna raised her gaze. “Why so?”

“One would not ask that question if it were a mysterious, benevolent physician who had been revealed.” He smiled. “And it is always a great loss when someone loses their purpose. I do not put much faith in society, generally, but I do hope they see sense in regard to you.”

With a small nod, Anna gestured back to the other end of the greenhouse. “Well… farewell, Percival. I should not stay any longer, for if my brother were to find me here, I suspect he would not be happy.”

“What will you do with the rest of the summer?” Percy asked, rising from his chair. Anything to keep her there, for it seemed probable that he would not see her again. Not until the London season began, perhaps.

Anna shrugged. “I expect I shall read, I shall wander, and I shall visit friends.”

“I borrowed a few books of yours,” he said, approaching her. “I hope you do not mind. I will send them back to you as soon as I am done.”

She seemed surprised. Or horrified. “You borrowed a few of my books? I believe one is supposed to ask permission before one borrows anything.”

“You were not here.” Percy paused. “Well, you were not here, and then you were here, but I had already packed the books into my belongings.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Which books?”

“Pride and Prejudice, The Mysteries of Udolpho, and Le Morte d’Arthur.” He closed the gap between them until there was barely a step. “I thought I ought to see what all the fuss was about, and as I shall have very little to entertain me at Granville House, I expect I will have time to read them.”

Her chest began to rise and fall as if she had run a great distance. “But… you think my books are silly. Why would you choose those? Why not borrow one of Max’s mighty tomes of science or history?”

“As I say, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he replied, reaching out to take her hand. “Perhaps, I may find that they are not silly after all. That is, if you will oblige me by allowing me to lend them.”

She glanced down at his hand holding hers, her gaze flitting back up to meet his as she gave the smallest of nods. “If you do not like them, I do not want you to say anything. Pretend you did not read them at all, if you must.”

“Very well.” He bent his head, entirely aware that she wore no glove, as he pressed a kiss to that soft, delicate skin.

He wished he had the nerve to kiss her lips once more, but after the chaos of the last time, he thought it best not to. But that did not mean he would be able to stop dreaming of that moment, imagining it with a happier sort of conclusion. Indeed, if he thought he was worthy of her, that he could truly make her happy, he would have made a confession there and then.

A shiver seemed to ripple through her, her breath catching in her throat. “Percival, I want to ask you about the Orangery.”

“I do not think we should speak of it,” he replied quietly, for if he began, he would not be able to stop.

Max’s warning rang in Percy’s head. He was already disobeying his dearest friend, for this was the very opposite of keeping his distance. And if he were to confess and be rejected, he knew he would lose everyone who was precious to him in one single moment. His pride would recover from saying nothing, but it would not recover from being cast out from yet another family.

I would rather keep you as an annual friend than never see you again.

“Let us forget it, as you said you had already,” he said.

Anna shook her head. “But I want to know why you?—”

“Sinclair, where the devil are you?” Max’s voice boomed across the gardens, jolting Anna and Percy apart as if a wasp had gotten into the greenhouse and stung them both at the same time.

Percy put a finger to his lips and pointed to the rear door of the greenhouse, closest to the stone fountain and the wrought iron chairs. Wide-eyed, Anna nodded, and hurried toward the exit, slipping out into the safety of one of the estate’s ornamental gardens just as Max pulled open the other door to the greenhouse.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, frowning.

Percy withdrew the letter from his pocket. “Just reading this and deciding whether or not to burn it.”

“Another one from your brother?”

Percy nodded. “I do not know how he keeps finding out where I am, but no matter—I am leaving now, and it ought to take several weeks before he discovers I am back at Granville and not here.” He stowed the letter away again. “If any letters should come in the meantime, feel free to toss them in the fireplace.”

“Listen, Sinclair, I thought that I might accompany you to Granville,” Max said unexpectedly. “I hate for us to part like this, with any animosity between us, and I do not feel comfortable with the thought of you being there alone. Considering everything, I could stay for a few days, while Dickie and Anna amuse themselves here.”

The hinges of the greenhouse door squealed again. “There is no way you are going to that dismal ruin without me,” Dickie announced. “A place as desolate as that needs some cheer, and I am the king of good cheer. Let us pack several crates of fine wine and liquor, a host of delicacies, and why not bring the cook too? We shall make a celebration of it.”

Percy’s head span as the opposite door opened and Anna burst in, declaring, “Well, no one is leaving me behind! If we are making an adventure of it, then I shall be joining you. Indeed, I think it would be best if I am where no one will expect me to be.” She fidgeted with the ribbon above her waist. “But I have one proviso—you must journey by way of Westyork.”

“I was not offering out invitations!” Max bemoaned, hissing out a breath of frustration. “Dickie, do you see what you have done?”

Dickie shrugged. “It will take precisely one hour before dearest Anna changes her mind and wishes to return here. She has not seen the condition of Granville House, but we have.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “And once she has been safely returned here, finding Granville most unpalatable, then we can enjoy a gentlemen’s holiday.”

“Are Phoebe and Olivia at Westyork?” Max asked, clearly harried.

Meanwhile, dread sank like a stone into the pit of Percy’s stomach. The last thing he wanted Anna to see was his residence, for Dickie was not wrong in his assessment of the place. It had been a terrible home in his youth, and the rot of a father and stepmother who hated him now showed upon the walls and gardens and rooms within.

Anna nodded. “They are.”

“Then, here is the compromise. You may accept it and come with us, or refuse it and remain here,” Max said firmly. “You can accompany us to see Granville House, but if I deem it unsuitable for a lady, you will go to Westyork to reside while Dickie and I help Sinclair grow accustomed to his new home.”

Percy shook his head. “I can already assure you that it is unsuitable for hosting ladies. Perhaps, it would be better if I were to go alone.”

“Nonsense,” Dickie interjected. “Anna, what do you say?”

Anna straightened up and lifted her chin in defiance. “I agree to these terms, though if anyone has any right to deem what is suitable and unsuitable for a lady, it is me.” She hesitated, bowing her head to her oldest brother. “But, of course, I will abide by whatever you say.”

“Then, it is settled.” Max seemed neither relieved nor displeased. “Have the servants pack and assemble whatever you feel we might need, and we shall leave by…” he checked his pocket watch “… two o’clock.”

Percy stood there as the three Dennis siblings left the greenhouse, wondering how such a decision had been made without his permission. Then again, there was a small part of him that wanted to see what Anna made of his residence, and his curiosity was greater than his desire to protest.

Perhaps, he might even hear the end of the question that she had been about to ask about the Orangery. And perhaps, with no hope toward her feeling the same way, he might muster the nerve to tell her that it was the one thing he would never regret.