Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

G raham knew that Samantha would make changes to their home, but he had not expected to feel so much from a single view.

Doing nice things for the sake of being nice had not been instilled into him by his father, of course, but he had held onto such a trait nonetheless. At last, there was an opportunity to do something for his wife, and the inspiration came to him immediately.

Unfortunately, he was so utterly useless with floral arrangements that he could not do it himself, but he was determined to at least make an attempt.

"Davis," he said the following morning, approaching the gardener.

"Your Grace," he replied quickly, "if this is about the vines —"

"It is, but you need not look so concerned. I am here to thank you, not punish you."

"But your father —"

"It was not my father's room. It was my mother's, and she would have adored it. Believe me, you have done the right thing by listening to my wife. I have not come here to speak down to you but to ask a favor. I wish to do something for her in return, but I do not know what. Might you have any ideas? I was hoping to put something in the garden where she could see it from her window, perhaps about there?"

He pointed in the direction of the pavilion. It was in good condition structurally, but it had been left bare for so long that it was now a miserable sight.

"I certainly have an idea," Davis noted. "Leave it to me, and I shall handle the matter."

"But I was hoping to help," he sighed. "I want to do something nice for her, especially given all that she is doing for us."

"Then you can help me with the planning," he suggested. "Would you be able to find out her favorite flower for me? She seemed quite knowledgeable of them when we were speaking yesterday, and so I am quite sure that she will have one."

"How do I do that without relating it to the plan?"

"I do not know; that is why you are best to do it. If I ruin your surprise, it is my fault, but if you do it, then…"

Graham could not help but laugh with him.

"Very well, I shall do my best."

"But not cornflowers, if she says those," Davis said quickly. "She has already made me quite aware of that one."

Graham went to find his wife, who was sitting in the drawing room, and tried to find a way to broach the subject with her inconspicuously.

"Did you enjoy your morning in the garden?" she asked, and he was positive that he had turned white.

"I- well- yes, I did," he stammered.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. ‘You seem ill at ease."

Graham had never had an issue with keeping secrets before, and he cursed himself. Why now? It was not as though he was hiding something terrible from her after all.

"No, not at all," he said rather too quickly. "Only, it is terribly hot today. It must be making me feel strange."

"Then come and sit with me. Perhaps that might aid you?"

He seated himself beside her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as if instinctively. It was a new feeling, but he had to admit that he liked it a great deal. She felt lovely, as though she fit there perfectly.

"Davis was telling me of your love for cornflowers," he said carefully.

"Oh, they are lovely, are they not? So delicate and yet so blue."

"Are they, dare I ask, a favorite of yours?"

"One of them, yes, but not my most favorite. That would have to be hortensias."

"That is… an interesting choice."

They were not Graham's favorite. They were strangely large and small at the same time and too round to be considered dainty and floral as he believed a flower should be.

"I like that the flowers themselves are so very small, but together they make something bigger. It is like people, do you not think? On our own, we are these tiny little beings, but together, we make this great strong thing , and I cannot help but find beauty in that. I also enjoy saying the name of the plant in Latin."

"And what might that be?"

"Hydrangea. It sounds nice, do you not think?"

"Hydrangea," he said slowly, listening to it carefully.

And whilst he did not see as much beauty in it as his wife seemed to, he was glad that she did. It was as though each time she spoke, he could see more and more how well she would do if she were allowed to enter university. She was intelligent and passionate, and he wanted her to keep talking to him, about anything, if it meant that he could hear her more.

"I particularly like the pink ones," she continued. "I do not even like pink all too much, but when they are with cornflowers, they make such a beautiful pair."

"I see," he replied, making a note in his mind to tell Davis the moment that he saw him.

"Now, enough about me," she decided. "What are your plans for today?"

"I have been working on a few things, and now that I am almost at the end of the day, I can feel myself tiring. I almost wish to stop now, even though I cannot."

"Well, I do not wish to keep you from it nor be an excuse."

"You are most certainly not. If anything, my work has been distracting me from you, so much so that I did not even notice the fact that the dining table has changed until my hip hit it after breakfast this morning."

"Yes, Mary found a carpenter that had it with him, and she decided to have him bring it in the early hours. It is quite lovely, is it not?"

"A darn sight better than the drab one it has replaced."

"And incredible quality. Now that I know he lives in our village, he shall have so much work to do that he will not know where to start!"

"Good, and pay him handsomely for it. At this rate, I shall be free of that awful amount of money I have."

They fell silent, Graham thinking about just how much that sum of money would change another man's life.

"Why do you hate your money so much?" she asked. "I know it is because it was your father's, but do you not simply see it as good fortune?"

"It is not mine."

"But it is. It is your right as the heir to inherit everything. That is what my father said about my half-brother, at least."

"Yes, and he is not exactly a shining example of what a father should be, is he?"

She fell quiet, and instantly, he regretted saying it. He had not meant to hurt her feelings, of course, but he simply wished to challenge her father's opinion every bit as much as he was challenging his own father's.

"My apologies," he said gently.

"No, there is none needed. I only wish to understand."

"It is as I told you — my father was only ever interested in having the four of us loathe each other, and it worked. Now, I cannot say that I truly hate any of my brothers, even Nicholas in spite of what he did, but that does not mean that I wish to reward them for the years of spite that they had towards me."

"And so you do not wish to share it with them?"

"I wanted to protect the money," he explained. "My brothers were so busy with all of their schemes during their attempts to prove to our father that they were deserving of it that they squandered what they had. The more they had, the more they spent. I guarantee that Miss Norton believes my brother to be far better off than he truly is, but that is none of my concern."

"So you did not share with them because they would not take care of it?"

"Precisely, and I would much rather give it to you to spend on our home so that you will have a household that you are happy with. You have as much right to it as I do, in spite of what my brothers want. I do not like having to do it, but it is how it has to be when you do not treat others well. I cannot reward them for it."

"You seem to have grown up in the same way I did," she sighed. "Fortunately, at least I had Diana, and so even when we were doing the work of ten servants, we had each other for company. You sound as though you had nobody at all."

"That is not strictly true. I had my mother for a good few years. Not long enough at all, but there could never have been enough time. She was a gift to this world, and she deserved far better than the husband she had. I had never wanted to be in a marriage where one's hand was forced, having seen what it did to her. She was so vibrant, and that is not me misremembering. It is my staff that had such strong memories of her."

"And I suppose you do too?" she asked.

"Of course, and most of them were made in this very room," he sighed, tilting his head back. "That pianoforte, for example. She played it each night when my father had retired to his bedchambers or when he was not home. She played it louder when he was not home at all. I learned a little, but I could never do it as well as she could, even if I did enjoy it."

"I enjoy the pianoforte. It has never been my strongest suit, to be sure, but I enjoy listening to my sister play."

"She could paint too, exceptionally well," he continued. "She was able to do that far more often as it did not make too much noise. It was an easier thing to hide."

"It is awful that she had to hide it from her own husband. I cannot fathom how lonely she must have been although she had you and your brothers for company."

"She only had me," he sighed. "My brothers were more interested in pleasing our father. They thought that if they favored him, he would favor them in return. That did happen, of course, but that did not change the fact that I was better equipped to handle his funds. I spent as much time with her as I could, although my father hated it, and I am glad that I did. It meant that, in spite of the small amount of time that we had together, I am to this day still able to remember her so well."

"She was fortunate to have a son like you. You are a good man, and I hope that you know that."

Graham smiled, but he could not respond. Was he a good man? He had tried to do all of the right things which he had learned from watching his father and doing the exact opposite of what he did, but did simply being better make him good? He looked at his wife, a faint smile on her lips, and he wanted to protect her with everything in him and give her the very best that he could, but he did not know how. He had never learned how.

She was so close to him that he could feel her heat, and when her eyes met his, he wanted to close the gap entirely, but he did not dare. Their kiss on their wedding day had been customary, and he was sure that that was all it was for her, and surely, that had not changed. She was so wonderful, and he could not bring himself to believe that she felt anything for him beyond companionship and pity. He could not do it; he could not kiss her.

"We are to go to dinner tonight," he said instead, "with Lord Drowshire."

"Ah, yes, I remember," she replied, sounding almost disappointed. "I must say, I cannot wait to see Penelope again. In amongst all of this, I am so glad to have at least found a friend."

"Am I a friend to you?" he asked, and she furrowed her brows.

He shouldn't have asked, and he knew that, but he could not help himself. He wanted to know, needed to know, because he felt so much for her that he had to know whether or not he was wishing in vain. It had hit him all at once although, now that he thought about it, it had been there all along. She had made him feel a way that no other lady had, and he could not give it a name that made any sense. He needed her to give it a name so that he could accept it.

"A friend?" she echoed. "If that is what you want."

Was it? Graham could not be sure, but he knew how much he liked being around her and how much better everything felt when she was near him. He wanted her to always be near him, and he was almost ashamed of that after he had trapped her in a marriage with him.

Just like his mother, she had deserved better, and just like his father, he had married her anyway. It had been cruel of him, and she wanted to be his friend regardless. It was not what he wanted — he wanted more — but he had to be grateful for it nonetheless. It was more than he deserved, she was more than he deserved, and yet there she was doing everything she could for him.

"I would love to be friends," he replied, "if that is all right with you."

"Of course."

But she seemed upset as she said it. He wanted her to be honest with him, but it was no surprise to him that she could not bring herself to be. It was confusing, however, because she had seemed so happy with him, and now, she seemed the opposite. He wondered what she wanted from him, and how he could give it to her, but he could not solve either problem. All that he could do was look at her and will her to speak her mind.

"I ought to prepare for tonight," she said gently, standing to leave. "I shall see you later."

"What color are you wearing tonight?" he asked suddenly.

"Green," she said with uncertainty. "Emerald green, I was thinking. Would that be all right?"

"Of course. I was only asking because I was hoping to wear the same. Would that be all right?"

There was a quiet moment between them.

"Yes," she said at last, "I would like that a lot."