Page 58 of A Landscape of Love

“I beg your pardon. I don’t know what I was thinking, only you really must be a fool if you cannot see how desperately I love you,” she said, smiling at him, her eyes sparkling a little too brightly.

Words crowded on Hart’s tongue, love words and declarations and confessions of the kind that made his heart thud so hard and fast he felt giddy. Too unsettled by the onslaught of emotions, Hart did the only thing that seemed appropriate, and kissed his wife thoroughly and well.

By the time they reached De Beauvoir Nurseries and Landscaping, Fidelia’s hair was mussed, her dress rumpled and her cheeks burning. She felt exceedingly pleased with herself on all counts.

It seemed she had finally got through her husband’s thick head and made him believe she had not married him only to get herself out of a terrible situation, but because she had wanted to, because not marrying him would have broken her heart. It was rather strange to her to discover how difficult he found it to believe, for whenever she looked at him, she had the great desire to pinch herself. When she thought of the boastful, ignorant fool who had fathered her child, she could only contrast the two men and wonder what on earth she had been thinking. Hart was so much the better man in every way, it was a ridiculous comparison.

Her estimation of her husband and all he had achieved only grew upon her first sight of the empire he had built for himself. Huge wrought-iron gates pronouncing De Beauvoir Nurseries And Landscaping spanned an impressive tree-lined driveway that led their carriage down to the most beautiful and extraordinary building Fidelia had ever seen. Single storey, with an elegant balustrade all around, it seemed to be topped with a beautiful roof garden surrounding a lovely pagoda. That Hart had designed and built something so enchantingly pretty gave her an even deeper sense of pride and a little more insight into the heart of a man who was outwardly so down to earth and practical.

“Oh, Hart, it’s wonderful,” she said, staring out of the window with wide eyes. “I’ve seen nothing so lovely in all my life.”

Hart said nothing in response to this but when she glanced back at him, she saw the pleasure in his eyes at her words and knew this was a sure way to reach him. He took pride in his achievements and rightly so, and knowing she appreciated them meant something to him.

“We’ll go around the back entrance,” he said, rather to her regret for she wanted to see everything on the other side of the colourful striped awning that greeted visitors to his kingdom. “I don’t want everyone gawping at you and the place is busy.”

She was as grateful for his thoughtfulness as much as she was disappointed, for she did not wish to make her first appearance as his wife in the gown she had run away from home in. Though she was sorry not to have the chance to see his business for herself at once. It was busy, though, with carriages lining every inch of the driveway. It impressed Fidelia to discover that his clientele comprised not only the upper middle classes, as she had assumed it might, but the fashionable and upper ranks of society, too. How far he had come, she thought with a sudden burst of pride.

The carriage took them around the back of the splendid building, past dozens of intriguing glass houses that Fidelia could not wait to explore, and acres of nursery beds planted with various shrubs and trees in different stages of growth.

“Here we are,” Hart said, swinging the door of the carriage open and jumping down. He reached back a hand to her. Fidelia climbed out and Hart led her inside to what was clearly the business end of the building, never to be seen by clients. Crates and packing boxes lined the walls. The scent of damp earth and greenery reached her nose.

“Afternoon, sir,” called several men, who gave Fidelia curious glances as they respectfully touched their fingers to their caps. “Ma’am.”

“Good afternoon to you, Mr Gower, Fred, Charlie. How is it going?” Hart asked.

“Frantic as ever. That display of spring bulbs was a roaring success. We’ve sold out of the lot. Reckon we’d best do the same again next year, but we’ll need at least three times as many in stock to keep up with demand.”

Hart nodded, apparently pleased. “Excellent, and… and might I present my wife to you, gentlemen? This is Lady Fidelia De Beauvoir.”

Fidelia blushed as the men gaped at her in astonishment before swiping their caps from their heads and stammering greetings and congratulations.

“Thank you,” Hart said with a crooked smile, placing Fidelia’s hand on his arm and taking her around the corner to a narrow staircase.

Fidelia had to let go of his supporting arm to crush her skirts so she could climb the stairs, very aware of Hart close behind her. When she got to the top, she paused, waiting for him to come and open the door. He did so, pushing it open before hesitating for a moment. She gave him an enquiring glance and then gasped as he reached for her, swinging her up into his arms with ease and carrying her inside. Closing the door with his foot, he crossed a room she did not have time to investigate before entering his bedroom.

It was sparse, though bright and clean. A large bed dominated the space, boasting fine white linen and covered with a colourful quilt in different shades of blue. On either side of the bed covering the polished wood floor were small rugs, this time in shades of dark green. There were pictures on the wall, botanical paintings of the sort she had tried her hand at, but the best part of the room were the large windows that let out onto the roof garden she had spied on arrival.

“We’re in the Pagoda,” she said in delight.

“We are,” he agreed, placing her feet gently back down on the floor but keeping a tight hold on her.

“How glorious it is,” she said with a sigh of delight, looking out upon the little paradise he had created, with thick greenery punctuated at intervals by jewel-like pots of colourful spring bulbs. If this was anything like the display in his showroom, she could certainly see why everything had been sold. Everyone would want a little piece of heaven like this for themselves.

“Hmph.” It was a discouraged, noncommittal sound that made Fidelia look up at him in surprise.

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, scowling down at the tiny buttons that marched down the front of her dress. “It’s a one-bedroom apartment with meagre facilities. There’s probably not enough space in here to store your clothes, let alone you.”

“Then I shall just have to stop wearing them,” she said tartly.

“You’ll… what did you say?” he asked in alarm.

Fidelia smiled at him, glad to have refocused his mind. “Do stop being such a nitwit,” she scolded him gently. “It will do splendidly until the house is ready. I feel like I’m living in a beautiful garden. I shall imagine I’m a tree nymph,” she added with as much gravity as she could muster.

“A tree nymph,” Hart repeated sceptically, his lips twitching.

“Yes, and why not?” she demanded, enjoying herself. She had never learned the art of flirtation, nor had the chance to be silly with a man she was entirely safe with… except the gleam in his eyes made her wonder if she was quite as safe as she assumed. A dangerous look glinted in those blue depths, suggesting he might have nefarious ideas about what to do with any tree nymphs dallying in his garden.