Ravishing the Heiress (Fitzhugh Trilogy #2)

“So—you are actually happy for her?”


“I wish I were him: I envy him and I will never not envy him. All the same, when I saw her smile at him, it was as if a load fell from my shoulders.”

He looked at Millie. “It is good to know that I’m not as selfish as I thought I might be.”

Don’t you dare do this to me. This is no time for you to act noble and generous.

He reached into his pocket and drew out a package wrapped in silk and tied with a length of ribbon. “This is for you.”

“You already gave me a birthday present.”

“We both know that it was Venetia who remembered to give you a birthday present from me. You have been a steadfast friend. I have not expressed my appreciation very well up to this point, but please know that I am grateful to you.”

Don’t, she almost said. Don’t.

“You didn’t let me drown in whisky. You didn’t leave me to face Colonel Clements alone. And you are always, always kind. I hope I can be just as good a friend to you someday.”

She bit her lower lip. “What is in the package?”

“A lavender cutting for your garden. I asked your maid and she told me that you are very fond of lavender. After Isabelle’s wedding I went to Lady Pryor’s place and applied for a few cuttings. I understand it’s better to propagate in spring but that it’s still doable in autumn.”

She opened the package, and indeed, wrapped inside was a sprig of lavender.

“More will come tomorrow, but I thought I’d bring this one in person.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He really ought not have. Six weeks of dogged efforts to fall out of love with him—he would ruin it all with a single gesture.

“All we’ve done here is take things down and prevent further deterioration,” he said. “Let’s grow something—something new, something that is ours.”

You don’t know what you ask. You don’t know the terrible hopes this will ignite in me.

“Thank you,” she said. “It will be beautiful.”





CHAPTER 8


1896

Lavender honey,” read Isabelle from the handwritten label on the glass jar.

“You like honey—if I recall correctly,” said Fitz. “We make this honey at Henley Park. Very good stuff.”

And very beautiful, glowing golden and clear in the gingham-covered jar.

“My goodness, to make lavender honey you must have a whole field of lavender.”

“Acres and acres of it. It’s quite a sight to see, especially after three months in London.” Fitz felt a surge of pride and warmth at the mere thought. He missed it, his corner of the Earth.

“You never told me about those acres and acres of lavender. I thought Henley Park was nothing but a ruin.”

“It was. The lavender fields were started in my tenure—although most of the credit must go to Lady Fitzhugh. She is an indefatigable gardener.”

Isabelle had been holding up the jar of honey, admiring it in the light. She set it down abruptly. “You are giving me something that comes from her garden?”

Her voice was tinged with both suspicion and displeasure—she was reading too much into a simple gift. “Our garden,” he said firmly. “I got the first cuttings from Lady Pryor.”

Isabelle pursed her lips. “That might be even worse, that this comes from something belonging to the both of you.”

“You are taking up with a married man, Isabelle. Much of my life is intertwined with my wife’s.”

“I know that.” She sighed, an exasperated sound. “But the reminder does not really help, does it?”

He’d seen the honey at breakfast, remembered that she enjoyed honey on her toast, and asked his housekeeper whether there were any unopened jars on hand—as simple as that. But nothing, alas, was so straightforward.

“If you don’t care for it, I’ll take it back and find you something you’ll like better.”

“Of course I like it—I adore anything you give me.” Her lips turned down briefly at the corners. “I’m just frustrated that there is so much of your life I do not—and cannot—share.”

“It will change now. My wife and I had nothing in common when we married.” Realizing he hadn’t given the best example, he hastened to add, “It will take time, that’s all. We must catch up on all the years we’ve been apart, and then build something new.”

“You make it sound as if there is a distance between us that needs to be bridged.”

He was taken aback she’d dispute him on this point. “That’s quite inevitable, isn’t it? We have changed. It will take us a while to know each other as we once did.”

“I have not changed.” Her voice turned vehement. “Yes, I have experienced marriage and motherhood. But I remain the same person I have always been. If you knew me then, you should know me now.”

“I do know you, but not as well as I would like to.” He sounded defensive to his own ears.