“The vine doesn’t like clothing. It prefers skin-to-skin,” he murmured.
Dawn’s eyes widened as she thought through the implications. Then she swallowed. Despite the loose dress that floated around her legs, she suddenly seemed rather heated. She needed a change of topic before she asked how much bare skin the vine required. “The dress is divine. I’ve not seen a style like this except in paintings.”
“Lettie chose the dress. It is one of hers, and she does love the freedom of Regency fashion. She thought it the most appropriate colour. I will admit I did not want to see you clothed in black, even if you are still in full mourning for your parents.”
The lump in her throat dropped down to her stomach. “My parents were practical. They would know I carry them in my heart, and I don’t need a gown of a particular colour to pay my respects to them.”
Lord Seton paused at the open door and gestured for her to enter first. Dawn was grateful for the choice of venue. In this parlour she sat on the autumnal chaise after being shut in the pineapple pit. The earthy colour scheme soothed her soul and allowed her to imagine she sat in her beloved garden at Whetstone.
Still, her heart galloped one moment and then slid to a dawdle the next. They needed to come to a resolution of the tension between them before her faulty organ gave up completely. They separated as Dawn sat, and he moved to stand by the fireplace. Lord Seton leaned against the mantel, but a stiffness remained in his shoulders. Firelight flickered over half his face, both shadow and light embodied there.
Worry simmered in his grey gaze as he watched her. “I apologise for my behaviour earlier. To know that you might feel the same way and that you also see the vine was a momentous revelation, and I acted impulsively.”
Dawn’s fingertips brushed her lips. She liked the impulsive and passionate side to the earl, but she wasn’t sure if her constitution was up to it. Nevertheless, she could die happy, having been so thoroughly kissed. “So much has happened in the space of just a few days. I feel as though all I know about the world has been turned upside down and shaken.”
The frown lines deepened on his brow. “I will confess I am in unfamiliar territory having to explain these things, and I suspect you have many questions. How would you best like to proceed?”
Dawn’s mind filled with a million questions, each jockeying for position. For the first time in her life, energy fizzled under her skin and demanded she walk, climb, or run to burn it off. Instead she traced a star that sat over her knee. “Tell me about the vine. You said it is significant – what does it mean?”
He stared at his hand for a moment and then crossed his arms over his chest. “It is called the Cor-vitis, and among our kind we say ‘hearts it entwines’. Some say it is a symbol of protection, others that it is an outward sign of a deep internal connection between a couple. That it has chosen us is significant because the vine believes we are meant to be together. That does not strip you of free will though. I do not want you to feel coerced or as though your employment depends on allowing my advances.”
“Vitis is Latin for the grapevine. Is it a type of grape?” Dawn clasped her hands in her lap. Rampant nerves were squirrels chasing up and down her arms, and she needed to keep her fingers still. Lord Seton abandoned his spot by the fire to pace the carpet, and Dawn suspected he wrangled his own bunch of nervous squirrels. She wanted to bombard him with questions about the tiny magical plant that reminded her of a sweet pea. How did it choose people to draw together? Hearts it entwines.
“Its name roughly translates as the heart grape. Some say the feelings its inspires for your chosen partner are intoxicating and that you become drunk on love. Although I believe the name more likely refers to the shape of the leaf and its twining habit.”
Drunk on love? Dawn had never imagined a future with love and romantic passion. Nurturing a garden had always been her only passion. How incredible that a tiny plant revealed itself as love’s seed. Before she yielded to such fanciful thoughts, there were more practical matters to discuss.
“Well, as fascinating as that sounds, we must resolve the matter of my employment. Do you intend to send me back to Whetstone when the train arrives tomorrow, or may I continue my work here?” In that instant Dawn knew that even if he terminated her employment, she could never leave Alysblud. She would take a cottage in the village so that she might remain close to the sickly garden and this family.
Lord Seton halted his pacing and his hands disappeared to clasp behind his back. “You are gently bred and a young woman of quality – I cannot consider you an employee, yet I cannot let you go. I do not want to bring dishonour to your name, but neither can I deny the attraction between us. I am torn as to what to do.”
Dawn wished she hadn’t sat opposite the fire. Her face heated, and she longed for cool shade or a fan. If he wouldn’t employ her as a gardener, then how could she stay here? She racked her brain and thought of the books about the work of Capability Brown. There was certainly capability for improvement (as Mr Brown used to say) at the Ravenswing estate. “Could you instead consider me a professional engaged for a limited term contract? Like a painter commissioned for a portrait or a sculptor who crafts a bust. Or perhaps like Dr Day, who is both a doctor who renders you a service but also a friend to the family.”
One dark eyebrow arched as he considered her offer. At least the frown didn’t deepen. “Yes, that would be acceptable. You are no longer employed as a gardener but engaged as a landscape architect on the project of revitalising the grounds.”
One squirrel in her stomach sat down quietly. “We could evaluate progress at the end of each month, and naturally I will remain in the cottage.”
He nodded. “Very well. With that settled, does that mean you are open to my advances?”
Heat flared in his eyes as his nostrils widened on an inhale.
Dawn swallowed, trying to return moisture to her dry throat. If she replied yes, would he leap across the room and press her to the chaise? She wasn’t entirely sure she would object if that were his plan. However, polite young women were expected to at least put up token resistance to advances, however much they wanted to capitulate. “I have known you for only a week. I require time, my lord. Time to become better acquainted and to know if we are compatible. But yes, I am open to learning more about you and establishing if we have some commonality.”
She couldn’t say open to your advances without remembering how he’d pressed her to the wall. The feel of his naked chest under her fingers. His tongue exploring her mouth. She had never discussed men with her mother except as an abstract idea, and now she wondered what exactly she had just agreed to. Then she remembered her vow to grasp whatever life sent. It appeared she would have the chance to grasp Lord Seton.
He ground his jaw as though her answer was not the one he anticipated. “Mouse knew you were the person for him the first time he saw you. Can you not entertain the notion that we can likewise know in an instant who we are destined to love?”
Denial leapt to her tongue. He made it sound too easy. She stared at her hands in case her eyes gave too much away. “I rather think dogs live much simpler lives and therefore find it easier to give their hearts. Unlike Mouse, I require conversation and to know a person’s mind and character before I lie down at their feet.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat, drawing her focus to his chiselled face. “Very well. I can give you time to learn all you wish to know. What questions about Ravenswing would you have me answer?”
She wanted to know all of it, even if it sounded impossible, outrageous, and completely mad. “Your family is not like others.”
He became a statue. “No. We are not.”