She crossed the bridge and entered Quigley land. She smiled as she brushed her finger over Gideon’s lavender hedges, planted along the garden paths many years ago, well before the time she knew what lavender even was. He and his father before him had planted so many fragrant plants, and she’d long used the bounty of Quigley gardens for making scented sachets for herself.
She picked some as she went, knowing she had permission if it was not wasted, and looked ahead as the roofline of Giddy’s house came into view. She stopped in the shade of an Elm tree to admire its familiar pleasing shape.
The house was a great deal smaller than Stapleton Manor. Only four bedchambers upstairs, with Gideon as the sole occupant, and five public rooms below—a drawing room, dining room, morning room, Gideon’s study, and another unused room. The servants toiled on the distant east side of the ground floor and slept in the attic space above.
Jessica loved the place for its simplicity and grace. She was always finding something new to look at and smile about. Giddy’s ancestors were more conservative and modest than her own. The gardens, too, reflected their owners’ tastes—a series of walled enclosures, intersected with straight paths but filled to the brim with plants of every description by Gideon and his gardeners.
She crossed two enclosures before she could spy the lower windows of the house.
The French doors to Gideon’s drawing room were open to allow the breeze to enter. Believing him to be home, she decided to speak to him before continuing on her walk.
A flash of blue across the grounds caught her eye and, expecting Giddy, she turned, lifting her hand to wave. She froze instead.
A woman wearing blue, a stranger with dark hair and pale skin, was strolling b
eneath the trees at Gideon’s side.
Jessica darted inside the nearest walled garden before she was seen where she ought not to be without a chaperone.
Hearing no footsteps or anyone calling out to her, she risked a peek around the open archway. She was in luck; Gideon and his visitor appeared not to have noticed her at all. They were still some distance away and not looking in her direction. Unfortunately, there was only one way out of this particular walled garden, and while Gideon would not scold her, Jessica had no choice but to remain where she was until the stranger went away.
Jessica inhaled her scented flowers as Gideon and the woman continued to talk. What they said, she couldn’t hear, but Gideon laughed suddenly.
He held out his hand, and the lady shook it.
And then the woman laid her hands on Gideon’s waistcoat and stretched up on her toes to kiss him full on the lips.
Jessica covered her mouth with both hands to hold in the gasp of shock that would reveal her presence to Gideon and the woman.
She had not believed Natalia’s tale held any truth yesterday. But here it was. Right before her.
Gideon Whitfield was courting someone at last!
“What was that for?” Gideon asked as Mrs. Beck drew back from kissing him without warning.
“I…I thought…” she began, but then frowned, as if unsure how to account for her actions. “We’ve been spending so much time together.”
“Indeed. You asked to see the gardens, and I am always happy to show anyone about.”
“Yes, indeed. They are quite lovely. Everything you promised and more.”
He drew back from her. “I’m glad you like them. I’m very proud of what I’ve achieved so far this year.”
“Yes, well. I do enjoy coming here with the children,” Mrs. Beck promised, although she seemed uncomfortable now. “You have every right to be proud.”
He cleared his throat. “I wonder where your sons have gone? It seems ominously quiet.”
“I should go and look for them,” she suggested. “Unless…”
Unless he was interested in kissing her again? He wasn’t in the least. Better not to raise her expectations. Kissing Mrs. Beck, or having her kiss him, hadn’t been unpleasant, but he hoped she would not attempt to do so again. He was a gentleman, and not one for casual dalliances or leading ladies on. “I had better come along, in case the youngest has climbed a tree again and needs help returning to the ground.”
She settled her hand on her belly and nodded. A blush seemed to be climbing her cheeks, too. Had she imagined an enthusiastic response to her bold behavior? He wouldn’t marry her, so he shouldn’t kiss her. He wasn’t a scoundrel.
“I do hope he’s not stuck again,” Mrs. Beck murmured. “You were so good to help him down the last time.”
“It was no bother to help. Boys are always getting into one scrape after another.” He gestured to the narrow path. “After you, madam.”
When the path widened again, far beyond the limits of his well-tended garden where they could walk side-by-side, he surveyed the green paddock of long grass before them carefully and put his hands behind his back. “No sign yet.”