Charlie’s friends were both intelligent and entertaining. Toss, in particular, had proven himself an instant friend, something Scott desperately needed. And the Huntresses were everything he could hope for in house-party companions. They, too, were quite clever. Laughter among them was frequent and contagious. He could understand how it was they’d become such a force in Society. Artemis’s social prowess and confidence, coupled with the unmissable loyalty among them all, made them impossible to overlook and, likely, the envy of everyone who didn’t claim such a powerful friendship.
The gentlemen and ladies had all gone from two groups who were very nearly strangers to dear friends. They were already on a Christian-name basis, though that did stretch the bounds of propriety. And though he did not truly belong to either set of previously established friends, he had been embraced by them all and made to feel welcome and part of them.
He looked in the direction of the garden gate, attempting to guess before seeing them which of the Huntresses was approaching. The O’Doyle sisters seemed the most likely to be laughing. They were lighthearted and shockingly funny. He’d been told they weren’t twins, but part of him still wasn’t convinced. Gillian was far more likely to have chosen the garden as her destination. She was often out on the grounds rather than in the house. He’d concluded that she was more comfortable in nature than in company. And if she was approaching, her companion was most likely to be Daria. They were particularlyclose, and one was seldom seen without the other, at least inside the house.
A mere instant later, Gillian and Daria stepped into view. Scott set his writing desk on the bench and stood, as was expected of a gentleman. They saw him there—Daria smiling and Gillian looking a little wary yet—and made quick curtseys in the same moment he offered a small bow.
“Please do not allow me to interrupt your enjoyment of the garden,” he said. “I do not require any of the niceties or invitations for involvement that are so often obligatory when crossing paths.”
Daria smiled with the ease he’d discovered was inherent to her. “You are giving us permission to ignore you?”
“If that is what you would prefer,” he said. “And I will only bea littleoffended.”
Gillian allowed a quick show of amusement. He didn’t think she was an unhappy person, nor that she was being snippy with him. He had found she was more guarded around people she did not know well. She had taken longer than the other Huntresses to take up the use of Christian names. While she was a bit more ill at ease with him than with the other gentlemen, she was still withdrawn in their presence.
“This is a lovely garden, isn’t it?” Daria said, looking around. “I think Gillian would spend all day here if Artemis didn’t insist she interact at least a little with the rest of us. Gillian knows everything about gardens. Absolutely everything. At Houghton Manor, where she lives, she knows the grounds better than the groundskeeper, I daresay.”
Scott met Gillian’s eye, but neither of them managed to utter so much as a word before Daria continued.
“She has taught me ever so much about gardens, but I cannot remember most of it. My father says I have a mind like a sieve.” Seeming to realize she’d repeated what was, in all reality, aninsult, Daria’s eyes widened in a look of panic. “He was jesting, I assure you. He’s always teasing.”
Scott suspected Daria’s father “teased” in much the way Uncle Sarvol had “helped” Scott. Insults and cruelty and unkindness. If that were truly the case, then his heart went out to Miss Daria Mullins.
“Charlie told me this is a magical garden,” Gillian said, executing a very quick change of topic. “Have you discovered it to be?”
“Magical?” Scott looked around at the shrubs and flowers, the tall, stately tree. “Thereissomething very remarkable about this spot. It is peaceful.”
Gillian looked at him a bit more closely after that remark, seeming to study him. “Is something disturbing your peace?”
He was not one for spilling his troubles into other people’s ears, but he found himself reluctant to lie to her. Perhaps it was because she already distrusted him and he didn’t care to confirm her suspicions. Perhaps it was because he was feeling a bit overwhelmed, and havingsomeoneto talk with would be helpful, even if that someone couldn’t be his father. Perhaps it was because Toss had mentioned last night that Gillian was, as he had heard it, a poor relation living in the home of a distant relative, and Scott suspected she would understand the weight of financial distress.
Still, he didn’t mean to lay everything bare. “I have only recently been made aware of a small holding in North Yorkshire that is tied to the inheritance I received from my late uncle, and I have a horrible suspicion I am going to discover that it is in horrendous disrepair.”
“Oh, that would be too bad,” Daria said. “What will you do if it is falling to bits?”
Scott shrugged in a way he hoped was more comical than pathetic. “Join a traveling troupe of actors and pretend I’ve never heard of Scott Sarvol or his connection to Thimbleby?”
The ladies had come near enough to where he stood that he could see the veiled humor in Gillian’s eyes. She was coming to think better of him, he’d wager. Given a little time, she might even decide he was a perfectly acceptable human being.
“Thimbleby is a lovely name for an estate,” Daria said. “Thimbleby. Thimbleby.” She made each repetition a little more poetic than the last, obviously enamored of the name. “I wonder if the person who named it was fond of thimbles.”
Gillian’s gaze took on a hint of warning as she looked to Scott, and the reason was not difficult to ascertain. Daria had made any number of comments that, among uncharitable people, might have resulted in ridicule. Gillian would not abide any unkindness toward her friend. If only she realized he had no intention of offering any set downs. He liked Daria; she was sweet and guileless.
“Thimbleby is a far more poetic name than the one given to the house where I live,” Scott said. “It is named Sarvol House. Not highly creative.”
“Gillian lives at Houghton Manor.” Daria sighed a little. “Isn’t that a lovely name for a house? Houghton Manor.”
“Itislovely.” Scott motioned to the bench. “If you would care to sit, I can move my writing desk.”
Gillian shook her head. “We are enjoying getting a little exercise while reveling in nature.”
“I suspectyouare doing most of the reveling. Nature clearly holds great appeal for you.”
She looked a little surprised. “How do you know that?”
“My sister once told me I was too curious for my own good. I like to think my curiosity has matured into simply beingobservant. You are on the grounds often, so I have inferred that you enjoy the out-of-doors.”
“Allow me to be a bit overly curious as well,” she said. “You enjoy writing letters. Almost every time I see you, that is what you are doing.”