Grace: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters' Series Book 3) Page 5

  They were prevented from speaking further by Rosalind’s voice, “Grace, we need to return.”

  “You’re wanted,” Harry said with a nod in the direction from which the voice had come.

  Grace rolled her eyes a little. “I have an appointment.”

  “You’d better go then,” Harry said gruffly.

  Grace moved away a little before pausing. She took a deep breath; if she did not ask him now, she never would. “Would you show me where you grow the Dianthus please if we meet tomorrow?”

  Harry frowned, “At the moment they’re in an area that is not usually on show.” The kitchen gardens and glasshouses were in the area the family and guests never visited. He had been experimenting with growing different colours and cross-pollinating to try and create something new, hence their absence in the garden.

  “Please? It is the heart of the garden; I would like to see it,” Grace insisted.

  Harry shrugged, “It isn’t ordered into neat rows.”

  “That is the attraction,” Grace said with a slight smile.

  “As you wish,” Harry responded, his head bowed slightly in acquiescence. He did not really want to take her there; they would be seen by the other servants without doubt, but the reality was that he could not refuse her anything. It went further than submitting to the requests of his betters; she wanted him to show her something, which meant contact with her, which he could not resist.

  “Thank you; I will really look forward to it,” Grace said, before turning away and walking back to Rosalind.

  Harry was once more left watching her retreating figure. So her name was Grace. It suited her, he mused; she was like a small delicate flower herself, beautiful and enhancing wherever she was. Her name was completely appropriate. He returned to his work, his mind planning what colours to send the next time she needed flowers.

  Rosalind shook her head at her sister. “What took you so long?” she asked.

  “I want to see the areas of the gardens where the real work takes place, but I don’t want to go wandering around on my own, so I arranged to be shown around,” Grace answered honestly.

  Rosalind shook her head, “I’d better warn the staff you will soon be wielding a spade; it will lessen their shock.”

  Chapter 5

  Mr Workman arrived at Sudworth Hall promptly. He was met by the Duchess of Sudworth and her sister as they turned the corner of the building. The Duchess approached him, smiling. “Mr Workman, I believe? I do apologise for our tardiness; my sister and I were taking a stroll before your arrival.”

  “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Mr Workman replied with a bow. “It is indeed a fine day for a stroll and, as I have only just arrived myself, there is no need for apologies.”

  Rosalind smiled in approval at Mr Workman; he had an easy manner that she liked. Grace would need someone who could coax her out of her natural reticence. “Are you to go far? It is a perfect day for an open-topped ride.”

  “I was hoping to reach the village of Longton. It is only a few miles from here and has a pretty church. I also have it on good authority there is a good inn there, which serves refreshments outside if the weather is fine,” Mr Workman replied. He helped Grace into the phaeton as he spoke.

  “Have a lovely afternoon,” Rosalind said with a smile, waving off the phaeton as it pulled away. She had some sympathy for her sister; the blush that had coloured her cheeks since she had seen Mr Workman was a clear indication of her internal unease. Rosalind hoped that Grace would develop confidence while she stayed with them; she wanted only the best husband for her quiet sister; no one else would do.

  The pair remained silent until they passed through the gates of Sudworth Hall. “It is fortuitous that Mrs Adams introduced us; my cousin likes to keep himself very busy in his parish. I find myself kicking my heels at home while he is tending his flock,” Mr Workman said.

  “My sister speaks highly of the work he undertakes in the area,” Grace acknowledged.

  “Yes, he is very good, spending his time tending to his flock. Whereas I work hard to line my own pockets,” Mr Workman said with a self-depreciating grimace.

  “As do all other businessmen,” Grace said with a smile. “What line of business are you in?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Mr Workman queried, “I do not wish to inflict talk of business on you; as I told you last night, I have been warned by my cousin about the etiquette with regards to business.”

  “You may speak as you please,” Grace said with an encouraging smile. “There were never such restrictions at my home, so I am accustomed to hearing my father discuss his interests. He very often brought business acquaintances home, and the conversation around the dining table was usually about some sort of scheme either current or planned.”

  “It sounds a very welcoming place for the likes of us who are in business. With regards to my own plans I am hoping to build and then sell property in the Americas,” Mr Workman said animatedly, obviously excited at his prospects. “It is such a large country; it is still new and constantly expanding if half the stories I’ve heard are true. I’ve known many men to leave these shores and not return, because there were so many opportunities to prosper over there. It is a huge area of growth; there are far bigger profits to be made than could be made in England.”

  “So you intend staying there for quite some time? I would imagine it would take time to become established,” Grace asked. Her words were asked out of curiosity, not for any other reason.

  “Yes, I believe I will be away for some years. It is the perfect location to be successful: there is so much development going on. I genuinely believe there will be no limit to the fortune to be made through hard work and good planning. One of my acquaintances is already over there and wrote to say he had made the profit that he usually made in a year, but it had taken him but two months! With returns such as those, it would be foolish of me not to try and capitalise on it,” Mr Workman replied, his voice rising a little with the excitement of his venture.

  “It would be hard being so far away from home I think,” Grace said honestly. She was very much a person who liked being in familiar surroundings with those she loved. An adventurous life was not one she longed for.

  “I wouldn’t stay out there forever,” Mr Workman responded. “I love England too much to turn my back on it completely, and my family, whom I regard highly, are here. I would be saddened indeed to think I would not be returning. I just feel I should go while I am young enough to take full advantage of the opportunities and then I shall be set-up for life when I return. I’m hoping to not have to work quite so hard if I make a success over there; that way I might be more acceptable in the genteel drawing rooms on my return.”

  “You seem to have everything planned out,” Grace said with a smile.

  “I do. I’m afraid it is part of my nature to plan everything in the finest detail,” came the apologetic response. “So, now it is my turn to stop being rude; I should hold my tongue. I have rattled on so you know all about me, but I shall be quiet and allow you to tell me about yourself.”

  Grace flushed and became tongue-tied the moment the conversation was dependent on her; she could not be as entertaining or enthusiastic about herself. “There isn’t much to tell,” she said quietly.

  Mr Workman smiled at her, quickly picking up on her discomfort. He concentrated on the horses for a few moments before asking his own questions. “How long do you stay at Sudworth Hall?”

  “I’m here on an indefinite stay,” Grace replied. “There are plans to visit London at some time in the future, but I’m not sure when as yet.” She did not wish to tell anyone outside the family about Rosalind’s condition.

  “Do you spend a lot of time in London? Mrs Adams told me your family originates from there.” Mr Workman was happy to hear the sound of his own voice and was, therefore, content to ask the questions in order to find out more about his pretty companion.

  “No, we don’t travel into the City mu
ch even though we live on its outskirts, which is a little strange, I suppose,” Grace admitted. “My father obviously has offices there, but we tend to stay in the area near our home. Mother shops in London, but even then very often she has materials sent to her rather than visiting the establishments herself. I prefer the quiet, so I do everything I can to avoid taking trips there.”

  “You don’t like the hubbub then?” Mr Workman teased.

  “No, I’d prefer to spend a day in the garden to a day in the City,” Grace admitted.

  They continued their drive until they reached the village of Longton. The church of St Andrews was pretty; Mr Workman informed Grace it had been built during the 1770’s.They walked around the church and its graveyard, admiring the architecture and Grace pointing out some of the plants that filled the hedgerows surrounding the church. As the time passed, she became more comfortable with Mr Workman, she always found it easier to converse with someone when they asked specific questions. She was never one to start a conversation, not having the confidence that anything she had to say was of importance to anyone else.

  Mr Workman was a pleasant person to spend time with, but although more comfortable with him, it always felt a relief when she asked a question that would have him talking for a while. She would always be a listener, rather than a talker.

  They left the church and took a small drive to the inn that was serving refreshments in a garden area, taking advantage of the fine weather. The garden overlooked the village green. Tables and benches were set out in a well-tended area, set at the opposite side of the inn that the business of horse changes took place, providing a moment’s peace for anyone seeking refreshment there. The idea was quite unusual and was a novelty, made very popular on any day that the sunshine made an appearance. Visitors were able to watch what was going on around them, giving less opportunity for uncomfortable silences to develop, for which Grace was particularly grateful.

  Grace nibbled at the cakes Mr Workman ordered, amused when a bird fluttered near their table to seek crumbs. “This is a pleasant place,” Grace said happily, throwing crumbs to the birds.

  “Yes, a novelty I expect will catch on,” Mr Workman said. “I’ve never found sharing a boisterous tap room very pleasant and, very often, the private parlours have been taken.”

  They set out for home when they had eaten and drunk their fill. The return journey was less trying for Grace; the thought of a long drive ahead did not trouble her as it had on the way out. Overall she had enjoyed her day; Mr Workman was a perfectly pleasant gentleman, but she would be very glad to return home.

  The warmth of the day was receding by the time they arrived back at Sudworth Hall, and both were glad to be able to walk around after a two hour journey in the phaeton. Mr Workman was invited in to the Hall by Rosalind to share in some refreshments before his own journey to the vicarage. He accepted but did not stay long. After enjoying a cup of warming tea, he made his bow, thanking Grace for her company. “I hope I can call on you again soon,” he said.

  “If you’re attending the Assembly in Preston at the weekend, we shall be in attendance,” Rosalind offered.

  “I am,” Mr Workman smiled. “Would it be too forward of me to ask for the first two dances? Unless you are already engaged of course,” he asked Grace.

  “I am not engaged for any dances at the moment; I wasn’t aware we were attending the Assembly,” Grace said, pointedly looking at her sister.

  “I meant to mention it but forgot,” Rosalind said with mock innocence and a shrug of her shoulders that was only for Grace’s eyes.

  “In that case, I would be happy to accept your offer,” Grace said to Mr Workman, but the look she gave Rosalind ensured her sister knew full well what she thought of her unsubtlety. Mr Workman made his bow and left the room, happy with the progress of his day.

  When the ladies were alone, Grace turned to Rosalind. “Are there any other engagements I need to be aware of, or are you going to drop them on me only in the presence of a gentleman, putting us both in awkward positions?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

  Rosalind smiled, “No, not yet, but never mind that,” she said dismissing Grace’s pointed question. “How was your day out?”

  “It was fine,” Grace said with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

  “Fine?” Rosalind asked. “That isn’t a very good recommendation. I was hoping for more.”

  “This from the sister that said she wants me to live with her for some time!” Grace exclaimed. “Then the very next day, she is trying to marry me off!”

  “I am not!” Rosalind said defensively. “Although if he is a nice gentleman and you were to marry….”

  “I would find myself living for the foreseeable future in the Americas,” Grace said, having some satisfaction from the look of mortification on her sister’s face.

  “Really?” Rosalind said with disappointment.

  “Yes, really,” Grace replied. “He is only visiting his cousin on his way to Liverpool and then he starts a trip across the ocean. If I married him, which I have no intention of doing, it would mean weeks of a journey to visit me.”

  “Oh well, two dances isn’t a marriage after all,” Rosalind responded, recovering quickly. “It will also be an opportunity for other local men to see you while you’re dancing.” She was not dismissing Mr Workman as a potential suitor, but the news had given her something to consider when promoting him.

  Grace just shook her head at her sister; so much for Rosalind being content with her choosing her own husband. It was clear Grace would need to be more on the alert in the future to anyone being introduced by Rosalind or Mrs Adams.

  *

  When Grace woke the morning after her ride out, she felt completely different than she had when she thought of that particular day ahead. Yes, she would need to sit through visits as she was expected too, but afterwards she could go and explore the gardens with the person that still filled her dreams.

  Whenever she looked at the Dianthus, she smiled. No one had ever done anything so thoughtful for her before. She picked out her gown, practical as always, but she had her hair set more carefully than she would have done normally. When she looked in the looking glass, she looked neat and practical; she sighed: it would have to do; she could not dress in her finest clothes. It would be seen as ridiculous by him and, more than anything, she wished for his good opinion. While dismissing her wishes, Grace had failed to notice the sparkle of anticipation in her eyes or the slight flush on her cheeks, giving her skin a natural glow and making her look even more appealing than she normally did.

  Finally released by Rosalind, Grace walked through the gardens, looking for her friend. Was he her friend, she wondered as she walked. He was very gruff and reticent when she spoke to him; yet she was drawn to him. She cursed herself; she was nothing more than a silly child. It didn’t matter what he was; he was a member of staff, first and foremost.

  She had gone as far as the orchard before she saw him. She had begun to think he was not in the gardens, so her face spread into a warm smile of relief and anticipation when she shouted her ‘Hello’ to catch his attention.

  Harry turned at her voice and watched her approach him. She looked as if she were shining, her smile was so bright, her eyes sparkling. He kept a tight grip on the handle of his spade; foolish behaviour would result in him being dismissed: he had to keep remembering that when his hands wanted to wrap her in an embrace. The problem was he was rational when she was nowhere near him but, as soon as she appeared, he itched to be able to touch her.

  “I thought I wasn’t going to find you,” she said as she approached him.

  “I’m always around,” he replied, his tone not unwelcoming but cool.

  “You haven’t changed your mind about showing me the growing areas, have you? I’ve been desperate to see them since yesterday; I would have preferred to look at them rather than spending the day away from Sudworth Hall,” Grace babbled. For some reason she was not as reticent with the man before h
er as she normally was with other men, especially strangers. It was probably due to her interest in the gardens, she mused, ignoring the flutterings she felt every time she was in his company.

  “I don’t go back on something when I’ve given my word,” he replied. “Follow me.” He turned and walked towards the hedge. When he reached it, Grace noticed a gap he reached through to open a gate leading to an area beyond.

  “Oh, a secret gate! How charming!” Grace exclaimed.

  “Hardly a secret; all the staff know of its location,” Harry replied with a slight raise of his brow.

  “It just seemed magical that’s all with the ivy covering it,” Grace said a little shame faced at being carried away with romantic notions. He was a grown man who was obviously practical and not accustomed to silly women spouting about secret gates. She would have been reassured if she had realised every time he looked at her, the usually cynical, dour man believed in magic of some sort. He would never be convinced she did not belong to some other world, she seemed so ethereal.

  “You would think different on a cold January morning with the prospect of spending hours outside. Magic is not in question then, just icy air and the prospect of a lot of hard work,” came the disparaging reply.

  They stepped through the doorway, and Grace entered into a very large kitchen garden. Staff were working, gathering what was needed for the kitchen and tending the vital area. Grace stepped back behind the head gardener a little; she was suddenly shy in front of other staff, even though they had not openly acknowledged her presence.

  Harry noticed the action, but did not comment on it. His automatic response at her hesitation had been of standing upright a little more and broadening his shoulders to shield her even further. It was an unconscious action on his part mainly because he was so aware of every movement or expression she made. He walked along the pathway that led to a stone archway without speaking. Through the arch were a number of glass houses, which he made his way towards. He opened the door of one of them and stepped inside.