such a dear.”
“I should not mind, Lady Beaumont, if you do not.” He barely stifled a laugh at her startled reaction. If he was willing to talk about her, Nicole must now know there was a grandmother! Still looking at her plate, she smiled and nodded, acknowledging defeat.
“A mind reader,” he said, clapping his hands slowly. “You have hit the nail on the head, my lady. She was always caring of me, and I got to spend much time with her when my parents were in Town. I will own she often tried to protect me from my parents and tutors when I … ahem, used bad judgment in my behavior.”
Her laughter conveyed her thoughts.
“You may tease all you like, my lady, but if you think that she always gives in to me, and does not give me a piece of her mind more often than not, no doubt you would be pleasantly surprised.”
Nicole laughed out loud at his absurdity.
“May I suggest, Lady Beaumont,” he said, “that we now go to the drawing room where I may meet your other, possibly more charming, daughter?”
Lady Beaumont became flustered with his teasing and could not tell whether to take him seriously or not. Devlin was almost overset when she gave a great sigh as she mumbled, “I am afraid, Lord Devlin, if you are truly hoping that Chelsea takes away any bad impression of the family, this evening is truly doomed.”
But despite Lady Beaumont’s predictions, the rest of the evening passed very pleasantly. Truth be told, more than pleasantly.
Nicole’s sister delighted him from the moment she was introduced to him. He thought how odd it was, considering he had little experience with thirteen-year-old girls. They enjoyed tea and dessert, and Nicole’s sister even convinced him to play a game of spillikins, which he had not played since he was a boy, and which he conveniently lost to her.
When Lady Beaumont had finally chided Chelsea that it was past her bedtime, Devlin decided to take his leave soon upon her heels. However, when he looked at Nicole, she was staring serenely into the fire. Her laughter and swift rejoinders convinced him she was aware of all that went on during the game, but he noticed that much of the time she was quiet and thoughtful. Instead of following his instincts, he acted upon a heretofore unknown desire to extend the evening.
Devlin addressed Lady Beaumont with a pleading air. “My dear ma’am, I know I should depart and allow you to seek your beds, but I wonder if I might ask your indulgence awhile longer. I could not help but notice your beautifully lit garden, and I hoped Lady Nicole would honor me with a brief view of it from your portico. We discovered the night we met on the Swathmore terrace that we shared an interest in things horticultural. I promise we will not actually venture onto the grounds. However, I should appreciate the opportunity to get a closer look than I had from the dining room.”
He knew his request was odd, and should Nicole’s mother be of a matchmaking bent, he could be jumping into the proverbial frying pan. But he believed Nicole’s intent never to marry, and he had actually invited her mother to join them to dash any hopes he might have raised.
“I am sure you do not need me along for a few moments of fresh air,” her mother had kindly answered. “Indeed, I should only be in your way.” He was caught unawares as she then finished, “Toby will be chaperon enough, to be sure.”
He had hoped his astonishment had not shown as she bid them both good-night and cautioned her daughter not to stay outside long enough to catch a chill.
He had learned from the afternoon not to let his confusion over the servant cause an outburst of anger, but he felt the need to defend himself anyway. In a polite but serious tone he stated, “I promise I do not intend to compromise you by my request, Nicole.” He had risen and gone to her chair to take her hand and place it upon his arm.
She shook her head and laughed as they wandered onto the terrace. “My lord, you must stop seeing Toby as a threat. I’ve tried to explain that Toby is a fixture in our lives and we often take his presence for granted. In fact, you have made me quite conscious of the fact that we do not appreciate him as we should.” Before he could respond, she laughed again. “Be assured my mother would never have allowed this without Toby’s presence.”
Devlin had to lean closer to hear her words, a habit he had come to enjoy in earnest. She led him to a bench at the end of the terrace. “Would you like to sit a moment?”
Devlin could not see the large servant, but he assumed her lowered voice meant that he was near and that she did not wish him to hear their conversation.
Nicole instantly began to talk of the garden now twinkling in front of them. Her love of it was very obvious to him, and his own interest was piqued by their mutual pursuit.
“It was Mr. Benson, our gardener, who thought of interspersing the plants with covered lanterns so it could be savored by day or night. He allows me the honor of the plants on the veranda, but the garden is his domain.” She sat quietly a moment. “I feel so close to God when I am out of doors. I am amazed that His creation is available to us just by sitting amidst a small garden.” He had waited for such an opening, when alone, to discuss this God she and his grandmother allowed to pervade their lives. Would now be the time?
Quite unexpectedly she said, “Devlin, close your eyes.” She leaned her head back against the rough brick while closing hers. He was so surprised he had not even time to enjoy her use of his name.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I am not a lunatic! Close your eyes and tell me what you smell.”
He felt a little foolish, but did as he was bid. “I suppose flowers would be too obvious?”
She giggled, then shushed him. “God has given us five wonderful senses. What a waste not to use them all. Try again.”
He sat with his eyes closed and wondered if she was a little more than he bargained for, when suddenly a specific scent overcame him. “I believe I smell roses. Are we near roses?”
“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed as if she were a teacher happy with her student’s progress. “The trellis next to us has climbing roses. They are my favorite.”
He felt exuberant, just because he had pleased her! He suddenly anticipated a continuation of this exercise.
“But they are the flowers that are closest to you,” she said. “You must try again, but now you must get past the roses. Try to determine some others.”
His pleasure quickly dissipated. It had proven harder than it seemed, and he had worried about disappointing her. His only hope was to turn the tables.
“What do you smell, Nicole?”
She took a long time to speak and he wondered if she had heard him. He opened his eyes to await her reply and decided he was content to simply watch her.
“I, too, smell the roses. But when I get past the roses I can smell grass, freshly scythed. And, of course, I smell the fishpond. When the passion flowers fall into the water, it changes their scent. It goes from a cloying sweet one to an amazingly pungent one. But flowers are only a part of it. I can smell the smoke from the chimney and the new hay from Mr. Loft’s stable. It makes me think of the country and wagon rides.”
She had grown quiet again, but seemed perfectly relaxed.
And he had been surprised. He had been able to smell those things, too, when she had pointed them out. He was sure he would never view his horticultural interest in the same way!
But Nicole began to speak again. “I can picture Mr. Keats in such a setting as this when he wrote,
‘And in the midst of this wide quietness/A rosy sanctuary will I dress/with the wreath’d trellis of a working brain/with buds, and bell, and stars without name …’”
Then she had told him, a little shyly, “I also smell you. I mean, your cologne. I am not familiar with it but I remember it from the night we met on the terrace.