Then Comes Seduction

They breathed in the mingled scents of sage, mint, lavender, and myriad flowers, and Katherine closed her eyes and sighed with what sounded very like contentment.

Jasper had never really understood what had drawn him to that old painting in the attic to the extent that he had almost instantly determined to restore the parterres as they had been a century ago, with adaptations of his own. If he had thought of it at all, he would have given a negative reason-the artificiality of such a garden beyond the front doors and directly below the drawing room windows would have horrified his mother’s second husband and therefore must be recreated. Perhaps his decision to make it a sunken garden and therefore very difficult to remove and obliterate at any future date had been a final act of defiance to the hated memory.

But a positive had come out of that negative motive. The garden was both beautiful and peaceful, though he had never thought of that latter fact until Katherine had used the word.

Strange that, when the garden was in full view of the house and of any carriage approaching it.

“Is solitude necessary for peace?” he asked her.

She opened her eyes.

“Perhaps not,” she said, “if one is in harmony with one’s surroundings and any companion with whom one shares them.”

“But not someone who talks a great deal?” he said.

She smiled.

“Is this,” he asked her when she said nothing, “another case of wearing the boot if it fits?”

“No,” she said. “I am feeling perfectly at peace even when you talk. I love it here.”

“Do you?” he asked her. “Here in the garden? Or here at Cedarhurst?”

“Both,” she said.

“And with present company?” he asked her.

“You remind me,” she said, still smiling, “of a little boy seeking approval.”

Good Lord!

“Whereas in reality,” he said, “I am a big, bad boy wondering if he dares steal a kiss-if kissing is permitted, that is. Is it?”

“In full view of the house?” she said. “And any servants who happen to be peeping out at us? It is said that servants know their employers better than anyone else, that there is no hiding anything of significance from them. How long will it be before they know us and our marriage as well as we do? Even as long as a month?”

She had not answered his question about kissing.

He was feeling remarkably contented, considering the fact that he had got married just two days ago under the worst possible circumstances and agreed on his wedding night to a whole month of celibacy.

It felt surprisingly good to be home.

With Katherine.

Despite what he had said in the gallery about friendship with women, he had the odd feeling that he could become comfortable with Katherine’s companionship.

Comfortable?

Companionship?

Peace was shattered in a sudden surge of panic.

Good Lord and devil take it, he was a married man.

And if that realization was not terrifying enough, there was the added conviction-it suddenly occurred to him and took him completely by surprise-that he did not really approve of adultery. One reason he had hated that viper of a second husband of his mother’s with such intensity was that for all his piety and righteousness he had kept a mistress not twenty miles away and had visited her regularly twice a week from the time of his marriage until his death.

Oh, yes, Katherine had spoken a greater truth than she realized just a moment ago. Servants did indeed know all there was to know about their masters-or, in this case, about their master’s stepfather and self-appointed guardian.

No, dash it all, he did not believe in adultery.

Comfort and companionship would be something, he supposed. But there was going to have to be more. There was going to have to be. He was definitely not cut out for either celibacy or a companionable, decorous exercise of his marital rights once a week or so.

“This,” she said, indicating the parterres, “was what you described as your first tentative step to making Cedarhurst your own. And it was a magnificent step. What will your second be, Jasper? And your third?”

“Must there be a second and third?” he asked with a sigh. “Have I not exerted myself enough for one lifetime?”

“Is everything about the house and the park perfect, then?” she asked him. “Are you content to live with everything as it is for the rest of your life?”

“Well,” he said, “since moving into the east wing-and exerting myself to refurbish my bedchamber, I would have you know-I have been dissatisfied with the sight of the long stretch of lawn below my window. There is nothing to look at but grass and trees in the distance. But I can hardly have parterres put there too.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “I had the same thought, though, when I looked out of my window this morning. There ought to be flowers down there so that they can be smelled from the bedchambers. And seen, of course. A rose garden, perhaps, though I would prefer to keep a rose garden small rather than have it fill that whole space-a rose arbor rather than a full garden.”

“With an apple orchard beyond it,” he said. “There is no orchard in the park. I always rather like seeing trees planted in straight rows like soldiers.”

“And blooming in the spring,” she said, turning a glowing face his way. “Oh, there is nothing more magical.”

“And heavy with fruit in the late summer,” he said. “To be plucked at will.”

She jumped to her feet and reached out a hand to him. “Let us go and look,” she said. “Let us go and see if it will be possible to have both. Though I am sure it will.”

He looked up at her and her outstretched hand and felt something in his soul shift. Perhaps it was nothing more than an easing of guilt. Maybe marriage would suit her after all, even with a man she would not have chosen in a million years if she could have made a free choice. And even without someone who could be heart of her heart and soul of her soul. As soon as the month was over, he was going to start working on giving her babies. She would surely be a wonderful mother-one who would enjoy her children. Had she not taught young children at that village in which she had grown up?

And before the month was over he was going to be able to look her in the eye without even having to make use of what she called his mask and tell her that he loved her. Even if he did not know quite what he meant by the words, he was going to say them. And mean them too as far as he was able.

He stood up and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

“Very well, then,” he said with a sigh. “But you are not envisioning me with a shovel in my hands, digging holes for the apple trees, are you, Katherine?”

Ah, he loved to see her laugh.

“No, of course not,” she said. “I picture you wielding an axe and a saw, making and erecting trellises and arches for my rose arbor.”

“Good Lord,” he said. “And yours, is it?”

“And remember,” she said, “that you will be taking yet another step toward full independence at the end of the month. You will be hosting a revival of the Cedarhurst fete and ball.”

“I am going to be ru

“Definitely,” she said.

“With you as a partner?”

“Must I?” she asked him.

“You must,” he assured her.

“Oh, very well, then.”

“And I am going to be judging embroidered angels and flowers, am I?” he asked.

“I will do that,” she told him. “You may taste the fruit tarts.”

“Hmm,” he said. “And waltz with you during the evening?”

“Yes,” she said.

They strolled along the terrace in the direction of the east side of the house just like a contentedly married couple.

A mildly panic-provoking thought.