Page 165

Feeling unsettled, Adrian made his way down the corridor, hoping the delicately colored engravings would serve as a tonic to his spirits.

Though the heavy oak door was open, the library appeared to be deserted, just as he had hoped.

However as he stepped inside and drew near to the carved bookcases, he caught sight of a figure seated on the sofa, head bent in earnest study of a large leatherbound volume.

He bit back an oath, then realized it was Miss Edwards.

She looked up abruptly, sending a small sketchbook sliding from her lap to the floor. "Oh!"

He bent down to retrieve it, just beating her outstretched fingers in scooping it up. "Most young ladies would prefer to spend an evening partnered by a young gentleman rather than an old book," he remarked dryly.

"I-I was just making a few notations in between sets," she stammered. "Besides, I am not at all like most young ladies."

"I shall not argue with you on that account," he said with a smile.

As he spoke, he stole a look through several of the smudged pages of the notebook and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

The drawings were a mixture of skillful plant renderings along with schematic plans for their use.

Even a cursory glance revealed a marked talent for detail and a bold sense of design.

"Why, these are quite good," he murmured.

Derrien tried to snatch the book from his hands. "Please sir, give it back. Those drawings are not meant for anyone but me."

He ignored her plea and flipped to a double page plan. "Is this for something specific?"

"I—"

Her answer was interrupted by the arrival of another person.

"Well, well, forgive me if I am intruding on some private meeting.

" Lord Hertford paused to light up a thin cheroot.

"Though I must say, Marquand, if I were engaged to such a paragon of beauty as the lovely Lady Honoria I should keep my breeches tightly buttoned until after the wedding.

Innocents can be quite unreasonable about such things, until they are taught the way of the world"

Derrien's cheeks turned flame red, whether from anger or embarrassment, Adrian wasn't sure. But before he could make a reply, she snapped her own quick retort. "It is obvious where your thoughts tend to dwell, sir, but Lord Marquand and I were simply discussing gardens."

"Really?" The marquess's lip curled up at one corner as he let out a lazy puff of smoke. "Have you an interest in such things as sowing seeds, Miss Edwards?"

"That's quite enough, Hertford.,” warned Adrian. “I suggest you finish blowing a cloud out on the terrace before I am forced to demand an apology to the young lady."

He feigned a look of innocence. "Apology?

My dear Marquand, I was merely asking Miss Edwards about her interest in gardens.

" He turned to Derrien and made an exaggerated bow.

"Forgive me, Miss Edwards, if you have misunderstood my words.

I have heard from some of the locals that you have a talent for creating some very pretty designs.

In fact, why not stop by Gravely Manor sometime to discuss what flowers might be added to my collection.

Naturally, I would be willing to pay for your services. "

"Hell will freeze over before I set foot anywhere near your estate," she said under her breath. In a louder voice she answered, "I doubt our tastes would suit."

"Oh, my tastes are very eclectic, Miss Edwards."

Her face twisted into an expression of disgust. "Your tastes are of no interest to any civilized person."

Hertford's brows arched up. "Dear me, these Scottish lasses may have a certain prettiness but their manners do tend to be a bit rough on the edges, don't you think, Marquand?"

Adrian took a step toward the other man, one hand curling in an involuntary fist. The Marquess gave a negligent flick of his cheroot, letting the ash fall onto the thick Oriental carpet.

"Oh, no need for you to work yourself into a lather.

I would have thought you had done quite enough of that out on the links this afternoon.

" Before the viscount could make an answer, the other man turned and strolled from the room.

"Odious beast," she muttered.

"I'm sorry you had to endure such vile remarks, but it would only have caused an unpleasant scene all around had I planted him a facer."

Derrien flashed a brief smile. "No doubt you would have enjoyed knocking the smirk off his face for his behavior on the golf course?—"

Adrian spun around, wondering how in the devil she could possibly be aware of the earlier confrontation. "How do you know about that?" he demanded, fixing her with a searching look.

"Err..." She swallowed hard. "Well, Mr. Philp stopped by my aunt's house... on his way home and mentioned something of the matter." Quickly changing the subject, she held out her hand once again. "My drawings, if you please, sir. I would really prefer that you give them back immediately."

"Why?" Instead of returning the sketchbook, he thumbed back to the design that covered two facing pages. "This is quite wonderful. Is it for somewhere real or simply a place that you see in your mind's eye?"

She hesitated, and then released a sigh.

"It is a part of a plan for Rossdhu House, on Loch Lomond.

A good friend—a male friend, naturally—has garnered a commission from the Laird of the Calhoun Clan to design a garden along the water's edge.

One of his assistants has been taken ill, so he asked me to lend a hand with part the project.

These are some sketches for a section that is to incorporate the ruins of a sixteenth century stone tower. "

"And this?" His finger pointed to an irregular shaded area that appeared in several places on the plan.

"Rhododendron bushes. The Laird has a fancy for them and wishes to have as many as possible incorporated into the final design."

"Ah yes, we all must—" He gave a slight cough to cover up the slip of the tongue.

Damnation, he must be careful, but it was remarkably easy to talk freely with Miss Edwards.

"That is, all designers must learn to accede to the requests of their patrons.

" He took a seat beside her on the sofa. "What is that line?"

Derrien laid aside the heavy leatherbound volume of prints. "Oh, that."

Her nose scrunched up in a certain way that caused the viscount to search his thoughts for where he has seen such an expression before. It was awfully familiar, and yet he couldn't quite place it.

"I'm afraid I'm having a bit of difficulty deciding how to deal with the path along the loch. I had thought of a low yew hedge, but it feels too... heavy."

Adrian grabbed up her pencil and without thinking turned to a blank page. "Had you considered..." His hand flew in a few deft strokes, sketching in a rough outline of what he had in mind.

She stared at the bold squiggles and delicate shadings and drew in a sharp breath. "Good Lord," she whispered. Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. "You are... him , aren't you?"

With a silent oath, he dropped his gaze and snapped the sketchpad closed.

How could he have been such a gudgeon as to let his childish enthusiasm sweep aside all common sense!

In an instant, he had put all his of hard work at risk, for he couldn't afford to have his identity revealed quite yet, at least not until his commission for the Duke was completed.

"I don't know what you are talking about," he said coolly, handing the book back to her.

"Oh yes, you do." Her eyes remained locked on his rigid features. "You are Chitley. I would recognize that style anywhere."

He swore again, this time out loud, as he realized the futility of further denial.

She was too sharp by half to be taken in by any farriddle he might try to spin.

"Well, now you know my dirty little secret, Miss Edwards.

However, I would appreciate it greatly of you would not mention it to anyone else. "

"But why on earth would you wish to hide the fact that you are one of the most gifted garden designers in all the realm?" she blurted out.

"Because, my dear Miss Edwards, a gentleman does not dirty his hands in trade. You think I would be showered with accolades by my peers? Not likely! I should be looked upon with scorn, forfeiting what little respect the Linsley family name still has after the escapades of my two rackety parents."

He raked a hand through his hair. "No, until I have finished the large commission I am working on and am firmly established in my ancestral home, I cannot afford to have my real identity revealed."

It was a moment before she spoke. "As you know, sir, I am very good at keeping secrets. You needn't fear that I will tell anyone—that is, on one condition."

A stab of disappointment knifed into him at her last words. From her, such a mercenary proposal was somehow unexpected, and thus hurt all the more. "And what is that?” he asked in a hard voice. What could she possibly want out of him?

She hesitated on seeing his grim expression. "I was hoping you might give me some further advice on how to deal with the walkway," she said in a small voice. "But if you are too busy to be bothered?—"

The tight press of his lips relaxed into a true smile. The idea of helping Miss Edwards with her project was infinitely appealing, and the prospect of what promised to be a lengthy time together nearly caused him to grin like some idiotic schoolboy.

"No, really—I should be delighted to give you a more detailed opinion. Let me think on it for a bit so that I might give you more than just a passing impression."

She nodded and her fingers toyed with the cover of her pad. "You may not be able to acknowledge in public the praise that is due you, but at least Lady Honoria must be very proud of your accomplishments."

A harsh. "Neither she nor her parents would be in the least amused if they knew I was Chitley."