Page 5 of The Wayward Lady (The Wayward Widows of Willoughby Hall #1)
O ver the next few weeks, Lavender spent more and more time with Kendrick. Despite her initial hesitation, he had done nothing untoward, nothing to make her think he thought of her as anything more than a friend. On the one hand, that was a relief because it made all her fears about falling for him moot. However, she couldn’t help wishing she was elegant and graceful like Genevieve, smart and witty like Eden, or drop-dead gorgeous like Daphne. It would be a great boost to her self-esteem—which Geoffrey had completely destroyed—if Kendrick acted as though he were the least little bit attracted to her.
Sometimes, when she was with him, she still felt like the girl she had once been instead of a matronly old widow who had let herself get a little too round. It was no wonder he had no interest in her in that way.
But she greatly enjoyed their time together, either walking along the beach or working in his garden. Though she had given up all thoughts of trying to design the one at Willoughby Hall, she still liked being amongst the lovely blooms and scents of his. And there was always weeding to be done. She found it invigorating and loved the way it made her feel to have actually accomplished something tangible at the end of the day.
He even occasionally talked through some of the issues he was having moving forward in his latest book, and he seemed to like her suggestions. If nothing else, it meant a lot to her that he trusted her enough to have such discussions with her. She had never been around a man who treated her as though her thoughts had merit and might actually be worth listening to.
All in all, she felt like they were becoming true friends, and she was grateful to have him in her life, though their deepening friendship was something she kept to herself. Her friends had no idea how much time she was spending with him. Not because she didn’t think they would understand but because it still seemed fragile. As though if she tried to put a name to it, she might ruin it.
One afternoon, as she was once again sketching in his garden, he peered over her shoulder. “That truly is very good.”
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she quickly snapped her sketchbook closed, very aware that a couple of pages back, she had made a sketch of him. In fact, she had spent a very enjoyable evening trying to capture his image on paper. What would he think of that if he knew? Would he read more into it than she had intended? And what had she intended? All she knew was that she liked to draw beautiful things, and he was beautiful to her.
“I like drawing flowers,” she said, trying to accept the praise instead of immediately denying it. “They’re actually more challenging than you might think.”
“I was thinking...” He hesitated, then sat down on the bench beside her. “A while back, I started a nonfiction book on flowers. I thought of calling it A Gardener’s Compendium of Blossoms and Blooms: The Floral Treasures of Southeast England . Isn’t that a mouthful?” He gave a rough laugh and shook his head. “I stopped writing it because I can’t draw for shite, and it needed some illustrations.”
She caught her breath. Was he asking what she thought he was asking?
“What do you think?” he asked when she remained silent. “Would you like to work together on it? I would write the text, and you’d do the drawings?”
“Oh, Kendrick,” she breathed. “I would love to.”
He gave her a rare smile. “I think we could make something really incredible together.”
“I think so, too,” she agreed, so overwhelmed she could hardly gather her thoughts. “What do you need me to do?”
“I will make a list of illustrations that need to be completed. If we sell it, I will split the profits with you.”
The thought of having some money of her own, even if it was just a small amount, made her a little giddy. What would it be like to actually earn her own money? And by doing something that she loved, no less?
“I will have my solicitor draw up some legal papers,” he assured her. “I want to do this right.”
She nodded, a smile stretching from ear to ear. “Thank you. For giving me a purpose. For trusting me to do something like this. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate it.”
“I should have thought of it sooner,” he said ruefully. “The first time I saw your sketches.”
She didn’t even try to rein in her enthusiasm. “What should I sketch first? I would like to get started right away.”
He didn’t try to dissuade her or tell her to settle down the way Geoffrey would have. Instead, he gestured around the garden. “We need dozens of illustrations. Start with your favorites. You like the calla lilies, don’t you?”
“I do. That’s a wonderful idea.” The fact that he had noticed her interest in them warmed her heart even more. She didn’t think Geoffrey had ever noticed anything about her, even after all their years together. He had never cared about her interests. In his mind, she had been nothing but an extension of him.
Kendrick made her feel seen in a way she had never experienced before.
Picking up her sketchbook, she moved to the calla lilies, which encircled the base of an ancient oak in a rainbow of colors. She sat down in a patch of grass, the sun warming her skin, completely focused on the task at hand. Was this what Eden felt like while poring over her ancient texts?
After she had finished, she finally looked up to see where Kendrick had gone. To her surprise, she found him stretched out on the stone bench behind her, fast asleep. For a long moment, she simply gazed at him, lost in the intimacy of the moment. For it was a very intimate thing to watch someone slumber. No one was ever as vulnerable as when they slept. It touched her that he felt comfortable enough around her to do so.
Getting to her feet, she moved toward him, taking in the sweep of his dark lashes against his cheeks and the fall of his russet hair over his forehead. Standing over him, she wanted nothing more than to brush a kiss against those full lips.
No matter how many times she told herself to stay away from him, she was repeatedly drawn back to his side. If only he would give her the slightest indication that he felt even a fraction of what she felt for him...
Shaking herself, she stifled a laugh. What was wrong with her? He had just given her a way to fill her time and even a possible way to make some money. The last thing she wanted was to ruin their budding friendship with her silly longings for more.
Tiptoeing away, she made her way back to Willoughby Hall, leaving him sleeping in the sun.
W hen Kendrick awoke, Lavender was nowhere to be found. It embarrassed him a bit to have fallen asleep while she sketched, but it also surprised him. He had trouble sleeping under the best of circumstances, tossing and turning for hours before dreams finally claimed him.
But he’d stretched out on the bench, gazing at the way Lavender’s blond braid fell across her shoulder, the way she’d focused so intently on the calla lily in front of her, and sleep had found him almost instantly.
He smiled faintly as he swung to a sitting position, glad that he had been able to help her find something that truly interested her.
He really had started writing a book on flowers last year, but he’d had no intention of following through with it until he’d seen her latest sketch this afternoon. He thought the book would sell well with such gorgeous illustrations, but he didn’t care if it made a penny as long as it made her happy. Plus, it gave him an excuse to spend more time with her.
He glanced around for Daisy and found his loyal companion sleeping near where Lavender had been sitting when he’d last seen her. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one who was enamored with his neighbor and felt comfortable enough to sleep in her presence.
“Come, Daisy,” he called, and she startled awake. She looked around as though also searching for Lavender, then lumbered to her feet and took her sweet time ambling over to him. He shook his head and returned to the house, eager to begin working with Lavender tomorrow.