The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [55]
“I don’t think she’s fair, if by that you mean beautiful.” They both looked down at Lucy. “She’s got very short fur, and there’s that bite on her eyelid.”
“O aye, she’s lost a bit of her eyelid. But her eyes themselves are a fair treat,” he offered. “Tail, too.”
“It’s a rat tail, though,” Olivia pointed out.
He knelt back down on the brown soil, shoulder to her. Then he said, as if to his plants, “There’s those as are decorative, like these flowers here will be. And then other flora that isn’t a bit pretty, not until the petals drop.”
Olivia came closer and peered past him. “Which flowers are unattractive until their petals drop?”
“Happen you walk in a cloud of petals jist dancing on the wind, then?”
She walked around so she was looking down at his weather-beaten cap, rather than his shoulder. “What a lovely description.”
“This little mistress,” he said, giving Lucy a nudge with his elbow that made the dog dizzy with delight, “is one of them as lift your heart when you’re ornery, though likely there are them as would prefer something feather-tailed and furred.”
Olivia found herself smiling down at Lucy. “You’re right, of course. I didn’t think much of her at first, but she’s dear to me now.” She bent over and peered at the ground. “What will those seedlings become?”
“Delphiniums.”
“The tall, purple ones?”
“Aye.”
Olivia frowned. “I thought those flowers need a great deal of sunshine. Will they get enough beneath this wall?”
“Her Grace likes them here, me lady.” Rich soil ran like rain through his fingers as he patted the ground around each little sprig.
“I hate to plant things that won’t live long. Perhaps the head gardener could teach Her Grace about delphiniums?”
He gave her a fleeting glance. “A lady likes her garden lush, neat, scented, sweet.”
“That rhymes,” Olivia said, thinking that Justin might learn from the gardener.
A warm hand suddenly touched her back. Olivia yelped and straightened.
“Miss Lytton,” the duke said, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I apologize for startling you.” He bowed. “I see you’ve met Riggle, our highly esteemed head gardener, who has been with us since I was all of six years old. Riggle, may I introduce Miss Lytton?”
Riggle looked over his shoulder and said something along the lines of “bain’t it.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Riggle,” Olivia said. “Good morning, Your Grace.” The duke had changed for riding as well. Breeches clung to muscular thighs; one quick glance made her heart speed to a red-and-gold beat.
Desire—for Olivia was not one to pretend to a more dignified emotion if the proper word presented itself—was proving to be an overwhelming sensation. She could imagine that fleeting touch of his hand down every limb.
Brother-in-law, she thought to herself. Brother-in-law.
“Don’t tell me she’s got you planting delphiniums again,” the duke said. He bent over and looked closely at the plant. “Yes, those are palmate leaves. I told her not to, Riggle.”
“Her Grace is a fierce believer,” the gardener said, patting down another small plant.
“In what?” Olivia inquired.
“Her plans,” the duke answered for Riggle. “My mother is apt to think that if everyone will simply adhere to a plan—preferably of her making—the world will be a sane and ordered place.”
“To hope that a flower will bloom despite lack of sun shows an extraordinary confidence in one’s plan,” Olivia observed.
“I am surrounded by relatives with pretentions to divine powers.” There was a spark deep in his eyes that spoke to her like a burst of laughter. It felt flammable, dangerous.
She couldn’t not smile back at him, even though his face was—to outward appearance—serious enough. Still: Brother-in-law, she thought again.
“Riggle, we will take our leave of you,” the duke said, taking Olivia’s arm. “Miss Lytton, I’ve had two mounts prepared for us. Justin has already driven the pony cart around to the front to meet Lady Cecily, since her ankle is still unsteady.”
Olivia said her good-bye to Riggle, and then walked in silence next to the duke. She had to say something . . . anything. It