Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The roses were not yet in bloom. The lack of flowers in no way inhibited the beauty of the garden, narrow paths of white gravel and a small maze of stones laid out on the way towards a gazebo, pleasantly situated in the center of it all. The gazebo's trellised walls had long disappeared beneath the foliage of the roses-in-waiting, and Regan brushed a surreptitious hand across her brow as she sent up a prayer of thanks for the shade the lush greenery provided.

She'd exchanged her battered bonnet for one in better shape, though in her haste she'd tied the ribbon too tight and now the thing irritated her throat. Small wonder she never wore a hat unless in company, no matter the risk of a tan and freckles that Aunt Agnes seemed to take tremendous pleasure in warning her about. Itchy, uncomfortable tools of torture, hats were. Even worse than stays, in her opinion. And only marginally worse than stockings.

But there she sat, properly laced and stockinged and hatted, while Katharine dispersed tea cups and milk and strawberry tarts. Even Jack and Maria behaved marginally well on the other side of the garden, following the progress of a turtle they'd followed up from the stream.

"I must say, I am surprised to see two gentleman such as yourselves already abandoning London for the country." Regan sipped at her tea, which was ridiculously sweet, just as she liked it. "Have the delights of town lost their lustre so soon?"

"I had business to attend to," Mr. Talbot said, his smile faltering at the edges. "As my father's health declines, more of the responsibility of caring for our family's estate falls to me. Not that I am one to complain!" he added quickly, and with a brief glance in Katharine's direction. "It will all fall on my shoulders one day, so I guess it is better to be prepared in advance, don't you think?"

Regan smiled and nodded, though she assumed it was to Katharine alone that he was determined to impress his ability to take on the family yoke.

"And what of you, Mr. Cranmer?" Regan said, pushing the conversation along while she glanced through the leaves covering the gazebo. Jack and Maria's heads could still be seen bobbing behind a hedge, having abandoned the turtle for an impromptu game of leapfrog. "Do you hail from Kent originally?"

"Oh, much farther north!" Mr. Talbot put in, his grin returned to its former glory.

"This is my first visit to Kent," Mr. Cranmer said, the first time he'd strung together more than two or three words since her introduction to him. "I've only been here a few days, my lady. But I do hope to see some of the sights before everyone else follows our flight to the country in escape of the heat."

His voice... There was a heaviness, a definite burr to his words. Was he Scottish? Lord, she was terrible with accents. Some people, she knew, would be able to hear a few words and have no difficulty pinning the speaker down to the very avenue of their birth. But the most she could dare to assume was that this Mr. Cranmer did not hail from anywhere south of Leicester.

"I do hope you enjoy your stay," she said sincerely. "And please don't disregard my invitation to fish or shoot on our property as mere politeness. We're nearly overrun with deer, and poor Jack alone can catch only so many trout."

"Thank you, my lady." He dipped his chin, and when he raised his face again, there was a small smile at the corners of his mouth. And with that smile, his eyes gleamed, more grey than blue in the small measure of sunlight that shone through the leaves.

She watched him then, finally returning her gaze to the cup of tea Katharine had poured for her and that had already begun to turn cool. Mr. Talbot had managed to draw Katharine into conversation, and was gesturing to various parts of the garden while she elaborated on the features and when they had been built.