The Importance of Being Wicked. Victoria Alexander
moment. “Ah, yes. You said my representation of Garret and Tempest was unbecoming. That my place was at home.”
He winced. “I said that, did I?”
“And with a great deal of conviction.”
“I hope you won’t hold that against me.”
“Oh, but I will.”
“And if I apologize?”
“If your apology is sincere.”
“I’ll have you know I rarely make insincere apologies,” he said staunchly. “If I have reached the conclusion that I was wrong, then I am more than willing to admit it.”
“I see. And were you wrong?”
“I was certainly wrong to be so adamant, so pompous.”
“But you do believe a woman has no place in business and should remain at home.”
“I think . . .” He chose his words carefully. “All of us—male or female—have our own reasons for deciding to do what we feel we must. Or perhaps what we want. We must be content with our choices, with choosing the course of action we feel is right, whether or not other people agree.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What an excellent answer, my lord. It certainly wasn’t the answer to my question but a good answer nonetheless.”
“Thank you.” He grinned. “Oh, my mother asked that I give you this.” He pulled a note from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her.
“And you have quite deftly changed the subject.” She accepted the note and unfolded it.
“Clever of me, wasn’t it?”
“But then you are a very clever man,” she said under her breath. It did not sound like a compliment.
“Well?”
“Well, this is interesting.”
“Has she invited you for tea again?” He pulled the carriage to a halt, hopped out and circled around to help her down.
“In a manner of speaking.” She refolded the note, reached out to accept the offer of his hand and allowed him to help her out of the gig. Her attire today was far more casual than at their previous meetings. With the exception of her dreadful shoes—which seemed to be permanently attached to her feet—her apparel had always been moderately fashionable, if reserved, and perfectly proper, as it was today. It was simply more practical in style, almost as if she intended to pick up a hammer herself. He wouldn’t put it past her. Her gloved hand fit nicely in his and the vaguest hint of loss washed through him when she pulled her hand away. She looked around. “I’m afraid I don’t see much in terms of architectural interest. Although the trees and road appear structurally sound.”
“We’re not there yet.” He pulled a basket from the back of the gig.
She raised a brow. “A picnic, my lord?”
“It did seem a shame to waste a fine spring day on nothing but work.”
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded, and he had the distinct impression she had made some sort of decision. She smiled. “It does indeed.”
He returned her smile. Thus far, this was going better than he had hoped, but then Lady Garret’s manner was somehow different today. And most delightful.
“It’s just down this path.”
She eyed the narrow path warily. “Why don’t you go first?”
“Excellent idea.” He started down the path and looked back at her over his shoulder. “I never thought I would admit to this, but those shoes of yours should serve you well today.”
“They are sensible.”
“That’s not all they are.” He chuckled. “I do apologize that the path is not smoother, but it’s scarcely used. Indeed there wasn’t a path here at all until a few years ago. The only way to get to where we are going was on horseback or by foot. But I decided a path to the road would be convenient.”
“Convenient to what?”
“You shall see.” They walked on for a few more minutes until the path opened up. He stepped aside and allowed her to precede him. Then held his breath.
“Oh my.” Lady Garret stared at the small structure centered in the clearing.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s lovely.” Her eyes widened and she stepped closer. “It looks like a Grecian temple.”
Six stone columns on a six-sided base supported a domed roof. Stone benches curved between two pairs of columns. The building nestled amidst flowering spring blossoms and a neatly manicured lawn. A ray of sunlight peeked through the trees and cast the small structure in a radiant glow. He bit back a satisfied grin. Perfect.
“I daresay it’s more someone’s idea of a Greek temple and probably not at all accurate. It’s a folly, really.”
“I’ve always loved follies.” She ran her hand up one of the columns. “It’s marble, isn’t it?”
“I believe so.” He had loved this building and this spot from the time he had first found it as a boy. “It was built some two hundred years ago.”
“The columns are ionic,” she murmured. “It’s really quite . . .” She glanced at him. “Magical, isn’t it?”
“I’ve always thought so.” He smiled. “If one is here at night, depending on the time of year, one might see fireflies flitting about like dancing fairies.”
“How very whimsical of you, my lord.”
“I can be very whimsical.” He paused. “When I was a boy I thought this surely was where Titania and Oberon and all of the fairies lived. I was convinced they came out at night to frolic in the clearing.”
She nodded. “Because of the Grecian style of the folly and the fact that A Midsummer Night’s Dream is set outside Athens?”
“Not really. More because I hoped to catch one and I believed this was the best place to do that.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “They’re supposed to grant wishes, you see.”
“Ah, yes. Well, of course.” She nodded solemnly. “I can see where that might be useful.”
He heaved a theatrical sigh. “I never did catch a fairy.”
“And you never got your wish.” Sympathy sounded in her voice, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.
“However, I have not given up.”
“On catching a fairy?”
“On getting a wish.” His gaze caught hers and they laughed in unison. He liked her laugh. Better yet, he liked making her laugh.
“And what would you wish for?”
“It changes from day to day, I suppose.” Win waved her into the folly. “When I was a little boy I wanted to fly.”
“In a balloon, you mean.” She stepped into the folly and settled on one of the benches.
“No.” He scoffed and moved to the opposite bench. “I wanted wings. I thought flying would be a most convenient way to get about. And, of course, as my cousin wouldn’t have wings, I could lord my wings over him.”
“I see. And now what do you wish for?”
“Well, I would still like wings, however I do now understand the impracticality of such appendages.”
“So your wishes have become more practical?”
“We all grow up, Lady Garret.” He set the basket down and opened it. “For one thing, I wish my tailor would be more accurate with my measurements.”