And as Honoria watched Anne laughing and brushing Burwood’s arm with her fan, knowing Anne as she did, she questioned if Drake’s assessment of Anne was true.
CHAPTER 23
The house was mercifully quiet the next day as Drake strode through its halls. The night before, Simon had announced he had nothing planned before the upcoming ball, and people could choose whatever recreation they wished at their leisure.
Many ventured outside to explore the grounds and gardens. Others decided to spend the day writing letters or reading in one of the many rooms. A few gathered in parlors for whist or other card games.
Most stayed away from the ballroom as servants worked to prepare it, setting up a dais for the orchestra, chairs for people who wished to rest, and tables for refreshments.
Drake wandered outside, seeking the solitude of the orangery. He loved the smell inside, especially when the trees blossomed, the citrusy scent reminding him of Honoria. Lush plants and the leaves from the trees provided shelter from the vast glass windows and domed roof magnifying the sunlight that allowed the trees to flourish.
After plucking a ripe orange from a branch, he settled on a bench and, using his thumb, poked a hole into the fruit. The sweet fragrance drifted up, enticing him, and he lifted the orange to his lips and sucked out the delicious nectar. A bit of juice dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with his fingers.
He chuckled to himself. Not an appropriate behavior for a duke. But for Drake Merrick, groom to Lord Stratford, it had been perfect. He remembered the orangery Stratford had on his estate, although he’d not been allowed inside.
Until, one day in April after a ride, Honoria had pulled him by the hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” Her eyes were full of mischief. Not something he saw often but admitted he liked.
“What are you up to, my lady?”
She turned her pretty smile on him, and his knees buckled. “You’ll see.”
As she tugged him along, he glanced around, expecting someone to stop them at any moment. Excitement bubbled in his veins as she approached the orangery.
He stared like a dolt, his mouth surely hanging open when they stepped inside and the fragrance surrounded him. The trees were in blossom and he had never seen nor smelled anything quite like it.
“What do you think?” she asked. Complete seriousness had replaced the playfulness on her countenance, as if her world hinged upon his approval.
“It’s . . . magnificent. I heard my father talking about it, but I had no idea it was so wonderful.” He inhaled a deep breath of the intoxicating aroma.
She turned in a circle. “It is, isn’t it? It’s one of my favorite places.” She grabbed his hand again, pulling him farther into the building. “And look.” She plucked a ripe orange from the tree and handed it to him.
“There are oranges and blossoms at the same time?” It was miraculous.
“Yes. The oranges take a long time to ripen, so the blossoms are for new ones. Try one.” She gave him a little push on his arm.
He pulled the knife from his pocket, but she shook her head.
“Wait. Let me show you how I do it.” She plucked another orange and poked it with her thumb. A spritz of juice sprayed out, and she laughed. “Father would frown upon this way of getting at the juice, but I love it.” She placed the orange to her mouth and sucked.
His heart stopped.
“Go on then.” She nudged him again.
Suddenly, an echo of voices in the vast room popped the memory, and it dissipated like mist.
“In here,” a feminine voice said.
He rose and peeked through the branches. Lady Charlotte and Anne Weatherby stood beneath one of the large trees.
“What is it?” Anne asked. From the tone of her voice, he expected her to stamp her foot like a child.
“Someone has to talk sense into you. I’ve elected myself.”
Anne snorted. “You would.”
Drake wished there was another door he could exit without being seen. Instead, he remained rooted, trying not to listen.
“Honoria may put up with your disrespect, but at the moment, it’s only you and I here.”
