Louisa blinked at the sight.
Why did that rigid posture look so familiar? She squinted, her eyes raking over every inch of the man. Broad shoulders. Long legs. Hah! That was because hewasfamiliar!
Mortimer!
Lawks. There was no mistaking his build.
She leaped to her feet and strode over to the window, peering hard through the glass. Was he... dressed as a gardener? He might be wearing the clothes of one, and they might be well-worn and dulled by sun and soil, and they might even have belonged to a gardener, but they did not belong tohim.
Louisa suddenly laughed.
So much for waiting patiently until she sent word to him. She should have known! That man wasn’t capable of standing aside without lifting a finger. Given the lengths he had gone to sneaking into her house,thiscould be considered almost nothing.
But it wasn’t good either. What if someone recognized him and told her father?
No, no, no. This wouldn’t do!
How can the man be so blasted confident? He didn’t look anything like a gardener. No amount of humble clothing could hide the fact that he was a man born of station. A high station. He stood too straight, too assured, more like a man accustomed to giving orders than one who spent his days bent over flowerbeds.
Authority bled from every one of his pores.
If he wanted to look the part, he should at the very least try to act the part.
Dig up a plant, Duke!
Her stepmother ran the household with an iron fist. She received reports from her servants about all the other servants. This gardener would be reported, Louisa was sure.
She strode to the door, intent on sending a duke home. She would toss him bodily off her property if she had to. In fact, the picture that formed in her mind held a wealth of appeal. But as her fingers curled around the doorknob, a question stirred in her mind, unbidden. One Theodosia had asked her recently.
When would younotmarry a man?
Louisa pulled a face. Right. She wouldn’t marry a fortune hunter, a criminal, or a man with too much power. She needed to stay strong.
She yanked the door open.
Now was certainly not the time to be thinking about men—least of all a duke. Especially one who still oozed power, despite dressing in unattractive, outdoor clothing.
*
Oliver’s gaze trackedover the garden, the house, and the little boy who exited the side doors of one of the drawing rooms. This must be the Talbot heir, Lady Louisa’s brother, the future duke.
Ah, to be young and still at such an age. Oliver could scarcely recall such a time of his own life. Of course, his father hadn’t allowed him much of a childhood. He certainly didn’t recall himself ever possessing such innocent, rosy cheeks when he was young. This must be because ofherpresence.
His gaze returned to the house.
The young lord would probably not give him a second look, so he needn’t worry. He had a man at the front of the house as well, so he would know if any servants or Lady Louisa left the house. There had been no movement so far.
He wished he could have disguised himself as a footman and beeninsidethe residence. But servants were quite quick-witted amongst themselves. He’d have been caught in no time. A gardener, on the other hand, was a bit easier to overlook. In fact, the moment Oliver had learned of the duchess’s possible involvement in the organization he was hunting, he’d placed one of his men here in the household as a groundskeeper. Today, he’d simply taken his place.
He hadn’t actually been able to get any of his men inside the house—a pity. The duchess was meticulous when it came to hiring new servants for their residence. It almost made him surprised that she’d been so lax with the gardens. No one had questioned his presence yet.
The boy’s eyes landed on him, narrowed, before he strode straight over to him. Oliver didn’t so much as twitch.
Interesting.
The boy stopped before him, craning his neck to meet his gaze. “Who are you and what are you doing here, sir?”
“What do you mean, young master?” Oliver inched the corner of his mouth upward. The boy was sharp. “I’m the gardener.”
