“Oh.” The boy rocked on his heels. “In that case, do a good job and do everything she wants you to do. That will make Louisa very happy. She loves bossing people around.”
Of course she did. He was off to a bit of a splendid start, then. His very presence here went against everything she wanted. “What else does your sister like?”
“Scolding me.”
That brought a smile to Oliver’s face. He almost laughed outright. He could easily imagine Lady Louisa scolding her brother for some mischievous act. They even bore a striking resemblance. The boy had the same blue eyes, the same pale skin, and the same sandy hair. They could have been twins, were they born in the same year.
“I believe that is a sister’s job—scolding you.” Oliver caught movement in the corner of his eye. “You shouldn’t be speaking to me right now, should you?”
The boy’s brows knit in confusion “Why not?”
“This is just a guess, but I suspect your sister might scold you.”
The boy’s lips parted to retort but was interrupted by Lady Louisa’s, “You are right about that!” She strode over to them, her brow furrowed deeper than a scholar puzzling over ancient Greek scrolls. “What are you doing, Leo? Are you distracting the servants from their work again?”
The boy puffed up at the reprimanding questions. “Your gardener was just standing about like a garden sculpture.”
“So? Does that mean you must accompany him in doing so?”
The boy scowled. “How come you hired him, then, if this is all he’ll do? Don’t you hate the outdoors?”
“When have I ever disliked the outdoors? I enjoy the outdoors very much!”
“Liar,” the boy muttered, his chin not dropping an inch.
Oliver bit back a smile.
“Who is the liar here?” Lady Louisa demanded, hands on her hips. “Didn’t you tell your governess you were going to read in the library? What are you doing outside fraternizing with the servants, heh?”
“I did read. Now I’m taking a break.”
“Seems to me you are just making excuses.” She pointed to the house. “Go find Mrs. Shire and report your reading.”
The boy pulled a face—almost like a small pout—but obeyed, casting Oliver a brief glance before striding back to the house at a leisurely pace, head high, arms clasped behind his back.
“Bright boy. Promising future.”
Her sharp gaze cut through him, eyes hot—no, blazing—with annoyance. “What, pray, are you doing here?”
Oliver arched a brow. “Keeping an eye on my interests.”
Her breath hitched, nostrils flaring. “What a provoking thing to say!”
Amusement, and a hint oftemptation, unfurled in the center of his chest. “Offering my protection, then.”
She rolled her eyes. “The only person I seem to need protection from is you.”
“Then you shouldn’t have hired me as your gardener.”
“I didn’t hire you as my gardener!” She pressed her fingers to her temples, shooting him another annoyed look before darting a quick glance around. “We can’t talk here.”
“We can talk while you show me about the garden you so love.” As he thought, the boy had been exaggerating about her sneezing at the sight of flowers.
Her chin lifted. “Stow the mockery, it’s not appreciated.”
He suppressed his chuckle, though the edges of his mouth still twitched. “I take it you haven’t found the book.”
Her lips pursed, voice turning sour. “I am still searching.”
