Great Hall and exited one of the double doors leading out to a large terrace at the rear of the house. Sebastian guided her to the stone balustrade that separated the small table and chairs from the formal gardens and parkland beyond. His lungs expanded with a deep, purifying inhalation while he studied the area for potential threats, an act as natural to him as breathing. When he finished his search, he took in his first glimpse of Bellamere’s gardens in years.
Row after row of flawlessly groomed hedges and precisely placed flowers greeted his eye. Winding gravel paths connected each unique section to the last. Statuary, ponds, and iron trellises dotted the landscape, providing secluded nooks to soothe one’s soul.
The sunken garden was a particular favorite of his. Many times as a boy, he would take refuge in the far corner of the deep-set rectangle, where a small fountain gurgled and splattered water over its low basin. There, he had dreamed of a different life, filled with laughter and family… filled with love.
Even then, his responsibilities had threatened to overwhelm him. As heir to a thriving earldom, he’d had much to learn. Which meant long days of study with his tutor and intense sessions on estate management with his father, who was more concerned with creating a replica of himself than nurturing a motherless boy.
His rigid schedule left little time for being a child, and when he became the seventh Earl of Somerton at the age of twelve, his childhood disappeared. Not until years later had Sebastian understood his father’s obsessive need to ready him for the management of his inheritance. His father’s obsession was fed by his fear and the knowledge that he was dying and Sebastian would be left all alone. It was Sebastian’s first lesson in sacrifice. His father had forfeited a close relationship with his son for a greater good.
Movement to his right pulled him from his bittersweet contemplations. He transferred his attention to the widow and found her studying him. For the first time, he noticed the fatigue pulling at her pretty eyes and wondered what, besides Mr. Blake’s oils, might be plaguing her.
Ashcroft. The muscles in his neck clenched tight. Of course, she would be worried about the circumstances surrounding her husband’s death. Sebastian regretted not being able to set her mind at ease—though learning the truth behind her husband’s brutal murder might have the opposite effect.
Ignoring her evident signs of strain, he focused on a matter he could control. “Better?”
She blinked two times in quick succession. “Pardon?”
“You are rubbing your temple,” he said. “Did Mr. Blake’s painting supplies leave you with a headache?”
“I’ve never understood how he stays cooped up in that room for hours.” She lowered her arm. “Every time I meet with him, my head begins to pound within minutes.”
“Shall I have Mrs. Fox bring you something for the pain?”
“Thank you, no. The fresh air will do.” A few seconds later, she asked, “You needed to speak with me, my lord?”
“Yes,” he said. “May I call on you Sunday, after services? I thought we could further discuss the letters Ashcroft sent. Given what I just witnessed inside, I fear tomorrow will prove too busy a day.”
Her mask slipped then, just the smallest bit. But he saw disappointment flash across her face as clearly as he could see the single freckle marking the right side of her slender neck.
Again, she leveled her dark gaze on him. Intent. Probing. And somehow, seductive as hell. “Have you nothing to share with me now, my lord?”
“I believe it might be best to discuss the matter once I’ve had an opportunity to wash the road off and rest for a few hours.” Talking to her now, with exhaustion beating against his mind, could open the door for mistakes, and that was something he must guard against when near this observant widow.
“Yes, of course,” she said, drawing her reticule close once more. “I will leave you to it.”
He stepped closer, resting his hand on the balustrade near her hip. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled in an exploratory breath, searching for her scent and finding only a subtle essence that identified her as a female. Nothing artificial, no expensive perfumes or aromatic soaps. No, this was pure woman.
Sebastian’s chest expanded and he had to swallow hard before he could speak again. “I take it Mr. Blake’s antics are the reason Grayson urged me to return in his last update.”