The First Proposal - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,4

them upstairs after all. If I’m lying down, they’ll be dreadfully noisy. Take them out to the garden instead.”

Persephone looked past Daphne to the window. It was terribly windy and just beginning to rain. She could see the dreaded word hovering on Daphne’s lips. Economize. Pasting on a too bright smile, Percy replied, “How delightfully bracing the weather appears! An excellent opportunity for the children to expend some energy.”

Algernon Dunne was once more in his garden. He had spent more time in that small plot of land that butted up against his Mayfair townhome in the past two months than in all of his prior years of residence. The season, though still in full swing, had lost much of its allure for him. There were fewer engagements he had any interest in attending, and frankly, not having a mistress left him with an inordinate amount of free time.

But it wasn’t just the abundance of time on his hands that brought him out there. It wasn’t even his recently rediscovered passion for gardening. Or the very costly wager he’d made regarding his ability to create a new breed of roses in record time. It was all because of a voice. Her voice. Leave it to him to be captivated by a woman who was likely a harridan. Of course, any woman might become a harridan when confronted with the hell-spawned imps that masqueraded as his neighbor’s children. A more unruly, disrespectful and altogether horrid brood of children he’d never encountered. The truth of the matter was that there were rookery pickpockets who had a better sense of decorum than those heathens. And it was clear from her very put upon tone when she spoke to them that she recognized just how wretched they were. But she didn’t shriek at them or threaten them. No. She bribed them. It might not have been the best solution for their immortal souls, but it had certainly increased the peace in their small corner of the world and for that he was grateful.

But her bribery, while inventive and far more effective than any other method employed to date, wasn’t what drew his attention. It was her grousing, for lack of a better word. She’d often stroll in the garden, talking to herself, and expounding at length on the misery those children inflicted on one an all, along with her employer, Daphne Fennelworth. He shuddered. Horrid woman. Given the choice between her company and and a case of the plague, he’d risk the plague.

He couldn’t quite say when it was that he’d become so fascinated by the unseen woman who bartered with those miscreants like she was in a bazaar in Constantinople. Yet he found himself out there every single day, hoping that he might hear her and that if he were lucky, he might one day catch a glimpse of her. Thus far, beyond the bored, frustrated, occasionally indignant and hardly dulcet tones of her nonetheless very appealing voice, he’d been bitterly disappointed. And from the silence that greeted him from the other side of the stone wall separating their gardens, it was clear disappointment was to be his companion for the day.

Still, he’d been able in that time to reconnect with his love of gardening. Particularly, he’d been able to focus on the cultivation of that very special rose that would net him a new stallion and end the constant braggadocios barrage from one of his oldest acquaintances. If he managed to succeed in grafting those various plants together he’d not only have the supreme satisfaction of achievement but also a beautiful stallion from Lord Denby’s stables. And if he failed, well, then he’d have to pick up the tab for Denby’s next purchase at Tattersall’s. Losing was not an option given the gentleman’s exceptional taste in horseflesh.

Crossing the distance to the small rose bush in a large stone urn in the center of the small space, he carefully inspected the tiny buds that had just begun to appear on the fragile branches. He felt the brief thrill of victory as he could see the pale apricot peeking through the tightly furled green of the bud. It was a color as yet unheard of in all of England. If he could produce such blooms, then Denby would have to eat his words and sacrifice a prime stallion along with a healthy dose of pride. Algernon grinned as he stepped back. Victory was all but assured.

And then he heard her. But it wasn’t the normally