Rose Gardner's Florist (The Providence Street Shops #2) - Bonnie Dee Page 0,25

man to care for you.” She hoped her words were true.

Rose watched Arietta disappear into the flat then walked down three flights of rickety stairs to the street. She hadn’t bid anyone farewell, but guilt no longer stalked her. Her family was a world apart from her new life. Only relief rode with her as she headed toward the home she had built for herself.

Rose entered her flat to find her distraught guest sleeping on a pallet of cushions and blankets on the floor. Candace’s expression smoothed in slumber made her appear much younger, merely a girl like Arietta. The obvious solution to Candace’s problem became instantly clear. The woman needed sanctuary and a way to earn money. Rose needed an assistant. The fit could not be better, if the genteel young lady were willing to work in a florist shop.

*

Will sat at his usual position at the family dining table on Mother’s left, across from Rupert and his wife Virginia. Penelope would normally sit beside Will, but his younger sister was off to the Alps with friends.

“Lady Smyth mentioned you haven’t responded to her invitation. Surely you must have received it by now,” Mother pressed.

“I have and will reply soon.” Will changed the subject, “Rupert, how is your new horse?”

“Fine, fine. His sire was Lord Codsworth’s Bright Legion, you know, and his dam a fine filly from Edgeworth stables. This foal should be a great jumper and fast as lightning. In fact, we’ve named him Lightning Bolt, haven’t we, Ginnie?”

Virginia whinnied with laughter. “Indeed. Finest horseflesh as I’ve ever seen. You must come out to the stables after dinner to see him, Willie. He’ll murder the steeplechase with that lineage.”

“I should like to see him.” It was easy to keep quiet after that and allow his brother and sister-in-law to fill the dinner conversation with talk of breeding stock. It seemed they took more interest in their racehorses than their children, Rupert Jr. and little Gerald.

The boys were, of course, up in the nursery. Will had spent the afternoon hour with them upon his arrival and found he enjoyed indulging their little whims. He joined in their game of soldiers, earning the title Uncle General from Rupert. It might be pleasant to have children one day, he had thought. Until Gerald hit Rupert in the head with a block, ending the session in howls and tears. Ginnie had separated them with aplomb and helped Nanny carry them off.

Will could not think of a better suited couple than his jovial brother and even-tempered sister-in-law. Like a perfectly matched pair of carriage horses, they moved in harmony, assured of their place on the earth and that paddocks filled with horses and a nursery filled with children were the epitome of happiness.

His gaze wandered to his father, who was silently consuming halibut. Will had inherited his quiet and solitary nature. Father ran the estate efficiently, steering it into the modern age with dexterity, and making certain all the tenants prospered. But when it came to managing the rest of his life, Mother was in charge, and he seemed happy to concede to her opinions. She might occasionally ask his opinion, then do precisely as she originally intended. But they seemed content in their symbiotic relationship.

Meanwhile, Penelope’s role in the family was to aggravate, spend money, and get into tight spots, but always come out smelling like a rose. His outgoing, independent sister dubbed herself a modern girl, yet Will glimpsed very traditional traits under her surface. Mother predicted Penelope would soon quit her high-stepping ways, marry, and become a bastion of the London social scene.

This was his family. And who was Will? The sibling who was never quite up to snuff, always lagging a bit. He refused to marry, procreate, or perform stunningly in some field. Politics, Mother had suggested, even though he had never shown any inclination in that direction. She told Will he behaved like a hermit and it was high time he emerged from his cave. He supposed she was right. She usually was.

With Rupert and Virginia running full bore about Lightning Bolt’s future prospects at Aintree, it was easy to sit meditatively chewing fish. Will exchanged a look with Father, who winked at him.

Abruptly Mother interrupted the horseflesh tutorial. “Speaking of bloodlines, William, I highly hope you will make yourself amenable to the young ladies at Lady Smyth’s party.”

“Mother, I have heard your wishes on the subject several times. Let us speak instead of the conservatory. The repairs