“It is hard to believe that the duke would judge you so harshly. What more could he wish for in a granddaughter? You are beautiful, intelligent, and fiercely loyal to your friends, as I can well attest to. And you share his passion for plants.”
A spasm of emotion flitted across her face, but in the shifting patterns of light and dark, it was impossible to read. “His disapproval runs far deeper. He disowned my mother for marrying against his wishes.” She drew in a deep breath, the tiny muscles tensing along the line of her jaw. “I am just a constant reminder of that rebellion.”
“Perhaps he regrets his past actions. Have you tried talking about it with him—”
“The duke does not talk,” she said quickly. “He pontificates. So the situation is rather hopeless. What’s the point of reaching out when I’ll only be rejected?”
“For someone who sees most subjects with sharp-eyed clarity, you may have a blind spot in this particular matter.”
Her mouth quivered, then pinched to a hard line.
“People change,” said Marco softly. He was living proof of that.
“You really think so?”
“Yes. I do.”
For a moment, he thought he had overstepped his boundaries. Like him, Kate was a very private person and did not let anyone get too close. But after a step or two, she forced a tentative smile. “It’s kind of you to offer advice, sir. No matter that it’s for naught.”
They walked along in companionable silence. Clouds were scudding in from the west, deepening the surrounding shadows. The breeze began to freshen and the rustle of the leaves muffled their steps. Mist rose in silvery tendrils from the tufts of ornamental grasses.
“Let us cut around the conservatory. It’s quicker than following the perimeter path,” murmured Kate.
As they passed close to the glass walls, a wink of light appeared within the jungle of dark foliage. It was gone in a flash.
“That’s odd.” Kate stopped and tried to peer through the glass, but the moisture of the warm air inside had fogged the panes. “The place should be shut up for the night.”
“Perhaps someone else is enjoying a private tryst,” said Marco. “You have to admit it is a rather romantic setting.”
Her frown deepened in concern. “It’s not a playground for pleasure. There are a number of very delicate and very rare specimens in this section of the plantings.”
“I’m sure no harm has been done. In all likelihood, it’s just one of the servants, checking that all is well before he locks the doors.”
“Perhaps,” she answered. A swipe of her sleeve did nothing to clear the mist from the glass. “However, I will go check on it as soon as I return to the drawing room.”
They were about to continue on when, up ahead, the latch to the side door opened with a soft snick. A figure emerged and moved swiftly for the cover of the rhododendron bushes.
“Who was that?” Kate craned her neck but the dark shape had already melded into the foliage.
“I am not sure. I didn’t catch a glimpse of the face,” replied Marco. “It might have been Tappan. And if it was, it isn’t any mystery why he was moving so quickly. I, too, would be fleeing from the clutches of Lady Duxbury.” He chuckled. “I doubt he escaped with his virtue intact.”
She shot him a sour look. “Why is it that ever since the Original Sin in the Garden of Eden, men are always blaming women for their own weakness of the flesh?”
“It was Eve who offered Adam the apple,” he replied.
“Have you conveniently forgotten that the serpent was Satan? Who was most definitely male,” countered Kate.
“You have a point,” conceded Il Serpenti with a grin.
Pinching back a smile, she led the way through the shrubbery and regained the graveled walkway. The terrace torchieres blazed brightly, sending up plumes of pale smoke. “Good night, Lord Ghiradelli,” repeated Kate.
The tone of dismissal was unmistakable.
“Sweet dreams, Kate,” he murmured.
Sweet dreams.
Ha! What with the way her thoughts were tossing and turning inside her head, Kate didn’t expect to sleep a wink. She had always prided herself on being intelligent.
But maybe she wasn’t so smart after all.
Lifting her gaze from the gravel, she saw her grandfather pacing along the terrace railing. He looked pensive, and in the flicker of the red-gold flames, the lines of age on his craggy face appeared more deeply etched than she had noticed before.
Had she been so sure of her own point of view that she had failed to see the full