A Cottage in Cornwall by Laura Briggs

Author:Laura Briggs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cornwall, chick lit, clean romance, cosy romance, wedding romance, feel good romance, wedding planner romance, cornwall romance
Publisher: Laura Briggs

***

Lord William believed that I could convince Billy to start on the east garden on my own, but I decided I needed backup for this campaign. When I explained to Matt what the issue was, he immediately volunteered to discuss things with the gardener himself the next morning.

Hand in hand, we walked up the main path to Cliffs House, the first time Matt had been back to it since his semester in America. I glanced at him, giving his fingers a quick squeeze.

"Does anybody else know?" I asked him, softly. "Besides me?" I didn't have to say about what.

He shook his head. "Not even Michelle knows," he answered. "And I don't want anyone to know, if I can help it. Not until the results are in."

I nodded. If this was what Matt needed, then I would respect it. I would keep his secret until he was ready for everyone to know.

Billy was in the shed, cleaning dirt from the hand tools as Matt and I approached. I stepped back a little, letting Matt be the one who addressed Billy first. The gardener squinted at me hanging around the rhododendron bushes, then looked at him, a look of suspicion in his eyes for a stranger.

"What'b'ye doin' here?" he asked.

Matt, who had been studying the shed with an air of aloof interest, now nodded towards the row of pots on the table, where some twigs were poked above the dirt, a little leaf on each one. "Your cuttings have a good size," he said. "You've got a good skill with rooting them."

Billy grunted. "V'been at i' long nuff," he said.

"Mark of a gardener's best service is his palm," said Matt. "Let's see yours." He held out his hand, his own palm still weathered and callused from his work in the university's greenhouses. Billy surveyed it with reserve, then clapped his own work-worn hand in Matt's.

They shook hands solemnly, then began talking about something with words that sounded to me like gibberish — Matt's speech had slipped into Cornish dialect, something I'd scarcely heard him use before more than a word at a time. Billy's squinting glare hadn't disappeared, but he was nodding occasionally. They both gestured at times in the direction of the east garden, making me hopeful that this was progress.

A few minutes later, Matt strolled out of the shed and joined me. "It was simple enough," he said to me. "A reasonable chap. You should have told me that before." But there was a twinkle in his eye that proved he was teasing me. "I wonder why you didn't settle this sooner."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe because I don't know the secret Cornish gardeners' handshake," I answered.

"Pshaw," said Matt. And I enjoyed hearing him tease me again, because a little of the worry had lifted from Matt's face with it. He seemed more like himself, and I would happily endure any ribbing over Billy's malevolent grunts to see it return.

With a truce between Billy and the east garden apparently in

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