The Duchess of Love by Sally MacKenzie

Author:Sally MacKenzie
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2012-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

Drew stood in the garden with Nigel, Mrs. Edgemoor, and Bugden, the gardener, a vegetative emergency at their feet.

“What am I to do about these poor bushes?” Bugden asked, appearing to be on the verge of tears.

They were a sorry sight. Five or six large shrubs had been picked clean of all greenery. Drew couldn’t tell from Bugden’s increasingly emotional speech—and consequent descent into the local dialect—whether the culprit was a giant hare or a hairy caterpillar.

He flinched. Something had hit him in the shoulder. Were there other garden marauders about?

Ah, there—he distinctly heard Bugden say “creepy crawler.” It must be the hairy caterpillar who was the villain in the bushes’ demise.

Mrs. Edgemoor and Bugden had turned to Nigel for guidance, but Nigel was gazing into space, likely contemplating the fair Aphrodite.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to dig them up,” Drew said. “They look very … dead.”

This unfortunate word choice sent Bugden off on another impassioned speech. Apparently the plants had been flourishing just the day before; the vicious, sneaky bugs had crept in on their many legs in the dead of night to attack the poor, defenseless bushes, devouring them with incredible speed.

“Yes, well, that is a terrible shame.” Clearly some sympathy was in order, whether for the denuded shrubbery, which was long past caring, or Bugden, who obviously took the caterpillars’ actions as a personal affront, or even Mrs. Edgemoor, who was wringing her hands and almost moaning. “However—ouch!”

Some hard missile had definitely collided with his other shoulder. He glanced down; had that large pebble been there by his foot before?

Nigel emerged from his woolgathering. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.” Drew smiled. He’d go looking for his assailant as soon as he dealt with the plant problem. He was quite certain his attacker was not a hairy caterpillar. “The sad truth is I suspect nothing will resurrect these bushes.”

“Aye, yer right there.” Bugden looked gloomily at the plant corpses.

“So all we can do is remove the remains.”

“But the garden party is tomorrow,” Mrs. Edgemoor said. “It’ll look a fright.”

It already looked a fright, as if fire or drought—or caterpillars—had come through, but Drew felt it wisest not to point out the obvious. “Perhaps a few potted plants would do the trick?”

“Hmm.” Bugden nodded. “That might work, and I know just where I can get some. There are too many in the music room anyway.”

Mrs. Edgemoor looked unconvinced. “I’m not sure …”

“Now, Maud, ye know I’m right. Come, let’s see what we can do.”

Bugden and Mrs. Edgemoor went off to discover what indoor plants they could dragoon into outdoor duty.

“Well done,” Nigel said. “You appear to have averted a major disaster.”

Drew laughed. “Yes, well—ow!”

Something large and hard hit his arse with enough force to leave a bruise, he’d wager. He looked down. That was no pebble by his feet; that was a rock.

“I think the hedge over there is trying to get your attention,” Nigel said.

Drew looked in the direction Nigel indicated. The hedge shook emphatically.

“If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go commune with nature.

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