When Only a Rake Will Do by Jennifer McNare

Author:Jennifer McNare [McNare, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-12-11T07:00:00+00:00

Once the coachmen had been sent on their way with instructions to return in two days’ time, Brendon quickly made his way to the rear garden to join Daphne.

Hearing the sound of a door opening and closing behind her, Daphne turned, watching as Brendon walked toward her. “The garden is beautiful.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Stone have done an excellent job maintaining it,” Brendon agreed, glancing about the space.

Standing beside one of the tall bushes that bordered a portion of the narrow gravel path that wound through the garden, she brushed her fingers lightly across a large, fragrant bud, its petals a soft, baby pink. “Roses have always been my favorite,” Daphne said softly.

“My mother loved roses as well. It’s one of the few things I remember about her.”

“Oh?”

“She died when I was just a boy,” Brendon said. “I had a statue placed here in the garden in honor of her memory,” he continued. “It’s just there.” He pointed to a spot just a few feet to Daphne’s right.

Daphne looked to the area he pointed out, noticing then the brilliantly detailed, three-foot marble figure of an angle nestled amongst the roses and the small bronze plaque at its base. Stepping toward it, she read the inscription. In memory of Lysette Leighton, beloved mother. “It’s exquisite,” she said reverently as Brendon came to stand next to her.

He smiled thoughtfully for a moment as he gazed at the statue, and then turned back to Daphne. “Would you care to take a walk?” he asked. “There’s a small stream not far from here if you’d like to see it.

She nodded. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Once again he clasped her hand, threading his fingers through hers as he led her along the path. This time however, Daphne felt no sense of apprehension, for she was growing more comfortable by the moment. Now she felt only the delicious thrill of anticipation as his palm pressed warmly against hers.

Leaving the garden behind, they made their way along a worn footpath that led them through a maze of soaring oaks and towering elm trees to the bank of the stream that meandered through the rear portion of the property.

“Oh, how lovely,” Daphne said, admiring the picturesque setting as they stood upon the grassy bank.

Brendon chuckled. “I confess that when I purchased the place I was far more interested in the stream’s abundance of trout,” he admitted as he glanced about. “But you’re right; it does make for a rather charming scene, doesn’t it.”

“It’s easy to take it for granted,” Daphne said as she watched the slowly-moving water, thinking of her earlier conversation with the marchioness. “The beauty that surrounds us,” she clarified. “I never really thought about it until today.”

“Until today?”

“Lady Roxleigh told me about her son and his loss of sight,” she explained, turning to face him.

“Ah.”

“She also told me what you did for him; that your actions most-likely saved his life.”

“He’d given up,” Brendon said ruefully. “I couldn’t bear to just sit there and watch him die.”

“He’s very fortunate to have a friend like you.

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