Rose Gardner's Florist Read online

  Slatted tables on which his mother had once arranged cut flowers sat empty. Will rapped on one. “The wood is decayed and fragile so these will need replacing. I thought I might have low beds installed, perhaps with an orange tree in that corner so I might have fresh citrus in winter. What do you think, Miss Gardener? Could one survive a cloudy English winter?”

  Will knew the answer, having read it in the horticulture book. Citrus thrived in England under proper growing conditions. But he awaited his guest’s response.

  Rose nodded. “You mentioned your interest, so I read up on caring for potted citrus trees. They will remain in an outdoor garden until autumn, when one must gradually introduce them to the greenhouse climate. With proper soil, moisture, and light, they will bear fruit.”

  “Come, Guy. Let us step into the library and look through the books while these two discuss greenery.” Hattie took her fiancé’s arm and drew him into the neighboring room.

  It seemed obvious she was creating privacy for Will and Miss Gardener, but if the young lady felt ill at ease, she showed no sign.

  Rose stood with an elbow resting on one folded arm, chin on fist, and regarded the space with a charming frown. “Have you considered raising herbs as well? I thought perhaps a small bed close to the inner wall to provide easy access for your kitchen staff. But this is such a small space, perhaps you do not wish to use any of it on a kitchen garden.”

  “I am open to all possibilities. My housekeeper cooks for me as well. She might appreciate fresh herbs.”

  “Have you a blueprint for the room? Knowing the dimensions could help in making the best possible use of every square foot. We could pencil in possible designs and just as quickly change them.”

  “I will supply you with a copy that you may draw on to your heart’s content,” he promised. Her enthusiasm for the project ignited his own fervor—not only for the plan but for the planner.

  Miss Gardener walked around the room, examining the rotted wood tables, then stooping to gather a handful of soil and allowing it to sift through her fingers. “Do you prefer plants with a strong fragrance or something more muted? I was considering night blooming jasmine. They have a powerfully sweet odor, which some find cloying. But the white blossoms would be lovely in the moonlight contrasted against the dark green leaves of the orange tree.”

  Her face would be lovely in the moonlight.

  “I’m certain it would be beautiful. Whatever you wish to do, I concur.”

  “But it’s your conservatory. I want to make certain you enjoy sitting here, perhaps reading a book on a small bench.” She turned slowly. “Can you imagine frost on the panes, a cold wind whistling outside, as you enjoy an abundance of greenery on a winter’s night?”

  “I can feel it exactly as you’ve described.” A nearly forgotten memory resurfaced and he found himself sharing it. “I recall sitting on the ground playing with marbles while my mother tended her roses. She still raises hybrid varieties, some of which she created herself.”

  He touched the rickety table. “She would hum off-key as rain beat against the glass. On the ground, I aimed my marbles and distinctly remember the soft, satisfying click as one connected with another, sending it shooting off. I had quite forgotten that snug and perfectly content feeling.”

  Rose made a soft hum of appreciation. “That sounds heavenly. I wish I had had such a fond memory from my childhood.” She glanced around as if wondering how the place had fallen into such disrepair. “So, your mother is an expert gardener.”

  “Yes. She personally oversees the garden staff at Carmody Hall. Roses are her particular passion, and one of her varieties placed in a national competition.”

  “Why would you not simply ask for her suggestions on what to plant?”

  Why indeed? He scrambled to invent an answer. “My parents prefer living year-round in the country, so they offered the townhouse to me. My elder brother Rupert, who will inherit the estate, is not at all interested in London society and agreed with this decision. As much as I adore Mother and admire her green thumb, I wish to make my own decisions about this house.”

  “It is your home now.” Rose nodded. “But the house is quite large for one person. Do you never feel lonely here?”

  She did not seem to consider the impertinence of the question, another example of her pure honesty.

  “I am often so involved in my reading I could be anywhere on earth and not notice what is around me. I am a solitary person by nature. Yet, recently when I put my books aside, I become aware that the once soothing quietness seems arid and empty.”

  Embarrassed by his revelation, Will studied a beetle crawling across the floor.

  “One may feel such loneliness even in a crowd,” Rose replied. “I come from a very loud family living in a very small space. There was never a lack of people nearby, yet I often felt as if I lived on an ice floe, such as Admiral Peary describes in articles about exploring the far north. In the midst of chaos, I felt utterly alone. It wasn’t until I met Miss Glover that I found a kindred spirit. She was my mentor as well as employer, and is now my dearest friend.”

  “I cannot imagine anyone as friendly as you feeling lonely. You are a bright, shining soul who attracts everyone around her like a flower draws honeybees.”

  A wry smile twisted her lips. “That is kind of you to say, but you haven’t met my family. With them I am considered an outsider, an ‘odd duck’ as my mum often said. Their interest in me extended as far as the money I brought home from my job. Mum assured me I could never succeed in owning my own business.” She stopped speaking, ducking her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I’ve spoken too freely. You couldn’t possibly be interested in my family woes.”

  “I am!” Will exclaimed. “I am interested in everything about you, Miss Gardener. Although I am quite hopeless at expressing my thoughts, I must tell you I wish to know you better. I pray you won’t find my attention off-putting.”

  Prolonged silence followed, so thick one could spread it like marmalade. Will wished he could join the beetle, which had disappeared into a crack. He’d made a fool of himself by speaking so openly, veering like a wind vane from nearly mute to revealing far too much about his feelings.

  “Mr. Carmody, I must admit to feeling flattered by your words, although I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve them. I’m merely a common girl from Spitalfields with nothing special to recommend me. I am not on a par with you in any way.” Rose added gently, “I would like to be your friend, but I believe it is best we maintain a professional distance while working on your conservatory project.”

  “Yes, of course.” Will quickly backpedaled, humiliated that she now knew his romantic intent. “Your friendship would be sufficient. I would never expect more than that.”

  He inhaled slowly, burying his disappointment. If he did not quickly change the tone of the conversation, an excruciating evening lay before them. “Tell me more about this night-blooming jasmine. I am intrigued.”

  Rose plunged into the subject with apparent relief. “Outdoors, they may grow as high as eight feet with a circumference of three feet, but potting and pruning will keep them from taking up too much space. Still, I know you are more interested in the citrus trees, so they must be our first priority with all other plantings serving to complement them.”

  Before Will could ask further questions, Reardon arrived to announce supper. Will offered to escort Rose to the table, trying not to thrill at the touch of her hand on his arm.

  In the library annex, Guy and Hattie joined their walk toward the dining room from which delicious scents wafted.

  “You must show Rose your books after the meal,” Hattie said. “What a widely varied collection.”

  “What subjects are of special interest to you, Mr. Carmody?” Rose enquired.

  “I am particularly partial to books about the lives of daring explorers or forward-thinking scientists such as Galileo. Also any sort of history. One feels a greater connection to all that went before.” />
  “History certainly makes one aware of the brevity of life,” Guy chimed in as he held Hattie’s chair. “One must seize the day whenever possible. No point in postponing important matters.” He patted Hattie’s shoulders before taking his seat.

  The suggestion beneath his words was obvious. Will knew Hardy eagerly awaited a matrimonial date, which his betrothed seemed reluctant to set.

  Rose must know it too, because she diverted the conversation. “What lovely table settings. Your home is so—” Antiquated, ancient, Will thought. “—impressive. I feel as if I’ve stepped back in time.”

  Rose seemed enchanted rather than dismayed by the venerable décor. “This chandelier is breathtaking.” She gazed at the fixture draped with crystal pendants suspended above the table.

  The pale column of her throat made Will’s breath catch.

  “One of my forebears brought it from France during the Seven Years’ War. Of course it was never wired for gas lights, let alone electric, so it is never used.”

  “I can imagine the glory of it with all the candles lit.”

  When she dropped her gaze to his, Will wished he’d bothered to have the chandelier polished to a shine and fresh candles lit. If the glow would please her, it would be worth the effort.

  As one course after another was served, Rose complimented each dish and savored them with such relish it reminded Will he ought to express his appreciation to Mrs. Wilder. He took her culinary skill for granted, when not many housekeepers could wear a cook’s hat as well.

  He considered Rose’s impoverished childhood and wondered what meals she would have eaten—or done without. Her life had been so different from his privileged existence. In all his years of living in London, he had never ventured to Spitalfields. Perhaps a visit to view firsthand how the other half lived was overdue.

  “Mr. Carmody, I understand you tutor university students,” Rose said. “Do you enjoy it?”

  “Yes, I do. I had thought at one time I might become a professor, but realized I would not feel comfortable facing a room full of students. Private lessons are easier.”

  “And better for those who are struggling. I understand lecture halls are often full to capacity and the pace is fast. I know I would need more time to absorb a new concept.”

  Will longed to know how Rose had gained the education she possessed, for working class girls scarcely attended school. Aside from occasional lapses, Rose’s grammar and accent were impeccable—perhaps Hattie’s influence. But he could not ask such a personal question.

  “I was Carmody’s first pupil,” Guy joined in. “We met at uni, where I was more intent on having fun than putting my nose to the grindstone. Will coached me to sit for examinations.”

  “When you bothered to try, you were actually an excellent student.”

  “I’m afraid I formed a bad habit of lazing about then hurrying to catch up. But I am applying myself at last and succeeding quite well, don’t you think, my dear?”

  Hattie regarded him with pride. “Indeed. You’ve moved several members of Parliament toward the suffrage cause. Not an easy feat, given the disposition of those particular gentlemen.”

  “And I commend you for your support of small businesses. I could not have achieved my goal without your loan,” Rose added.

  Guy fanned himself with one hand. “Stop. Your compliments will swell my head until I’m unbearable.”

  “Too late. Modesty has never been your strong suit,” Will automatically retorted, before realizing he and Hardy’s usual banter might not be appropriate. The ladies might think him rude or jealous of his friend’s accomplishments, which wasn’t the case. Teasing was simply a part of their friendship. “In all seriousness, you have become so dedicated and responsible that I cannot help but admire your efforts. Well done, Hardy.”

  “Thank you.” His friend’s smile and the little duck of his head indicated how pleased he was to receive his praise. Guy’s father had never shown an ounce of pride in his son, so Hardy was overdue for some commendation.

  “How is our investment coming along by the way?” Guy asked Rose. “Your shop seems busy whenever I’ve stopped in, and it is only your first month open for business.”

  “I could not ask for better success. I’m nearly overwhelmed with customers. In fact, one day, when I had an order to fill, Mr. Carmody aided me by waiting on them, earning my undying gratitude.” Her smile made Will want to serve her every day.

  “You ought to hire help. Perhaps your sister?” Hattie suggested.

  Rose avoided the question by asking one of her own. “How is Margaret catching on?”

  While Hattie assessed the skills of her new assistant, Will pondered Rose’s reaction concerning her sister. Was she estranged from her family? She’d mentioned feeling an outsider. Did they pester her for money? Did they even know of her success? More questions he dare not ask.

  “Being the only women who own shops on Providence Street is sometimes a challenge,” Hattie said. “The other merchants have become accustomed to the idea and occasionally accept our suggestions during association meetings, but we must sometimes endure subtle digs or innuendo.”

  “Not always so subtle,” said Rose.

  “Who? What do they say? Tell me who has been rude to you and I’ll take care of it,” Guy demanded.

  Hattie smiled fondly. “That’s very noble of you, my knight errant, but it is nothing I can’t handle. Most of these slights you might not notice even if you were in the room. But a woman can detect a patronizing tone directed at her.”

  “And leering looks which they think pass unnoticed.” Rose shook her head and stabbed her spoon into the lemon sorbet.

  Shocked, Will reviewed every time he’d snuck a look at Rose. Had his gaze lingered long enough to make her feel uncomfortable? Perhaps he’d been leering rather than admiring. How was one to know the line between the two?

  “Concerning the orangerie,” Rose diverted the subject. “Mr. Carmody, have you ever traveled to a Mediterranean country and visited a grove?”

  “I was once in Italy on holiday, but I was only intent on studying Roman ruins.”

  “Oh, what a marvel!” Rose clasped her hands. “I would enjoy going any place, as I’ve never been out of London. There is so much to see in this world.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve read about more places than I’ve actually visited. Perhaps it is time I considered visiting some of them.” With you as a traveling companion, exploring new sights.

  Guy talked about a trip to the Alps he’d once taken, then described the honeymoon tour he would like to take with Hattie.

  “I don’t see how I could take that much time away from the shop,” she protested. “Don’t forget I will continue to be a business owner as well as your wife.”

  Guy regarded her with a more solemn expression than Will had believed his friend capable of. “I would never expect you to forsake your career. It would be like asking you to stop breathing. I fully support your professional achievement. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Hattie paused long enough to suggest perhaps she had not been so certain of it. “Then how can you suggest we take a month long gallivant about the continent?”

  “Margaret could live above the shop and manage it during your absence. You would remain in close contact with her via telegram. If anything dire should occur, we would cut our trip short and return.” Guy showed he had considered the matter. “After we have settled into our home together I would certainly not expect you to become some sort of hausfrau. When we marry, your independence will not be in jeopardy, I promise.”

  Hattie sucked in her lower lip and frowned. “I imagine at some point we might have children, which would change everything.”

  “There are nannies,” Guy replied.

  “I wouldn’t want my little ones raised by a stranger. I plan to spend time with them.”

  “As do I. And as a gentleman of means and leisure, I will have many hours to devote to our progeny.”

  “You,
caring for children?”

  “Since I am rather a child myself, I would be a wonderful playmate, and Nanny could help a bit with the looking after. I would bring the children to see you at work whenever you wish. You might hire a second assistant if you want more free days. Trust me, I’ve considered this from all angles. I will be the best sort of father, providing excellent attention and fun times for all. Discipline too,” he added quickly.

  Will stared at his melted sorbet. The discussion was almost too personal to witness.

  But Hattie’s abrupt snort of laughter made him look up.

  “You would be!” she said warmly. “I can’t imagine a more loving man to father a child, nor a more supportive husband. So, Mr. Hardy, if you are still willing to marry a quite stubborn and often distrustful woman, I would like to set a date for our wedding. What about late autumn? We could spend the cold winter months touring Greece and Italy. Would you marry me in fall?”

  “I will!” Guy pronounced enthusiastically.

  Will glanced at Rose, who grinned at him, clearly delighted by the unexpected turn in the conversation. She lifted her glass. “To the happy couple.”

  “Here, here!” Will agreed. “May you enjoy a long and joyous life together. To paraphrase Plato, a true union is that of disparate souls complementing each other, thus growing in compassion, affection and love.”

  As everyone drank the toast, Will wondered if he could ever find such a so-called “soul mate.” Rose Gardener had made it clear she had no interest in him, yet he couldn’t help his gaze returning to her during the avid discussion of wedding plans that followed.

  At the end of the night, Miss Gardener assured him when next they met, she would have a plan to present. “We will design a room that will be a quiet retreat for you, a place of solitude and peace.”

  More solitude was the last thing he needed, and peace and quiet were quite overrated, Will thought as he saw his guests out the door. But at least he would have an ongoing reason to see Miss Gardener. Even if it was only for her friendship and gardening expertise, that would be worth everything.