Chapter One

“Lily, stay where I can see you,” Elena Fairfax said as she gently turned the fresh soil with her hands, ensuring proper aeration of the seedlings so they would bloom to their fullest potential. Just as she had been shown.

Lily, Elena’s five-year-old daughter, gave no response. 

“Lily …” Elena turned her head where she had been certain that she could see Lily playing out of the corner of her eye. This, she quickly found out, was not the case.

What she had been eyeing was, in fact, a wheelbarrow piled full of soil. It stood about the same height as her daughter, who had been sitting on the ground in front of it just moments ago. So, the mistake wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

“Lily?” Elena pulled her hands free from the soil and spun around.  She searched further, through the rows of flowerbeds, along the paths that wound between saplings, and over the various cacti, succulents, and shelves filled with planted herbs. “Lily?”

Her daughter was nowhere to be found.

“Perfect, Lily. That is just … wonderful.” Elena clicked her tongue, partly from frustration, and partly from worry. “Lily!”

 It was not her daughter’s safety that concerned Elena because there was little danger to be found in Whitmore Conservatory. It was located on the outskirts of Bath but had the privilege of being one of the largest conservatories in all of England; nothing but potted plants, various shrubs, and trees of all kinds contained within the monumentally sized glass orangery. No, danger was not the issue.

Rather, it was fear that her daughter might do something … troublesome.

Elena had been working for Mrs. Whitmore for several months now, and the woman was taking a huge chance by hiring her; a chance that few others would dare to do when considering Elena’s less-than-reputable past. This conservatory was the elderly greenkeeper’s life’s work, and the last thing Elena needed was her daughter accidentally destroying something that could not be repaired.

Should that happen, I doubt that even one as understanding as Mrs. Whitmore would be able to forgive me. Another bridge burned, another step back in a life that has taken so many steps backward of late that I am yet to take the first one forward.

“Lily?” Elena stepped away from the tray of freshly planted seedlings that she had been tending to and hurried toward the wheelbarrow. “Lily? What did I say? Best behavior only.”

She cast her gaze far and wide in search as she listened for the inevitable sound of something smashing to the ground. Lily was a good girl, and Elena adored her more than anything. But she was also energetic, free-spirited, and too young to fully understand the situation they were in and how imperative it  was that they did not upset the apple cart.

“Lily!” 

Elena came upon the wheelbarrow but was not paying it any attention. She figured that her daughter had become distracted by a butterfly or something of that nature and wandered after it. And it was because she wasn’t paying attention that when Lily jumped out from behind the wheelbarrow, that Elena very nearly died from fright.

“Boo!” Lily screamed as she pounced.

“Oh!” Elena stumbled back and clutched her chest, just about tripping over her feet. If she had done, she would have fallen right into the tray she had just been tending, sending it flying. What an irony that would have been.

“I scared you!” Lily giggled gaily, delighted by the reaction. “I scared you, Mummy! I scared you!”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, is what you did.” Elena scowled at her daughter but was unable to hold it. At just five, she had big brown eyes, rosy cheeks, and a smile that shone as bright as the sun on the warmest of summer days. “But yes, you scared mommy. I hope you are happy.”

“I did! I am!” 

 Lily had the same auburn-brown hair as Elena and the same brown eyes. But the shape of her face, oval and sharp, was closer to that of her father. And the older she grew, the more she looked like him, which always brought with it a strange mix of emotions. Elena had loved her late husband … she still did, in many ways. But her feelings for him were nowhere near that simple, and she tried her best not to think about it.

“Come here.” She swept into her daughter, wrapped her in her arms, and lifted her into the air. Lily giggled and screamed. “What did I tell you?”

“Umm?”

“To stay where I can see you.” Elena carried her daughter back to where she had been working and placed her on the ground at her feet. “And to try and behave, if you are capable of such a thing.”

“But I am bored,” she whined as she folded her legs and got herself comfortable. “How much longer?”

“A few hours, still.”

She scrunched her face into a pout, and Elena laughed. 

As much as she frustrates me, I do not know what I would do without her. And one day, she will know that all of this, everything I do, is for her.

Elena’s life had never meant to be this way. Once, and not so long ago, she had been the wife of a British Army captain. He had been respected, known for his bravery and heroism, and everyone she knew assured her that he was going places beyond what she might dream. Yes, for a time there, her life had felt complete, and the idea of spending her days working in a conservatory just to survive would have sounded like the height of absurdity.

That all changed two years ago when her husband’s reputation was thrown into disarray, justifiably so, as he was caught embezzling funds from his regiment. This resulted in a dishonorable discharge, which had the effect of scorning his name across society, which, in turn, saw his friends and family reject him entirely because they wanted nothing to do with a man of his ilk. 

Typically, Elena was given the same treatment as her late husband.

He swore to her that he was innocent. And Elena, loving her husband as she did, knowing the type of man he was, believed him to the end. But it made little difference, as he had no proof, and before he was able to find any, he died from an old wartime injury. 

That was a year ago now, but it felt like a lifetime for how hard times had been since then. His innocence went to the grave with him, and there was nothing Elena could do to clear his name … or her own, for that matter.

The consequence of this for Elena and Lily was a life ruined, because nobody wanted anything to do with one who would marry such a man as that. She had no friends. She had no family. She had no hope, and for a time there it looked as if Elena’s life was all but over.

Enter, Mrs. Whitmore …

“What is the meaning of this raucous behavior I am hearing?” Mrs. Whitmore cried as she hobbled down the pathway, making a beeline for Elena and Lily. 

Elena’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Whitmore! I am so sorry –”

“Wait a minute.” Mrs. Whitmore came to a stop and frowned at the two of them. “My mistake. It seems to me that everything is perfectly in order.” She cocked a discerning eyebrow at Elena. “Very strange. I could have sworn that I heard something.”

“It was just Lily playing.” Elena grimaced an apology. “She did not mean anything by it.”

“Oh, I am sure that she did.” Mrs. Whitmore winked at Lily, who giggled. “Or I would hope that she did. If a five-year-old isn’t causing mayhem, that is a concern worth investigating. Tell me …” Mrs. Whitmore rounded on Lily and put her hands on her hips. “Have you been upsetting your mother, little one?”

“No.” Lily giggled further. “I promise.”

“Lies! And right to my face! The cheek of this one!”

Elena rolled her eyes at the charade, smiling the whole while. She should have known that Mrs. Whitmore was only joking, as that was the old woman’s way. She, more than anyone, adored Lily, and was always playing with and teasing her, as she seemed to understand how energetic the little girl was, and how she needed the attention.

Mrs. Whitmore was sixty-eight years of age, tiny in stature, huge in personality, and possessed of a warm quality that made her impossible not to love and want to do well by. Her hair was stark white, her face was wrinkled like worn leather, and her blue eyes were always playful.

 “Do not encourage her.” Elena laughed as she dusted her soil-covered hands on her apron. “I have enough trouble as it is keeping her in one place.”

“She is a spirited one, isn’t she.”

“I am glad to see you.” Elena exhaled and indicated to the tray of freshly planted seedlings on the table in front of her. “I am just about finished here, and once I check on the succubae, I’ll be needing a new task for the afternoon. I was thinking that the ivy needs trimming.”

“My oh my, you have been busy.”

“Just keeping this place from burning down.”

Mrs. Whitmore chuckled along. “Yes, yes, whatever would I do without you?”

“You would be destitute, I am sure. Forced to close your doors and take up the life of a street urchin.”

“Thank the heavens I found you when I did!”

It was all very tongue-in-cheek, as both women were more than aware of how much Elena owed Mrs. Whitmore. This conservatory was, without fear of exaggeration, one of the most popular in the country, and every day, it saw dozens of lords and ladies through its doors to purchase various herbal remedies that could not be found anywhere else.

That Mrs. Whitmore had hired Elena at all was a miracle, and Elena would spend the rest of her life owing her for it. The elderly greenskeeper did not care about rumor or scandal, seeing in Elena someone who needed help where nobody else would give it, and offering such help because that’s just the kind of woman Mrs. Whitmore was.

“Jokes aside for a moment, as painful as that is, there is something that we need to discuss.” The humor left Mrs. Whitmore’s face and a lump appeared in Elena’s throat.

“Oh?”

Panic took Elena suddenly, the never-ending fear that one day Mrs. Whitmore would realize the mistake she had made and fire Elena because having one such as her about was surely bad for business. Indeed, Elena had heard customers make that very complaint more times than she could count.

“Do not look so worried.” Mrs. Whitmore laughed. “My, oh my, as I have told you time and again, Elena, you are here to stay. You are my hardest worker. My most dedicated. And this one –” She flicked her head at Lily. “—gives me a reason to get up in the morning. Even when my old bones protest.”

“That is very kind,” Elena said. “If not a little exaggerated.”

“Exaggerate? Me?” She touched her chest as if offended. “Never. But as I was getting at, there are some things we need to discuss …” Mrs. Whitmore took Elena by the hands and led her to a bench where they both sat. “First of all, I want you to know how proud I am of you.”

“You are?”

“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Whitmore’s blue eyes sparkled with pride. “You are not the only worker here, but what you are, is the most dedicated. The type that leaves me with a warm feeling deep inside this aged body because the future is bright and this place …” She looked around the conservatory with a sense of love. “Is in safe hands.”

Elena frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?” she said, giving Elena’s hands a squeeze. “You are not defined by your past, dear. And as you should know better than anyone, the most beautiful flowers bloom from the dirtiest of places. If we judged every flower on where they started their journey, we would live a life free of their beauty, and that is a world I would not wish upon even my worst enemy.”

Elena’s heart swelled at the kind words, and she very nearly started to cry. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitmore. You are …” She sniffed back tears. “Too kind.”

“Just speaking truths. I know you have likely not given thought to it, but this could be your future if you wish it – and do not say you don’t deserve it,” she cut in before Elena had a chance to object. “Nobody deserves it more than you, and keep doing things as you are …” She shrugged and offered a coy smile. “Perhaps one day you will be sitting in Fairfax Conservatory. Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as Whitmore, but few things do.”

“That is … I … Mrs. Whitmore, I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing right now,” Mrs. Whitmore said rightly. “Merely food for thought, dear. Something to ponder on.”

Elena stared in bewilderment at Mrs. Whitmore, unable to fathom the magnitude of what the elderly woman was saying. She had often wondered where her future might lead, sometimes even dreaming of one that would see her running this conservatory. But to hear it spoken out loud, the trust being given in her was more than she could put into words.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice cracking. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“I do,” Mrs. Whitmore said. “Which brings me to the second thing we need to discuss.” She looked pointedly at Elena. “I have just received word from some old friends of mine – ha! At my age, all friends are old friends. They are in town, and tomorrow they plan to travel north through London and then onto Scotland. A little holiday, as they put it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“I sure hope so! Seeing as I mean to join them.”

“You …” Elena blinked. “You do? But what of –”

“This place?” she cut in before Elena could finish. “That is what I am here to tell you. I was not speaking in exaggeration when I said that you are the future of this conservatory, Elena. I told you, did I not, that I don’t exaggerate. But before it can be a matter-of-fact thing, a little test run is needed, I think. Therefore, while I am gone, I will be leaving you in charge.” She flashed her eyes with a sense of playfulness. “Now, what do you think of that?”

Elena was speechless.

She knew that Mrs. Whitmore respected her, where so many others never would. And she knew Mrs. Whitmore was the type who would never make such jokes about her conservatory, because this was her entire life. But she could never have imagined that she of all people would be trusted with such a huge task. It was … unbelievable.

“Well?” Mrs. Whitmore pressed. “What do you think?”

“I think …” Elena shook her head, dismissing the cries of warning and the fear that attacked her … that something would go wrong as it always did. A smile took her lips instead, and joy surged through her the likes of which she had not felt in longer than she could remember. “I think that I will not let you down, Mrs. Whitmore. I promise I won’t.”

“I know you won’t, dear. I just know it.”

Elena spent the rest of the afternoon considering what Mrs. Whitmore had proposed, and the more she did, the more she knew that this was the exact opportunity she had been waiting for.

There had been a time not so long ago when Elena’s life had looked all but over. Her husband had died. The world had spurned her. She was alone and without so much as a single friend to call on. Her future … it was a most bleak thing indeed.

Now, thanks to the kind efforts of one old lady, Elena had a real chance at making a future for herself and her daughter. More than that, she was determined to prove Mrs. Whitmore correct and to do her proud. This was a task that Elena would not fail.

At least that was how she felt, until later that very same afternoon when her reality came crashing down.

Lily was napping on a bench as Elena watered a row of herbs that were almost ready to cultivate. She was humming merrily, smiling to herself as she pictured the next few weeks and how wonderful the opportunity was. That was when she heard voices.

“Oh, you will never guess who I saw just now,” a woman’s voice drifted from somewhere inside the conservatory.

“Who?”

“None other than Elena Fairfax, of all people!”

“That name …”

“Wife of Captain Fairfax. If you remember, he’s the one who was caught stealing from his own men. From the king, in effect.”

“Oh, yes,” the second voice said excitedly. “Now, I remember. You saw her? Where?”

“Here!” the first voice said in a hushed whisper. “She works here if you believe it? I almost didn’t recognize her … the way she was covered in mud and dirt.”

“Typical.”

“What I can’t believe is that Mrs. Whitmore trusts her. The old woman has always been a little odd, but to put your faith in someone like that? She is likely to wake up one morning and find half her wares stolen right out from under her.”

“Some people just do not change …”

Elena tried her best not to listen to the awful words of those two women, but it was impossible, and they crashed upon her like waves on the shore. 

She buckled, her breathing became heavy, and the room started to spin. She glanced at Lily, checking that she was still sleeping, and then hurried away, desperate to put some distance between herself and the gossip of those women.

For all she had done this last year, how hard she had worked to rehabilitate her image and leave the past behind, Elena was forced to admit that nothing she did would ever be good enough. This conservatory was her sanctuary; it was her chance at a new life, and all she wanted was to be given that chance because she felt she deserved it.

Sadly, such things were not so easy. Her past would chase her forever, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.  

 

Chapter Two

 

“You really did not have to join me.” His Grace Sebastian Ashworth, the Duke of Graystone grumbled as he shifted uncomfortably and massaged the pain in his right thigh. 

“It is not a bother.” Sitting across from him was Captain Edmund Hull, Sebastian’s old military subordinate and closest friend. Or rather, his only friend, but Sebastian would never give the man the honor of admitting as such.

“Let me rephrase.” Sebastian stopped massaging his thigh and looked pointedly at Edmund. “I would have preferred it if you did not join me.”

Edmund chuckled. “I know what you meant. Just as I know how secretly pleased you are to see me.”

“Is that what you think?” Sebastian scoffed. “I wonder how you might react were I to throw open the carriage door and shove you out while it still moved – Rosalie!” he said sharply, turning his attention from his friend to his six-year-old daughter who was busying herself climbing over the seats of the carriage. “What did I tell you?”

She looked over her shoulder and offered an apologetic smile. “To not sit still and not to behave myself?”

Rosalie was, without fear of overembellishing, the most important person in Sebastian’s world. With her sharp green eyes and the coy smile that she always wore, she was far sweeter in nature than she often appeared. And that she looked just like her deceased mother made it impossible for Sebastian ever to be truly upset with her.

“We are almost there. Just a few more minutes.”

“I hope so,” she pouted. “I want to see the flowers.”

“And you will,” he said, chuckling. “But only if you behave.”

“Sorry, Your Grace.” Rosalie’s governess, Hilda, was quick to scoop Rosalie into her lap and keep her there. She was sitting beside Edmund but had become distracted looking out the window. “That was my fault.”

“It is fine,” Sebastian assured her. “You’re only human, and my daughter is …” He chuckled. “Well, she is my daughter.”

Edmund watched the two with a warm smile. “She is just like her mother, isn’t she? Even luckier that she has so little of her father in her.”

“Very lucky,” Sebastian said with a hint of a smile, colored with sadness because the mere mention of his deceased wife always brought with it a unique type of pain that nothing could fix.

“As I was saying …” Edmund straightened up. “I had no intention of joining you – you think this is how I wish to spend my free time?”

“Annoying me, you mean?”

He scoffed. “You left me little choice. Did you not imagine that I would fail to notice how you scheduled this little trip for the exact time I was supposed to meet with you?”

“An accident,” Sebastian dismissed. “I mixed up my dates, that’s all.”

“His Grace of Graystone, foiled by an administrative error?” Edmund laughed dryly. “Now, wouldn’t that be the day? No, no. You were trying to avoid me.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Edmund dropped the humor from his voice and looked at his friend with a sense of extreme severity. “Sebastian …” His voice turned melancholy. “I know that you are still grieving.”

“I am not.”

“Just as I know how much pain you have been in since …” He winced. “You know to what I refer.”

“I am not.”

“But you cannot act as you have been doing these past years.” Edmund sighed and shook his head. “It is not healthy. Locking yourself away, shutting out the world, pretending as if it does not exist. Just because you close the curtains does not mean the sun does not shine beyond them. She would have wanted you to move on. You know she would.”

Sebastian glared ruefully at his friend … soon to be ex-friend if he does not drop it.

The matter that Edmund had raised was not a new topic, nor was it an unexpected one. Indeed, on the face of it, his concerns were valid, as there was no doubt for anyone who knew Sebastian that he was still grieving the loss of his wife, just as there could be no doubt that he was far from moving on from such things.

What angered Sebastian the most, however, was how insistent those he called friends and family were at trying to intervene and ‘fix’ him – as if he needed to be fixed! Let him mourn. Let him lament. Let him move on in his own time.

What does it matter if I do not want to forget my wife? What business is it of theirs how I have chosen to live? If they understood even a fraction of the pain that I have felt every day since she passed away, they would not dare to question my actions. 

“Is that all?” Sebastian spoke through gritted teeth, not wanting to snap at his friend while Rosalie was with them. “You came all the way to see me just so you could judge me?”

“I am not judging you.”

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Edmund sighed. “Think what you will, Sebastian, but I only want to help.”

“What you want to do is put your nose in where it does not belong.”

“And the thanks I get for it,” he said. “However, that is not the reason I wanted to see you. It is merely an observation, brought about by your never-ending quest to shut out those in this world who care for you.”

“So, why did you wish to see me? If not to judge?”

“It is your sister-in-law,” Edmund said, ignoring the sharpness of Sebastian’s tone. “She has invited me to sup with you and her later this week, at your estate and –”

“She has?” Sebastian stiffened.

“She has,” Edmund said. “And I thought I should warn you. Give you plenty of time to prepare yourself mentally, as it is, and devise with an excuse not to be there.”

Sebastian grimaced. “I am sure I can think of something.”

Edmund laughed. “I cannot wait to hear it.”

Sebastian wished to tell himself that Edmund was being highly pedantic and worrying over nothing. But the fact that he felt the need to warn Sebastian in advance of his invitation, knowing that to simply arrive would upset him, was proof enough of how far Sebastian had fallen.

He wasn’t always this way. 

Once, Sebastian was the living embodiment of what all young men of the ton would aspire to. A war hero. A man of renown and esteem who others looked up to. He used to enjoy social outings, the company of others, and had loved more deeply than most could even dream.

Now he was a shadow of his old self and, try as he might, he could not fathom a way that might ever change …

“We’re here!” Rosalie cried suddenly, blessedly breaking the awkward silence that was growing inside the carriage. “We’re here! We’re here!” 

“Rosalie!” Hilda cried, trying to settle the little girl.

The carriage came to a sudden stop, and before Sebastian had a chance to apologize or dismiss Edmund – he wasn’t certain which one he wanted to do – Rosalie threw open the door and leapt outside.

“Rosalie!” Hilda scampered out after her.

“Rosalie!” Sebastian tried to sit up but pain shot through his right thigh, and he buckled. 

“The leg?” Edmund noted. “Still hurting you, I see.”

“Why do you think I am here?” Sebastian grumbled as he climbed from the carriage. “Are you coming?” he followed up, once he was outside. He stretched his leg carefully, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“And force more of your enviable company upon myself than what I already have?” Edmund snorted. “No, I think I will have your driver take me into town and drop me off. I assume you’ll be here a while?”

“I would say so.”

“Then your carriage will be waiting for you, I promise.” His smile was still painted by worry, even pity, and how Sebastian hated it. “I will see you later in the week, Sebastian. Just … just think about what I said.”

Sebastian forced a thankful smile and shut the carriage door, glad to see the back of his friend. Not because he did not enjoy the man’s company, but because he hated being reminded of how weak he was … how damn pathetic when compared to the man he had once been.

The carriage rattled off down the drive, and Sebastian turned to take in his destination for the first time.

The Whitmore Conservatory was well known to Sebastian, even if it was his first time visiting. He had been told time and time again that it had the largest collection of herbal tinctures available in England, lucky, too, as it was built just outside of Bath, which itself was not too far from his own estate. There, he was sure to find inside a much-needed remedy for his thigh – a cure, as many had dared to claim. 

Personally, Sebastian was highly doubtful of such a thing.

The pain in his thigh was the result of a wartime wound from nearly a decade ago, a bullet that had struck him, nearly killed him, and failed to heal properly, even all these years later. The pain wasn’t always there, but when it came, it came heavy and without remorse, so extreme and unrelenting that there were days he could not even walk on it.

Sebastian had dealt with the pain over the years by creating his own remedies, as he was a budding herbologist, and rather enjoyed the process of mixing various herbs and testing their effects. But the wound was growing worse, and he conceded that it was time he sought the help of a professional. Hence, his visit today.

“Father! Come on!” Rosalie cried from down the driveway. “Hurry!” She was jumping up and down on the spot as Hildia hung onto her hand to try and keep her from escaping.

“I’ll be right there!” he waved to her.

“I’m going inside!” She flashed her eyes wickedly, yanked her hand free of Hilda, and sprinted toward the glass building as if her skirt had caught fire.

“Rosalie!” Hilda cried and chased after her.

“Rosalie!” he hobbled down the pathway, wincing from the pain in his thigh. “Careful!”

“Ah, Your Grace. Welcome!” As Rosalie hurried through the entrance, chased by Hilda, she dodged around a young man dressed in gardening clothes. He barely paid them any attention as he hurried toward Sebastian. “I am so pleased you were able to make it today.”

Sebastian looked to where his daughter had vanished, figuring that for now, she would be perfectly fine to be left with the governess.

“Yes.” He straightened up and brought his attention back on the herbologist. “Let us hope it is not a waste of time.” 

Of course, Sebastian had informed the conservatory of his visit today, as he did not wish to waste time explaining his needs, just as he hoped they would have some of their wares ready for inspection. 

“I think you will be pleased with what we have to offer,” the young man assured him. “We have the finest collection of tinctures and herbal remedies in the country. The king himself –”

“Yes, yes,” he cut over the man’s rambling. “Perhaps save the exaggeration for after you prove your worth.”

The herbologist came to a stop before Sebastian, suddenly appearing nervous. No doubt, put off slightly by Sebastian’s sharp manner. Sebastian eyed him with an expression that was bored, certainly not hopeful, and the herbologist grimaced.

“Yes, I …” He swallowed. “Am certain that this trip will be worth your time.” 

“Let us hope.” Sebastian flicked his eyes over the herbologist. “Is there anything else? I take it you don’t have the tinctures in your pockets?”

“Oh, no. They are inside.”

“Then there is not much point standing around out here, is there?”

“Yes, of course.” He bowed quickly and nervously. “Please, if you will follow me …”

The herbologist hurried down the pathway toward the conservatory, and Sebastian limped after him.

As a keen observer of herbology, and all things horticultural, Sebastian was immediately impressed by the grandeur of the conservatory. It was a glass building nearly the size of his own manor, made of many rooms, each dedicated to a specific type of plant. There were dozens of workers hurrying about, and they all bowed with respect as he passed them.

He was soon led into a smaller side-chamber, one with few flowering plants, mostly comprised of bookcases, desks, and tools for apothecary. 

There, the herbologist retrieved various furled pieces of parchment and spread them across the main desk, at which point he began to walk Sebastian through the concoctions he had set aside for Sebastian’s visit, while quizzing him on the nature of his injury.

“And it appears mostly with the warm weather, you said?” he asked curiously.

“And when I am tired,” Sebastian explained, even though he hated talking about the injury. 

“Very interesting, Your Grace,” the herbologist mused and rubbed his chin in thought. “If you will humor me, I would like to discuss previous treatments. Their effects, the pros and cons, and perhaps a history of the wound itself.”

“Fine.” Sebastian sighed.

In truth, Sebastian enjoyed talking about the various herbal mixtures and remedies that were suggested. He took a strange type of pleasure from their discussion and argument, weighing up the pros and cons of each, debating which to use, the reasons some might not work, and what he had tried in the past. It was, after all, his passion.

His late wife had loved it even more than he did, however, which might have explained his mood whenever the topic arose.. Nonetheless, he endured, and for the next thirty minutes, he and the herbologist managed to devise a new formula that was promised to take care of his leg once and for all.

Or so he claims, but I will keep my praise for after it works, if at all.

“It will take me a few minutes to prepare the samples for you,” he was told. “If you would like to wait …” the herbologist indicated to a chair across the room.

“No, I will find my daughter,” Sebastian told him. “Come find me when they are ready.”

Sebastian hobbled from the room and into the main body of the conservatory.

“Rosalie!” he called for her, smiling as he did, because he knew that his daughter would be racing about and collecting various flowers that caught her eyes, ones that she might want to bring home so that she could cure them. “Rosalie!”

He walked down a path which wound between rows of colorful saplings. He breathed them in, taking pleasure from their intoxicating smell and the memories they brought; memories from a better time, when he had been a different man to who he now was.

As he walked, he kept an eye out for his daughter … and that was when he saw her. Not his daughter, but someone else, a woman who, he decided the moment he laid his eyes upon her, was breathtaking.

She stood at the end of the pathway; her focus saved entirely for the ivy tree she was pruning. She attacked the tree with precision and perfection, the likes of which reminded him of his wife. She was particular in her movements and clearly an expert. She wore a smile as she worked, one that told of how she loved what she was doing. And the longer Sebastian watched, the harder he found it to look away.

The woman was dressed plainly, similar garb to what the other workers wore, and covered in dirt and grime. Her auburn-brown hair was a frightful mess. But it was her smile that he could not look away from: how soft it was, how mesmerizing and pure. He could not hear it, but he guessed she was humming a tune as she worked, and Sebastian felt a sudden need to walk closer.

Which he started to do …

His eyes stayed on the mystery woman the whole time, watching how she worked. She did not notice him; such was her focus on her task. It was hard to describe why he was so drawn to her. Yes, it was the way that she worked that he admired, but there was something more. A feeling that gathered deep inside him that he had not felt in years.

“Your Grace?” a voice spoke from over his shoulder.

Sebastian started at the voice and tore his eyes from the mystery woman to find the herbologist standing behind him. “What?” he barked.

“Your tincture samples are ready,” he said.

“Oh. Right …” A shake of the head, and Sebastian dared to look back at the mystery woman. She was gone when he did, and he felt a sinking in his stomach as if he had lost something. “Yes, let us … show me.” Another shake of the head, and he followed the herbologist back through the conservatory.

As for the mystery woman? Best that he put her out of his mind. Sebastian was not ready to consider such feelings that she very nearly aroused, and he doubted that he would ever be. That, he lamented, was his fate from this day until his last.