“No dear,” his stepmother said. She wasn’t one to put herself forward. The woman hated arguments and Jackson wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the woman openly disagree with her husband. But in this, she entwined her fingers in his. “The family owns the daffodils. Haven’t you told me that often enough? You’re a caretaker for the land. A steward for the Albury title.”
“You’re mincing my words.”
“I’m repeating them exactly,” she countered.
To the side, he saw Abigail open her mouth to speak, but Jackson cut her off with a quick shake of his head. He needed his father to soften. He needed the family money to make his idea work. And at the moment, his stepmother was the only one making headway. Or maybe not, because his father shook his head.
“I’ll not risk everything we have now on foolishness. I know how it ends.”
“No,” he said to his father. “You know how it ended before. Not how it will end now.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“Dreaming?” he retorted. “You haven’t asked about my plans. You haven’t seen the details.” He didn’t mean for his voice to rise, but it was a sore point for him. He hated it when he was lumped in with all the feckless youths who thought a good idea was all that was needed to make a profit. The idea was the beginning. The rest was hard work and a meticulous attention to detail. “You have dismissed me out of hand.”
His father pursed his lips. Not exactly a reversal, but certainly a softening. So Jackson pressed it. “Would you like to see?”
“I could take a look at your plans.”
“Good. Thank you.” He started to say more, but his father cut him off.
“But all the details won’t work if the idea isn’t sound.”
True enough. “You’ll have one week to convince me, Father, because after that, I’m spending every penny I have on this.”
His father shook his head as he glared at Gwen. “She’s turned your head.”
Far from being insulted, Gwen shrugged. “Your son’s head is completely under his control. Mine, on the other hand, seems to have a fondness for madmen.”
If he weren’t in love with her before, that statement would have pushed him firmly off the cliff into devotion.
Chapter Twenty-One
What started outas a difficult week rapidly became tense. Gwen was so grateful to have found companionship with Beatrix. They spent a great deal of time together discussing the anatomy of flowers and that steadied her enough to face the rest of the family. She didn’t blame anyone else for her awkwardness. Everyone was on edge, what with the earl and his son arguing night and day. Whenever possible they all escaped outside. Camile showed her their small store of daffodil bulbs. Lady Albury introduced her to the man who tended the daffodil garden, and together they built crates to transport both bulbs and flowers. Abigail helped with that, too. She even taught Gwen how to hammer in nails with the fewest number of whacks, which was incredibly satisfying.
In short, if it weren’t for the men, Lady Gwen would likely have enjoyed this visit. But it was impossible to escape the constant bickering between father and son. At least it was until Lord Sayres found her one morning in the middle of the daffodil garden as she inspected the soil. She was on her knees in the far corner where the soil was wetter because of the slope of the land. She had a theory regarding water and how quickly the bloom grew. But when she heard her name called out in his deep voice, she popped up with a surprised gasp.
“Lord Sayres?”
“There you are.” Relief echoed in his voice.
“Is there a problem?”
“No. Well, yes, but…” He blew out a breath. “I fancy a visit to my ancestral home,” he said as quickly walked down the path toward her. “Care to see a moldering old castle with me?”
“I would be happy to,” she said as she brushed the soil off her hands. Unfortunately, it was thick and moist as all good soil should be and so she smeared it all over her gardening dress. “I will need to change,” she said.
“You are perfectly fine for the disaster that is my inheritance. But if you wish to clean up, then I shall grab a picnic for us. Meet me by the gig in fifteen minutes.”
She agreed, but before she could depart, he held up his hand.
“And please, for my sanity, please do not tell anyone in my family about it.”
She smiled. A few hours alone with him would be lovely. “I shall remain silent on the topic.”
He grinned and held out his arm. “Then let me escort you back to the house.”
His arm was solid, and the sun was warm. She settled her hand on his forearm and together they walked in perfect accord. Lincolnshire was beautiful, especially in spring, and she felt contentment settle into her heart now that she could not hear anyone arguing about anything at all.