“And the landscape gardening? Did you learn that in France?”

She laughed. “No, I’m afraid neither my father or grandfather knew anything about plants or gardens. I first discovered my interest in gardening when I was living with my mother- and father-in-law. They wished to make changes and I happened to be living in their home at the time. They wanted a sculpture from me, and I was allowed to design the setting, as well. I worked with the man they employed, who said I had an aptitude for such work. When I moved to London, I took care of the neglected garden in the house where I still live.” She shrugged and gave him a smile that made his stomach clench for some odd reason. “Next I helped a friend, and then their friends saw what I had done. Within a few years people seemed to find me and ask me to design their gardens. I’m sure you know how it is?”

Gareth had no idea how it was. Nobody had ever asked him to design a garden for them. But he thought he knew what she meant. She had slowly worked her way into her current position. A difficult thing to do for anyone, and probably doubly difficult for a woman.

Featherstone came out of his sulk and took charge of the conversation. For once, Gareth was glad of the garrulous man’s empty natterings. He was content to look at the woman and consider the interesting tale she had told him.

Chapter Three

It had been an exhausting night, but Serena could hardly recall a more interesting one. The three of them had retired to the library after dinner, Lockheart apparently having no idea of the impropriety of skipping after dinner port.

Serena had looked at the plans Beech provided and realized that, here again, was another man intent on abusing Lockheart’s trusting nature.

She’d never met anyone quite like the wealthy young merchant prince. He appeared to be completely without interest in human beings, without a sense of humor, and utterly focused on whatever business was at hand. Not only that, but the entire time she spent with him, she couldn’t help feeling she only had a part of his attention. She suspected a greater part of his brain was churning away and functioning on some other—higher?—plane. Indeed, he had the appearance of an artist in the midst of a creative frenzy. Serena had seen the same expression on her artist friends’ faces and felt a similar near-euphoria when visited by the muse, herself. Although Lockheart had not manifested any of the outward signs of artistic obsession—dishevelment, absentmindness, forgetfulness, irritability—he’d maintained the distant stare of a person whose mind was engaged elsewhere.

But, after dinner, that stare had sharpened quickly as they’d begun to study Beech’s oversized sketch of the estate.

Indeed, Lockheart had proved to be a fascinating conspirator on the landscaping plan, even though he had no interest in the results themselves. No, what he had liked had been the mathematics and engineering aspects. Questions of water flow and volume had, in particular, seemed to fascinate him. They had spent most of their time examining the best place to dam and build the lake.