“Why must you entertain callers?” Constance replied, taking his arm as Lady Althea went in search of her intended. “I want to bide endlessly in this garden. The fragrance alone…” She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. “You will be besieged with visitors once word of this garden reaches the village.”

This prospect apparently annoyed her. It moved Robert close to panic. “As long as you are among their number, I will bear up under the strain. Let’s gather a bouquet, shall we?”

“You needn’t be gallant with me, Your Grace. I will be more than content to sit out here and sketch.”

Robert leaned closer, as if old Saint Valentine might overhear. “I am not being gallant with you. I am sparing myself the torment of keeping company with the happy couple. They have lost all pretensions to decorum. The staff is in transports, and I alone am left to uphold the dignity of the house—of all the limitless ironies. The irises are coming in early this year, and I’m particularly impressed with some varieties I ordered from Antwerp last autumn.”

Lady Constance watched him as if he were speaking in a foreign language familiar to her and getting every fourth word wrong. He wondered if perhaps he’d had one of his spells, though usually when they struck, he could hear and see everything about him, he simply could not reply or move for a time.

“I am sure the irises are spectacular,” Lady Constance said, falling in step beside him. “So was my ire, when I beheld Rothhaven’s front drive. Such neglect will not do, Your Grace, unless you are determined to return to your reclusive eccentricities.”

“You were angry at a few weeds?”

“Weeds, ruts, the clogged drainage ditch, the flagstones cracking on the terrace. I understand your brother sought to guard you from an unkind world, but why not simply put a gate across the foot of the drive? You deserve a pleasant home, a place of refuge and repose, not some mausoleum for living ghosts.”

“You are annoyed on my behalf?” He had to ask, because his dealings with women had been limited, his dealings with women of rank non-existent.

“Of course I was annoyed on your behalf. A gate isn’t that expensive, but instead Lord Nathaniel, light of Althea’s soul and gentleman without compare, decided to make a wreck of your ancestral seat. Stephen has a similar flair for drama. I suppose you can handle the grounds as you please now, but I do hope repairing the drive is near the top of your list.”