Sophie’s throat grew tight. “Reese. Things must feel strange right now. All of this”—she waved a hand in the direction of the house, hoping he understood she was talking about the title, the estate, and all it entailed—“is new to you. But you’re not alone.”

“I left all my friends behind,” he said, his voice steeped in shame.

“You must have some family or friends here in London.” She prayed he wasn’t entirely alone.

“Just my valet, Gordon,” he said flatly. “He’s the only one I trust.”

“It may take a while for me to prove it to you,” Sophie said deliberately, “but you can trust me—and count me as a friend.”

A flicker of relief and hope flashed in his eyes. “You can trust me too,” he said, before turning his attention back to the flowers. One by one, he knotted and clumsily wove together the stems of at least a dozen of the delicate, lavender-gray blossoms.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re making?” she teased.

“I should think it would be obvious.” He held up a disjointed circle of squished petals, bent stalks, and wilted leaves. “It’s a flower crown.” With uncharacteristic, endearing shyness, he added, “For you.”

“Oh,” Sophie breathed. No one had ever made her a flower crown before, and she couldn’t have loved it more if it were a diamond tiara. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s my first attempt,” he said with a chuckle. “And probably my last. But I’m glad if you like it.”

“I adore it,” she confirmed.

“Then it’s time for your coronation.” He moved closer to the edge of his quilt, assumed an appropriately serious expression, and propped an elbow on his bent knee. She scooted closer to the edge of her blanket, her legs bent to the side, and looked up at him, expectant. Only a few inches separated them, and her body thrummed with awareness of nature, the night, and him.

He cleared his throat and let his gaze sweep across the landscape—the lawn, the garden, the woods, and the dark violet horizon beyond. “Loyal subjects,” he began in his deep, rich voice. “I hereby present to you Miss Sophie Kendall, your undoubted Queen.”

She smiled at that, but his expression remained serious as he looked directly into her eyes. “Will you solemnly swear to preside over the grass, trees, and flowers?”

Because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do, Sophie raised her right hand. “I do so solemnly promise.”

Reese lifted the flower crown from his lap and held it an inch above her head. “Then I pronounce you the queen of all you survey.” Reverently, he let it drop onto her head. “God save the Queen,” he said softly.