He raided the larder and found a couple of hard-boiled eggs, a basket of pastries, and a variety of fruit that his cook had thoughtfully prepared before leaving for the weekend. Reese set everything on the dining-room table and grabbed plates and silverware from the sideboard while he waited for Sophie.

When she breezed into the dining room a few minutes later, she wore a pale pink gown embroidered with dark pink flowers that made the formerly dreary room feel like a garden party. She set her portmanteau by the door and allowed him to pull out her chair for her. “This looks delicious,” she exclaimed, helping herself to a sweet roll. “I confess I’m famished.”

While they ate, she asked a few questions about the house and the garden.

He asked her about her childhood and her favorite school subjects.

Neither of them dared tread too close to sensitive or revealing topics. With the end of their time together looming, Reese felt as though they’d already begun to say goodbye—at least till next Friday.

But then, shortly before it was time for her to leave, Sophie turned to him and said, “Could I ask you something rather bold?”

“Certainly,” he said, hoping her question had nothing to do with his brother, his time on the front lines, or any other personal demons.

“Do you think your head gardener would mind if I provided a short list of chores for your groundskeeping staff to undertake?”

“I doubt it,” Reese replied. “I believe he’s been housebound for almost a year. I’m sure he doesn’t expect the garden to remain untouched in his absence.”

“I wouldn’t want to overstep,” Sophie said. “And the suggestions would be small improvements intended to restore the garden to its former glory. I have no wish to turn it into something else, because … well, there’s something magical about it, just as it is. I’d hate for a well-meaning but overzealous member of your staff to try and change the essence of the garden.”

“No, we’ll ensure that it retains its Underworld quality, so Hades always feels right at home,” he teased before adding, “I’d be grateful for your suggestions. What would you like to see done?”

“Why don’t I write out a list?” she said, setting her napkin on the table. “With instructions you can give directly to your staff.”

“Very well.” He pulled out her chair and led her down the hall to his study, where he invited her to sit at his desk.

“You have a few unopened letters here,” she said, pointing to three envelopes addressed to him, sitting near his quill.