The section of the garden devoted to the gnarled, twisted poplars looked appropriately intimidating, and on the other side of the rotunda, the field of asphodels appeared delightfully haunting. The most mysterious part of the garden glimmered just beyond the main pavilion, promising magic and beauty in equal measures.

The garden was well on its way, but Sophie had some ideas for coaxing it along.

Intent on jotting down her thoughts, she strode to Reese’s desk, sank into his seat, and opened the top drawer in search of writing supplies. She found paper, pen, ink—

And something else: a small stack of letters. Unless Sophie was mistaken, they were the same letters she’d seen in Reese’s study last weekend. But now they were in his room—still sealed with wax.

She hesitated for a heartbeat, then reached for them and examined the three envelopes more closely. They were all from the same person; the handwriting outside was graceful and feminine, and the name in the upper left corner read Mrs. S. Conroy.

Clearly, Reese was reluctant to read the letters for some reason, but why?

She couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs. Conroy was a past lover … or a current one. Sophie had no reason—and no right—to be jealous.

And yet, an unsettled, sickly feeling swirled in her belly.

She reminded herself that he was downstairs at that very moment, preparing her a bath. And that she was the one who would soon be engaged to another.

With a determined sigh, she proceeded to write her notes about the garden. When she’d finished, she put away the paper and pen—but she left the list she’d written and the unopened letters on Reese’s desk.

When she returned to her bedchamber, she found that Reese had placed the bathtub in front of the hearth, where a cozy fire burned. A pair of thick towels and a bar of soap rested on a stool. He strode into the room, carrying a bucket of steaming water that he proceeded to pour into the tub.

“Perfect timing,” he said. “I left a jug of cooler water near the tub in case you need to mix some in.”

“Thank you, Reese,” she said, more than a little touched by his thoughtfulness. “I can hardly wait.”

“It was nothing,” he said, shrugging. With his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and a full day’s growth of beard, he looked every inch the rogue. Just the sight of him made her belly flutter.

“It certainly is something,” she countered. “At least to me.”

“Well,” he mumbled, uncharacteristically shy. “I’ll leave you to enjoy. I’ll be in the drawing room if you’d like to join me when you’re done.”

“You could stay,” she blurted. “That is, we have so little time together, and if you wanted to stay so that we could … talk, I wouldn’t mind in the least.”