Page 23 of Snowdrops and Winterberry
“Heavens, you’re soaked.” He’d been too thrown off his guard to notice sooner.
Howard tucked back the curtain dividing the sitting area of his odd little house from his sleeping quarters and grabbed hisblanket. The curtain fell back into place as he turned toward his shivering visitor.
He wrapped the blanket around her.
“Thank you.” She spoke with such exhausted gratitude that he felt ever more guilty for not having realized her misery sooner. “While we were working on decorations for Adam’s Christmas party, Lady Jonquil said she’s fond of a flower called queen of the meadow, and her brother sent seeds back to England when he was away in the colonies. You’re planting a flower for Lord Jonquil. I thought you could plant this one for her, if Lord Jonquil will allow you to have some of the seeds.”
She had run through the rain to help him with his garden? What a remarkable thing to do.
She continued. “I don’t know what that flower looks like or if the seeds’ll still grow anything after so many years, but I thought you’d want to know.”
He opened the drawer where he kept his drawing supplies. “I should bring you with me on all my jobs; you could be my spy.”
“I’d do a fine job of it.”
“Queen of the meadow looks like this.” He quickly sketched the flower, one few people were familiar with. “The flowers start as tight balls and grow as dozens of tiny blooms on a stalk. When they open, each petal is a near-perfect circle. Long stamens emerge from the center, always in a different color from the petals.”
She studied his sketch as he worked at it. “What color is the flower?”
“They come in a variety: white, pink, purple.”
“The stamen looks almost like a crown.” She smiled at him. “Perhaps that’s the reason for its name.”
“Might very well be.”
Her fingers peeked out from beneath the blanket, holding it in place around her. “Where in the garden ought they to beplanted?”
“They need soil that remains quite moist, so they’d do best in the shade.” He pulled out the garden plan and unrolled it on his small table. “This flower bed, here, would be a good choice.”
She came closer once more, standing very near him to look at his plans. “Why not plant them in the same bed as the forget-me-nots? Those are Lady Jonquil’s favorite. Planting the two together would make that corner of the garden hers, in a way. I think she and her husband would both like the thought of that.”
“Brilliant.”
A droplet of water fell on the table by his plans, narrowly missing the paper. He stood and turned toward her, fully meaning to tease her about bringing the weather in with her, but she was closer than he’d realized. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and the rain had brought out the curl in her hair. Her deep brown eyes were fixed on him, the flicker of lantern light reflected in their depths.
“I wish my little stove put out more heat,” he said. “You’re soaked quite through.”
Her smile was soft. “The blanket helps.”
She was shivering though. He set his hands on her arms hidden beneath the blanket and rubbed them.
“Is Robbie your given name?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Roberta.”
“Roberta,” he repeated, liking the sound of it. “That name suits you.”
“It didn’t when I was a wee lassie.”
He could appreciate that. “When I was small, I was called Howie. That name would never do now.”
“Howard?” She seemed quite sure of her guess.
“What else?”
His hands slowed as his mind began spinning on the reality of her there, visiting with him, standing close, smiling at him.
“Thank you for holding my hand today in the pony cart,” she said. “I was fretting myself into a terrible worry.”
