Page 7 of Snowdrops and Winterberry
Howard shrugged. “It’d depend on how different the stone was. Some would look odd together. Some would look complementary.”
“Do any of these local quarries have stone that would be well-suited to the project?”
A bit of hope bubbled. If Lord Jonquil was open to the idea of a different type of stone, one that could be obtained in the area, that would speed up the work. Howard would not be forced to push back the completion date. “There’s a quarry not far outside Hexham that has stone that would look nice.”
“You’re certain?” Lord Jonquil pressed.
This was firmer footing for Howard. He nodded. “I’ve used their stone before. Good quality, reasonable price. The color’d be a fine complement to what you have already. I haven’t the least doubt.”
“Then, I think we have a solution.”
Howard popped his hat back onto his head, feeling a little less worried. It wasn’t the only bridge that needed to be crossed, but it put him on the right path. He’d see that the footings were completed, then ride out to the quarry to arrange for the stone to be carted to Brier Hill.
Lord Jonquil wandered over to the workers. Howard held his breath for a moment; would His Lordship interrupt their work? He needn’t have worried. The gentleman simply walked along the edge of the footing trench, looking on silently. His eyesscanned the area that would be the garden, the mountains in the background, the expanse of lawn around them. Howard hoped he was pleasantly picturing the space after the work was done.
He needed to make certain there were no more bumps, no more difficulties he needed to bring to Lord Jonquil. The gentleman had been understanding and reasonable, but even the most patient people remembered frustrations. Howard wanted his patron’s praise of his work to be wholehearted.
Not far from the house, the young duke and the woman Howard assumed was the boy’s governess stepped out onto the lawn. They’d not made a turn about the grounds in the three days since he had spotted them across the way. He assumed they had found other places to undertake their exercise. If they meant to make a habit of traversing this area, he needed to tell her a thing or two.
He wasn’t merely worried about the boy causing problems with the work, though hewasworried about that—there was also danger in little ones hanging about a worksite. The footing was deep and the child might fall in. Once the stones arrived, there was risk of being crushed. The woman looking after him needed to be careful.
He tossed back to his workers, “Keep at it. I’ll rejoin you in a minute.” Howard crossed the lawn toward the governess and her charge.
They caught sight of him as he approached, and neither one looked overly pleased. The governess was likely only a bit younger than his almost forty years. She wore her brown hair pulled up in a tidy but simple knot. Her clothes were, as he’d noticed the first time he’d seen her, those of the uncomplicated fashion of a servant. Being closer now than he’d been in past encounters, he could see that, even dressed and coiffed as modestly as she was, the duke’s governess was rather striking. Her brown eyes were sharp and expressive. Her features weresomething more than merely pleasing; they were intriguing. Now, however, was not the time for mental wanderings on the topic of the woman’s beauty.
Howard turned toward the little duke. He had met a few boys the same age as this one, but he had never seen one look so fearsome. The young duke wore a black frock coat over a gray-striped waistcoat with black breeches and black shoes. Only the white of his shirt and stockings broke up the somberness of his attire. The boy was, Howard knew, in mourning, but his appearance added an air of harshness more than of grief.
Howard dipped his head in deference to the boy’s rank. “Your Grace, I need a word with your governess.”
“She’s not my governess.” He spoke in fully imperious tones. No matter that he was just a little thing, Howard found himself taking a step back and feeling the urge to apologize.
“I am the nursemaid,” the woman said. A Scotswoman, from the sound of her voice. That she was a nursemaid was a stroke of luck. Governesses could be full of their own importance; a nursemaid would be easier to reason with.
To the duke, he said, “Will you grant us a moment?”
With a twitch of his head so tiny as to put a fellow firmly in his place, the boy stepped away and returned to the house.
“A child needs fresh air and exercise,” the nursemaid said. “I do nae appreciate you preventing His Grace from obtaining his.”
Howard hadn’t been expecting a scolding. This might not be as easy as he’d hoped.
“I only needed to drop a word of warning in your ear,” he said.
“Oh, you do, do you?” She ruffled up.
He was making a bad beginning.
“We are undertaking a build just now, Mrs....” He waited for her to fill in the missing name.
“Miss MacGregor.”
Miss.Of courses she would beMissMacGregor. Servantsweren’t generally permitted to marry and retain their positions. His thoughts were not so ordered and clear as he’d have hoped. Too much was spinning in his mind. “Miss MacGregor, you simply can’t let His Grace run wild about the grounds.”
Her laugh emerged as a snort.
“Why do you find that funny?” He’d not at all expected her to be amused.
She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Have you ever known a duke to run wild anywhere?”
