Page 32 of Her Runaway Duke
Levi was still recovering from the shock of their kiss when she asked him about the garden.
How was it that sharing that part of himself made him feel even more vulnerable than the physical closeness between them?
“What is there to tell?” he asked, hoping to deter her, but she continued.
“Why roses?” she asked, and he had to look away from her, off into the distance as he decided whether or not to tell her the full story.
Eventually, he realized that she wasn’t going to go away until he explained it in one way or another.
“My mother loved roses,” he said, finally. “My brother grew a garden for her, attempting to win her love by giving her the flowers that she adored. I’m not sure whether he succeeded or not, for she wasn’t one who would ever say. When our estate burned down, so too did the rose garden.”
“So, you planted one here for your mother – or for your brother?”
It was a good question.
“Both, I suppose.” He paused, revelling in the strange sensation that here, in this moment, in this grove where the garden lived, he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge him for it, nor use it against him in some way in the future. “I always thought that the roses were just like my mother – beautiful on the outside, but somewhat prickly when you came too close. I do think, however, that she loved us in her own way. She just didn’t know how to show it, didn’t know if she was supposed to.
“My brother was the kind of man who didn’t care how she treated him – he just wanted to give her that love in whatever way he could. He was the best kind of man there ever was.”
“I am sure he would be happy with what you are doing to keep his memory alive,” she said quietly, and he noted the tear in her eye from listening to his story.
He swallowed his own emotion.
“He should be here instead of me,” he said, his voice raw as he looked in the distance, unable to meet her gaze any longer as the shame ran through him again.
She caught his attention once more when she placed her hand on his arm. “Don’t ever say that.”
“It’s the truth,” he said, knowing he was practically glaring at her, but needing her to understand. “Before I became… this, I was not the best of men. I was your typical second son, enjoying life without worrying about the consequences of my actions. Drinking, gambling, womanizing. My brother figured I needed purpose, so he bought me a commission in the army. It was there I became a different man. All thanks to him.”
He knew he sounded as though he was feeling sorry for himself, but he needed her to understand.
“Perhaps you are not a different man, but you added more parts to yourself,” she said in that soft, melodic tone of hers, her hand still on his arm as she stared up at him imploringly. “Isn’tthat who we are? A sum of our experiences? I can tell you that I am not the same woman who agreed to marry Lord Mulberry, but I am not a different woman, either. I have simply grown.”
To have grown, not to have changed – he had never thought of it quite like that.
“You are wise beyond your years,” he said, unable to fully agree with her and yet appreciating her all the same.
“I like to think I see the parts of themselves that people try to hide,” she said. “Why did you plant this out here? Why not in the gardens near the house, where everyone can enjoy?”
“They grow best here,” he said, even though it was a lie. It was because near the house, it seemed so exposed, a story that he didn’t want to share with anyone, that he never thought he would – until Siena.
She accepted his answer, whether because she understood he didn’t want to speak of it or because she believed it, he wasn’t certain, but she still crouched beside the rose bush once more.
“Do you think we could pick some flowers for a vase in the house?”
He wanted to say no but then saw the hope on her face and found that he didn’t have it within him to deny her.
“For your bedroom,” he said, and the smile that lit her face reached right into his heart.
“Thank you,” she said. “That would be wonderful.”
He pulled out his pocketknife and cut the stems before he took them in hand, not wanting her to prick her finger again. They walked back to the house together at a leisurely pace, Levi leading Lucky.
“How often do you ride?” she asked.
“At least twice a day,” he said, catching her surprise. “It gives me the chance to leave the house.”
“Do you ever go to London?” she asked.
