Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (256 page)

152

The Viscount Claims His Bride

She was nearly there, if memory served. The tall, square tower of St

Church was coming into

view and

was a mile down the road after

that. She'd only been here once, right parents had died. Her family had come over to help settle the estate. She had been twelve at the time, but she remembered the journey with remarkable clarity.

The road veered south past the church's lych gate, past the tidal creek that ran alongside the building and up one last hill to the vast park and gardens of Roseland.

At first glance,

looked no better than it

ought for a place that had been masterless for nearly a decade--even longer if one counted the years after Valerian's parents' deaths. The magnificent gardens that had once been

fame were overgrown,

rhododendron bushes crowding out old woody hy-drangeas, and bluebells growing wild where they willed.

But at second glance,

could already see

Valerian's expert hand at work as the coach tooled up the long drive toward the house. Gardeners swarmed the lawn with long scissors, trimming and shaping the ragged edges and uneven patches of lawn. The gardens closest to the house teemed with workers digging restraining walls and clearing flower beds.

The coach pulled into the circular drive in front of the house and

marvelled at the elegance

that greeted her. The cobblestoned circle was free of any intrusive weeds that might grow between the stones. The stones looked freshly paved, smooth and

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evenly laid one against the other without any uneven ground between them that might trip an unsuspecting guest.

dismounted, staring in wonder at the centre of the driving circle and its a magnificent stone fountain spilling water into a pool at its base. To add colour to the centre, the fountain base was surrounded by a bed of flowers in bright blues, whites and reds.

The fountain was done in the classical style to complement the architecture of

and

reminded

of something one might see in an

Italian piazza.

She could not resist the lure of splashing water.

Thinking she was alone,

gave into the temp-

tation to put her hand beneath the spilling water, laughing as she did so.

man's chuckle answered her laughter. She swiftly pulled back her hand and gathered her dignity,

around.

'Your Grace, welcome to Roseland.'

dignified

man

down the stairs leading up and to the front door. 'I am teves, the Viscount St Just's butler.

He instructed me to watch for

stifled a groan. What an image she must paint.

would think her quite gauche for engaging in such childish behaviour.

'The viscount will be pleased to know you liked the fountain. It is new.

put it in just this past

month. He laid the cobblestones himself.'

could very well imagine Valerian doing such a thing. If S teves thought the news would

154

The Viscount Claims His Bride

surprise her, he would be disappointed. 'His crafts-manship is excellent as always,' she said.

S teves nodded and said meaningfully, 'Indeed it is. He hoped you'd like it.'

She blushed and fought the urge to ask to

clarify. It would show too much eagamess to probe.

Instead, she asked. 'Where is the viscount, Steves?'

'He's out on the back terrace, my lady. If you would follow me? footman can see to your trunks.'

'Out on the back terrace' was something of an understatement,

realised shortly.
She
was

on the freshly swept terrace with its sturdy wicker furniture. Valerian was engaged with four other men in the process of moving an enormous planter containing a type of tree

had never seen.

Apparently, the gigantic container was to go on the edge of the terrace, situated so that it could shade the cluster of wicker furniture grouped on that side.

Valerian caught sight of her and waved, motioning that she should take a seat and wait.

He looked glorious. His hair shone in the sunlight and he wore only his shirt, the sweat of his efforts plastering the thin material to his back so that could plainly see the play of his muscles as they strained to set the planter into place.

The men gave the planter a last push and Valerian stepped back, satisfied with its placement. 'Perfect.

It's exactly what I was hoping for,' Valerian explained, stripping off his thick workman's gloves and coming to take a chair next to Philippa.

'It's a marvellous tree, Val.' The old nickname slipped off her tongue before she could catch herself.

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155

She bit her lip. To his credit, Valerian did not comment on it.

'It's a Chusan Palm. I sent a seedling back from Italy several years ago. My head gardener saw to it and here it is today.' Valerian rose and walked over to study the mop of green fronds that topped the palm, estimating its height. 'I don't imagine it will get much taller than this. The gardener I talked to in Italy said the plant stays shorter in colder climates because of the winds bothering its top leaves. Of course, in the Mediterranean regions it grows much taller.'

'I didn't know you were in Italy,'

said in

surprise. She was just starting to realise it was only one of many things she didn't know about him.

'Just briefly. It was a trip only, nothing permanent.' Valerian shrugged. 'I took full advantage, though. I visited every garden I could. I even went up to Florence when my work in Rome was concluded so I could see the

Gardens.' Valerian

laughed suddenly, looking very young and very happy, if one ignored the tell-tale dark circles under his eyes. 'I've been in the dirt so long, I've lost my manners. Here you are, newly arrived, and I am rambling on about plants. My apologies, Philippa. I am glad you're here. Do you think you're up to the task?'

'You don't need to stand on ceremony with me.'

She smiled back, lost in the wondrous moment of being with her friend. This was the Valerian she missed. 'The place looks good. I like the fountain.'

'It will look better once you and I are through with it,' Valerian said. 'I want the gardens to shine