newer servants all seemed satisfied with their posts.
Daniel blinked at her response. “Oh,” he responded, his quizzical expression suggesting he thought the entire staff would have given their notice. “And those who work in the stables? In the carriage house?”
“No,” Clarinda answered carefully.
Frowning, Daniel leaned forward and clasped his hand together, his elbows supported on his knees. “And the house? Any ... overlooked maintenance? Leaky roof? Drafty windows?”
“No,” Clarinda shook her head, joining her own hands together on her lap. Then, thinking she should make some comment other than ‘no,’ she added, “The kitchen was recently remodeled and now has a newer stove. And we acquired an ice box.” She was rather glad for this last addition since it allowed her to serve her guests cold lemonade instead of the lukewarm lemon water that reminded her of the dreck they served at Almack’s.
“Oh,” Daniel answered with a nod that seemed to suggest he was impressed. “And the gardens?”
Clarinda smiled then. “Mr. Foster does a wonderful job keeping the grounds trimmed and the gardens looking neat and tidy,” she offered with a nod. Of all the staff at Norwick House, she liked Mr. Foster the best because he did such a good job in the only position that was the most evident to anyone who drove up to Norwick House and parked in the semi-circular drive in front. As for the gardens in the back, she frequently walked through them with her visiting friends when the weather permitted.
“I take it he can grow roses,” Daniel stated, a slight smile finally touching his lips.
Clarinda nearly sucked in a breath at the sight of his changed expression. It was the first hint he’d shown of not being angry. Her face changed to a slight frown, though, when she realized what he had said. “We actually don’t have any roses in the gardens, nor out front,” she murmured, a look of puzzlement crossing her face.
“No roses?” Daniel repeated, his brows furrowing as if she’d said there was no brandy in the library.
Thinking of brandy, Clarinda remembered she hadn’t rung for tea. Nor had she offered Daniel anything stronger. “Would you like a glass of brandy, my lord?”
Daniel blinked. “It’s not even ten o’clock in the morning, my lady.”
Clarinda regarded him for a moment, wondering as to the significance of his statement. She was quite sure David imbibed anytime of the day or night. “Tea, then?” she suggested, reaching over to shake the silver bell that she’d left on the edge of the settee the morning when David had swept her into the dip and kissed her senseless. She almost imagined Daniel doing the same and had to shake her head to rid herself of the almost-formed picture in her mind.
“Fine,” Daniel responded with a wave of his hand. “No pink roses?” he asked then, apparently not willing to give up the conversation about the gardens.
Clarinda turned to him from having nodded at Rosie, who had appeared in the doorway as if she had been camped out in the hallway. “No pink roses, my lord,” she affirmed, “Although the maid’s name is Rosie,” she added as she waved a hand toward the doorway. She wondered if she needed to direct Mr. Foster to plant a huge rose garden before the day was done. There was certainly room in the back, near the edge of the parkland that bordered the property line.
Daniel stared at her for a very long time. “I thought ... I thought they were your favorite flower,” he stammered, a muscle in his jaw working overtime.
Clarinda leaned her head to one side and regarded her brother-in-law for a very long time. “They are,” she acknowledged with a nod, wondering how Daniel knew such a thing. Had David mentioned it to him? She could hardly imagine the brothers discussing her love of pink roses. “How ... how did you know?” she asked quietly, deciding she wanted to know.
His lips thinning to a straight line, David ducked his head a
Daniel blinked at her response. “Oh,” he responded, his quizzical expression suggesting he thought the entire staff would have given their notice. “And those who work in the stables? In the carriage house?”
“No,” Clarinda answered carefully.
Frowning, Daniel leaned forward and clasped his hand together, his elbows supported on his knees. “And the house? Any ... overlooked maintenance? Leaky roof? Drafty windows?”
“No,” Clarinda shook her head, joining her own hands together on her lap. Then, thinking she should make some comment other than ‘no,’ she added, “The kitchen was recently remodeled and now has a newer stove. And we acquired an ice box.” She was rather glad for this last addition since it allowed her to serve her guests cold lemonade instead of the lukewarm lemon water that reminded her of the dreck they served at Almack’s.
“Oh,” Daniel answered with a nod that seemed to suggest he was impressed. “And the gardens?”
Clarinda smiled then. “Mr. Foster does a wonderful job keeping the grounds trimmed and the gardens looking neat and tidy,” she offered with a nod. Of all the staff at Norwick House, she liked Mr. Foster the best because he did such a good job in the only position that was the most evident to anyone who drove up to Norwick House and parked in the semi-circular drive in front. As for the gardens in the back, she frequently walked through them with her visiting friends when the weather permitted.
“I take it he can grow roses,” Daniel stated, a slight smile finally touching his lips.
Clarinda nearly sucked in a breath at the sight of his changed expression. It was the first hint he’d shown of not being angry. Her face changed to a slight frown, though, when she realized what he had said. “We actually don’t have any roses in the gardens, nor out front,” she murmured, a look of puzzlement crossing her face.
“No roses?” Daniel repeated, his brows furrowing as if she’d said there was no brandy in the library.
Thinking of brandy, Clarinda remembered she hadn’t rung for tea. Nor had she offered Daniel anything stronger. “Would you like a glass of brandy, my lord?”
Daniel blinked. “It’s not even ten o’clock in the morning, my lady.”
Clarinda regarded him for a moment, wondering as to the significance of his statement. She was quite sure David imbibed anytime of the day or night. “Tea, then?” she suggested, reaching over to shake the silver bell that she’d left on the edge of the settee the morning when David had swept her into the dip and kissed her senseless. She almost imagined Daniel doing the same and had to shake her head to rid herself of the almost-formed picture in her mind.
“Fine,” Daniel responded with a wave of his hand. “No pink roses?” he asked then, apparently not willing to give up the conversation about the gardens.
Clarinda turned to him from having nodded at Rosie, who had appeared in the doorway as if she had been camped out in the hallway. “No pink roses, my lord,” she affirmed, “Although the maid’s name is Rosie,” she added as she waved a hand toward the doorway. She wondered if she needed to direct Mr. Foster to plant a huge rose garden before the day was done. There was certainly room in the back, near the edge of the parkland that bordered the property line.
Daniel stared at her for a very long time. “I thought ... I thought they were your favorite flower,” he stammered, a muscle in his jaw working overtime.
Clarinda leaned her head to one side and regarded her brother-in-law for a very long time. “They are,” she acknowledged with a nod, wondering how Daniel knew such a thing. Had David mentioned it to him? She could hardly imagine the brothers discussing her love of pink roses. “How ... how did you know?” she asked quietly, deciding she wanted to know.
His lips thinning to a straight line, David ducked his head a
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