Garden of May

Chapter 51

“If she’s such a fine woman, why don’t you marry her, cousin?”

“Morton’s daughter? Me?” His voice was laced with a strange self-mockery. Theodore turned from the window to look at his cousin. The usual amiable mask Edgar wore was gone, replaced by an unusual stillness. At the end of Edgar’s deepened gaze was her: Hayley Morton, the brown-haired young lady he had so readily praised.

“Think about it. A match like that would appease your grandmother.” Edgar, his gaze now averted from Hayley, winked, offering the suggestion lightly. Had Theodore missed that flicker in his eye, he might have been fooled by the casual air. But having glimpsed the hidden depths Edgar usually kept concealed made the slip all the more revealing.

Theodore slowly rubbed his dry lips with the back of his fingers. Choosing a response that would irritate his dark-hearted cousin was easy. “She has a lovely neck.”

“…I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear that. Well then, I’ll be in touch soon.” The reply came almost instantly. Edgar, his expression expertly schooled, picked up his bag and stepped down from the carriage. After a few steps, he turned back with an almost flippant wave before striding toward the woman.

Whatever he said made her smile brightly. She then turned, a parasol clutched tightly in her hand, and curtsied gracefully toward the carriage he had just left, as if she could see inside. As if she knew he was watching her through the window. It seemed the purpose of her presence had been clear from the start. Ambition glimmered in her demurely cast-down eyes. For a fleeting moment, she had resembled Vanessa, but now, face-on, she looked nothing like her. How could he have even briefly been mistaken? He lowered the hand that had been gripping the curtain.

“Ah…”

As dusk deepened, the images that had begun to race through his mind upon seeing her pale neck—so like Vanessa’s—became more vivid. Theodore took a slow, deep breath. It was as if Vanessa’s sweet scent still clung to him, sometimes even creating the illusion that he was still buried within her embrace.

Her flushed face, her delicate movements, her soft cries—so beautiful he could listen to them forever. Just like now.

“Harder…” A distorted voice gasped faintly in his memory. In reality, most of what Vanessa had uttered during their intimacy were pleas to slow down, to rest.

Yet, the fantasy replaying in his mind felt as real as any truth. Consumed by a desire that wouldn’t quite abate, she begged, pleaded, wept, and clung to him with seductive abandon. He exhaled languidly, closing his eyes.

“Oh, Theodore… please…” Her gentle arms eagerly embracing him, her fragrant warmth, her wicked lips daring to speak his name. Theodore tilted his head back, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. A heavy, burgeoning desire pulsed within him.

His impulsive choice had been deeply satisfying. He had a feeling he would long remember this place, this moment with her, even after summer faded—like a scar or a fingerprint etched upon his body, a lifelong mark.

And the feeling wasn’t unpleasant at all.

***

As summer reached its peak, even the early mornings became unbearably hot. The weather was often capricious; a clear sky would cloud over by afternoon, thick fog would roll in at dawn, and a light drizzle would frequently turn into a downpour.

Just as the seasons changed, the garden’s plants began to bud and bloom. Small peaches swelled in size, and the heather bushes grew waist-high seemingly overnight. Summer waterbirds from the river perched on the branches of the poplar trees, singing their beautiful songs, and dew-kissed lilies of the valley bloomed profusely wherever one stepped. Vanessa loved Sommerset most at this time of year.