Trevillion shifted, scraping his stick against the floor. Lady Phoebe swiveled her head, looking in his direction.
He cleared his throat. “I believe, my lady, that the rose canes you ordered have arrived. I noticed the gardeners unpacking them. I don’t suppose they need your supervision, but if you have an opinion on where they’re planted—”
“Why didn’t you say so at once?” Lady Phoebe was already moving, her fingertips trailing and tapping lightly along the backs of chairs as she walked. She halted at the door and half turned, not quite looking in his direction. “Well? Do come on, Captain Trevillion.”
“My lady.” He rose as briskly as he was able and limped toward her.
“Good-bye, dearest.” Lady Hero touched her sister’s shoulder as she passed by Lady Phoebe on the way out the door. “Try not to be so impatient.”
Lady Phoebe merely rolled her eyes.
The duchess tucked her chin as if hiding a smile. “Enjoy your roses.”
Then both she and Lady Hero were gone and he was alone with his charge.
She tilted her head, listening as he drew near. “They’re in the back garden? How did the canes look?”
“I saw them from my window, my lady,” he said as he drew abreast of her. “I couldn’t ascertain their condition.”
“Hmm.” She pivoted and began walking toward the stairs, her fingertips trailing along the wall.
He always felt a twinge of fear when she neared the staircase—it was wide and curving, and made of highly polished marble. But he’d learned after a few brief spats early in his employment that Lady Phoebe did not wish to be helped down the stairs. Indeed, despite his qualms, she’d never so much as faltered on them in his presence.
Still, he watched intently as she began her descent, ready to grab her arm should she waver.
“You’re hovering,” she said without turning.
“Hovering is my job.”
“That’s debatable.”
“No, actually, it isn’t,” he said, flatly.
“Humph.” They’d reached the ground floor now and she turned to walk toward the back of the house.
He grimaced as he took the last step overly hard on his bad leg.
She didn’t turn, but he noticed that she slowed her pace for him.
He limped grimly after.
Outside, a wide, paved terrace ran along the entire back of the house. Beyond was a formal garden, the flower beds mostly dormant at this time of year. There were two gardeners plus the young boy who helped them. All three came to attention as Lady Phoebe appeared.
“M’lady,” the eldest, a gnarled specimen of a man, called to give her their direction.
“Givens,” Lady Phoebe said. “Never tell me you’re planting without me.”
“Nay, m’lady,” the other gardener replied. He could’ve been Givens’s twenty-years-younger twin, they looked that much alike. In fact, Trevillion suspected that they were in some way related. He made a mental note to find out how.
“We was jus’ lookin’ over the canes,” Givens said.
“And how are they?” Lady Phoebe started forward. The canes had been laid out on the lawn between the flower beds.
Trevillion cursed under his breath and lengthened his stride, his stick thumping on the paving stones. He caught up to her just as she neared the shallow steps that led down to the garden.
“If you don’t mind, my lady.” He took her arm without waiting for her reply.
“And if I do?” she murmured.