April Kihlstrom by The Dutiful Wife Read Free Book Online

Beatrix even more.
    Had everyone gone mad? With a tiny shake of her head, Beatrix rose to her feet as well and led the way through the French doors to what passed for a garden at the Trowley residence. It was not a particularly pretty garden. Not wanting in wits, the Viscount was quick to notice how it differed from most gardens of the gentry.
    “Is that cabbage?” he asked in disbelief.
    “Yes, and peas and beans and carrots and potatoes,” Beatrix said, almost daring him to laugh.
    “M-most practical,” he finally managed to say after staring at the plants before him.
    “Yes, well, with such a large family, one needs to be,” she muttered.
    That brought his attention sharply back to her, which had not been her intention but now could not be avoided. “I am impressed,” he said.
    Those words alone might have earned him her undying gratitude, but then he took her hand and kissed it, looked deep into her eyes and said, “I think it a far more beautiful garden than any other I have seen. I know that ladies like flowers, but I should far rather see something useful when I look out my window.”
    Whatever there was in his words that made her want to cry, Beatrix could not have said. She only knew they did. She pulled her hand free and turned her back on him, surveying instead the garden plot before her. “I—I rather like flowers,” she sniffed, “but there is no denying we need the vegetables.”
    She felt rather than saw him come up close behind and put his hands on her shoulders. Was it only her imagination that he leaned forward and kissed the top of her hair? It must be her imagination, for no gentleman, particularly a stranger, would behave in such a way!
    But she did not imagine the soft throaty voice that said, “Then you should always have flowers, armfuls of them.”
    And why should his kindness make her want to cry even more? She managed a watery chuckle as she said, “You are kind to say so but then you have always been kind.”
    She could feel him go very still behind her. “You remember my visit?” he asked.
    Beatrix turned to face him. Suddenly he was no longer the stranger, but rather the kind boy who had not minded her tagging along with him almost ten years earlier. “How could I forget someone who was so kind to me?” she asked.
    It was his turn to color up and shift uncomfortably. But then he took a breath and met her eyes as he said, “You were the one who was kind. You listened to my foolish prattling of hopes and dreams and did not tell me they were all folly.”
    “Have you followed those dreams? Traveled to those places you wanted to go, done those things you wanted to do?” she asked.
    He shook his head. Now his voice was curt as he answered, “No, I grew up instead.”
    “I am so sorry,” she said softly.
    “Sorry?” he said, clearly taken aback.
    “No one should have to give up their hopes and dreams. No one should have to
grow up
, as you put it, if it means abandoning what makes them who they are.”
    He stared at her as if she had two heads and Beatrix could feel herself coloring up. Now she had done it. She had spoken without thinking and he thought her daft. But what could she say? It was how she felt. Her heart ached for the boy he had been, the one forced to abandon his dreams in order to
grow up
.
    Time seemed to stretch on forever before he finally spoke. “You are still kind,” he said, though his voice and manner were stiff. “It is what I remember best about you. That and your own dreams. You talked back then of wanting to someday marry and have children. Do you still wish for that?”
    Something in his eyes alarmed her and Beatrix took a step back. “W—why are you here?” she asked.
    He took a breath and made a sound that might have been exasperation. “Do we need to talk about that now?”
    “W—why should we not?”
    He looked away and Beatrix thought he was going to refuse to answer, but he didn’t. With the same gesture he had used as a boy, all