V | Garden Secrets

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The year started with a series of party invitations for Aliya. She sorted through them and only accepted a few, one of which was the Winthrop garden party.

Winthrop was merely two hours away from Strait. Aliya dressed in a yellow gown she used in Humbrick Ball once last year, a gift from her gentleman.

Malcolm Walcott was a stocky and large man. His hair was starting to go bald despite his relatively young age of fifty.

Contrary to what people think, the Marquess of Hartcaster was a gentle and loving man. He may treat people with brutal honesty if his opinion was asked, but he never treated Aliya with disrespect. Not because he was her flower and it was expected of him to be in his best behavior, but because he was just inherently kind.

He was generous, but not so much with material things. No, he reserved most of that to himself. What he offered Aliya was friendship and a sense of security. Aliya's relationship with Hartcaster was not like the one she had with her first two flowers. They had an agreement and one that she had gladly accepted when he offered it to her.

Whenever he requested her presence, she would always be there. His closest friends and family knew of her purpose in the Marquess's life and they respected her for it. They treated her with as much respect as the Marquess, and when he invited her into the garden party of Lady Winthrop, his wife's cousin, Aliya gladly accepted. The other reason, of course, was because Belcourt wanted her to be there.

She knew she was being judged for being in the party of Hartcaster's cousin-in-law.

But it would only make things complicated if she explained for it was not her task to make them understand. The Marquess wanted secrecy and she shall provide that to him.

"My dear," said Hartcaster, leading her around the garden, passing guests who were discussing the harsh weather to come. Aliya wondered how much it would have cost Lady Winthrop to have her garden in such pristine condition at this time of the year. It surely would have been a lot of money wasted, she thought. It could snow again tonight or that very moment. "I will not be attending parliament this year," Hartcaster's words pulled her from her thoughts.

She nodded. "Of course, I understand," she said with a smile. She looked him in the eye. "You did not enjoy it last year, did you?"

"No, of course not. I believe I will never enjoy the season as much as I did years ago."

She allowed a moment of silence between them. Her gaze wandered around the garden, jumping from one hat to another.

And to her greatest surprise, Oliver St. Vincent was standing there, in one corner of the garden, leaning against a giant tree, laughing with Lord Winthrop and a few other gentlemen. She did not know he was acquainted with Lord Winthrop, the very man she was keeping watch.

Tearing her gaze off St. Vincent before he saw her, Aliya returned to the conversation at hand. "While it is unfortunate that you cannot attend parliament, and as much as I would like to stay in Strait for you, I am afraid that I may have to travel to Coulway now and then to go to Belcourt. Almost all Belles will be there and I wish to be there with them as well."

"Of course," Hartcaster retorted, placing a hand behind her back. "But I am hoping that you can come and visit the estate often."

"I will whenever I can. You know I always try, Malcolm."

The Marquess nodded and sighed. The two of them looked at the party. "It is the same party as last year. Lady Winthrop is crazy to put up a garden party in winter," he said. "And these people are crazier to attend."

"We are one of those people, Malcolm," she replied with a gentle smile.

Hartcaster nodded and softly chuckled. "Yes, you are right, Aliya."

Much later, Hartcaster left her side to join the gentlemen in the gaming room inside the estate where it was warmer. Aliya was with Lady Winthrop and a few others, talking about the collection of flowers the woman was trying to grow in her greenhouse. After one of the ladies suggested that they take a look, Lady Winthrop walked behind the group with Aliya beside her.

Lady Winthrop was a slender woman who just celebrated her sixtieth birthday. Aliya could imagine her being the queen of her seasons when she was younger for, despite her age, her face still resonated with the beauty. Her light green eyes were always filled with curiosity and knowing as if she knew everything about everyone. Known as a notorious gossipmonger, the woman was the only one of her kind that Aliya could tolerate for as much as the woman liked gossips, she rarely spread the false ones.

Her graying hair was hidden underneath a large bonnet hat and its brim nearly stripped Aliya of hers as the woman pulled closer to whisper, "How have you been, my dear?" asked Lady Winthrop.

"I am fine, my lady." I was tasked to spy on you, she added in her head.

"How is your arm? I heard you went to Sinclair to have it fixed."

Of course, the woman knew. "Yes."

"And I heard that St. Vincent personally corrected the dislodged bones."

Aliya winced at the term the lady used. She nodded anyway. "Yes, he did."

"That is a relief then. St. Vincent is the best. If he can only fix himself, he could have already landed himself a wife, bear children who will inherit the family business. And he could be earning more than his father did during his time. He could start another hospital somewhere."

Aliya found St. Vincent with the same group of men. "You seem to be familiar with him, my lady," she said.

"Oh, he saved Lord Winthrop's life quite a few times in the past. He made me cry a few times, too, that naughty boy! He told me many times my husband will die. I would be crying outside his operating chamber, pacing, and shaking. And St. Vincent would go out many hours later to say, 'Ah, I was wrong, my lady. He will not die today.' Can you imagine the horror and the relief?"

Aliya bit her lip to stop the smile.

"Do you know that he once raised a man from the dead?"

Aliya blinked. "He did?"

"Well, that is what he always claims. And if you know St. Vincent, he always claims to be the best. Which he is on most occasions." The woman dragged her down the garden path toward the greenhouse. "I truly appreciate what you are doing for Malcolm, dear. The past few years have not been the easiest."

The woman's voice had grown solemn too quickly and too soon that Aliya belatedly realized she had changed the topic. "Yes, but he is a strong man," she replied after reorganizing her thoughts.

"Everyone should be," Lady Winthrop said. "Now, let us join these women. Oh, I hate it when they pretend to have an interest in plants. None of them know anything as much as Natalia and I."

Aliya just chuckled, not recognizing Natalia. Lady Winthrop knew too many people and she always assumed that everyone was familiar with them, too.

"Ali!" the still air carried St. Vincent's voice to where Aliya and Lady Winthrop were.

"Oh, there he is," said Lady Winthrop, already making her way to the greenhouse. "Ward him off the greenhouse, will you, Aliya? He broke more than ten of my potted plants last year. And I will come and find you later, yes?"

Aliya smiled, her eyes on the glass walls of the greenhouse. She was trapped. Inside were eight or so women she did not truly want to spend another minute of her time with. Behind her was a giant man who kept calling out her name with his booming voice.

"Ali!" he shouted again as he approached.

Aliya sighed and turned to continue down the path that circled the greenhouse he was banned from.

"I thought you were coming into the greenhouse," he asked behind her, and merely a second later he was walking beside her.

He had on a green suit and a black patterned cravat. Whoever dressed this man ought to be burned at the stakes. But then, it could be all him. He appeared more presentable none the least. His hair was tucked behind his hair. They appeared clean, the waves thin and airy. His beard... well, it was still a bed of wildflowers over the bottom part of his face.

In his hand was a glass of brandy.

"I was tasked by Lady Winthrop to lead you away from the greenhouse." He flashed his white teeth at her.

"Ah, yes. I broke a few of her pots last year, but she went hysterical as though I killed the poor plants. And it is a rather small greenhouse," he said, waving at the ladies inside the glass-walled building. They waved back while Lady Winthrop gave him a look of warning. "Oh, I hate it when she and my mother get together."

Aliya's brows fused with curiosity. She slowed down and so did he, but she could sense that it was a struggle for him so she adjusted her pace, and he fell into an easier one. "I did not know you are acquainted with Lord and Lady Winthrop with much familiarity."

"My mother and Lady Winthrop are quite chummy. Lord Winthrop has been through many accidents in the past. I saved his life quite a few times and now he saves me the best brandies."

"Lady Winthrop told me, yes."

His loud gasp made Aliya frown up at him. "You have been talking about me."

She blinked and looked away. "Yes."

"Now, that is interesting."

His arm went around her shoulder and Aliya's eyes widened. "Your hand, Doctor."

"Ah, yes, of course, your arm is injured," he said, pulling his arm back.

"No, touching anyone without consent is simply not done."

"It is?"

"Yes."

"Then what of a dying man who cannot even utter a word? Should I not save him then because he has not given consent?"

She blinked in confusion. "That is an entirely different circumstance."

"I am saying my intentions to save a man's life and touching you are the same. The nature of the deed is innocent and without malice."

Aliya's mouth dropped open and she scoffed in disbelief. How he made sense of that argument baffled her because it did make sense.

"By the by, why are not with Hartcaster?" She did not reply. "Now, you will find this question offensive, but I have to ask. Why are you in the party of his wife's cousin?"

"Because I was invited as a friend," she replied without feeling the need to defend herself. She was used to the judgment.

"He is too old for you, do you not think so?"

"And age matters to you, sir?"

He narrowed his eyes. "No, I do not think so."

"Then what does? Beauty?"

"Does beauty matter to you, Ali?"

"Of course," she replied almost immediately. His brows were arched high when she stole him a glance. "The beauty of one's soul."

"I have a wonderful soul."

Aliya scoffed. "No, what you have is too much dose of spirits."

His hazel eyes widened with amazement as he laughed. "Your allegory astounds me."

"You are not the only one who can manage a wise quip, St. Vincent."

"I wonder if all Belcourt women are the same."

Aliya's face hardened. "I cannot answer anything about Belcourt if that is what you are trying to make me do." She turned her head to face the path ahead of them. The bare branches of the trees on each side arched along their path and St. Vincent had to bend slightly to protect his head.

"I am merely curious, Ali. I tried to be a gentleman three times. My applications were all denied."

"You tried to be a gentleman of Belcourt," she wryly said, not believing him. "Whyever would you wish to be one?"

"I have my reasons," he said with a quick smile. He emptied his glass and let out a big sigh.

"Why are you curious about Belcourt?"

He turned his head and his eyes met hers. Suddenly, he was looking rather serious. "Because I want to know what life is like for a child in Belcourt."

Aliya answered with a frown. "The children are taken care of the way they would have not otherwise been outside. They are given their basic needs and education."

"And the ladies?"

"Again, you are trapping me to satisfy your curiosities, but I shall respond to your query. The ladies are treated well. Belcourt does its best to protect us."

He fell silent for a while until they were at the end of the path. "Can you say that you had a good life in Belcourt, then, Ali?"

"Yes, of course. I still have a good life in Belcourt."

Again, there was that look in his eyes. The familiarity, the knowing. "And before Belcourt?"

His question rendered her speechless. Refusing to answer, she smiled up at him and instead asked, "Why are you curious about me, St. Vincent?" At the back of her mind, she could feel something prodding her again, telling her that she was missing something.

He shrugged. "I told you—I like you."

Aliya chuckled, turning her head to look at the party at the distance. "You are always honest, are you not?"

"I told you—I have a wonderful soul."

Aliya scoffed and shook her head. "Have a nice afternoon, Doctor," she said, walking away from him.

"When will you come to Sinclair?" he asked behind her. "Ali!" When he shouted her name, a few of the guests turned to look.

Aliya's face flushed, her feet taking her further away from him.

"You cannot walk away from me forever, Ali!" he shouted behind her again.

Aliya quickened her steps, intent on disappearing inside the estate and hide from St. Vincent's vulgar presence.

*****

Oliver watched Aliya from the corner of his eye. She was being led by Lady Winthrop into the estate, their head bent together as if sharing a secret.

"Say, my lord," he said to Winthrop, a stocky man holding a smoking pipe beside him, "do you think you should allow Lady Winthrop to be around a Belle?"

Winthrop followed his gaze. "Ah, it is simply Aliya."

"I would not just say simply Aliya, Winthrop. She is still from Belcourt."

"And my wife is the wife of a Royal," said the man under his breath. "She may seem careless because of her reputation, but she is the smartest. She knows what she is doing and what she could not do whenever a Belle is around."

"Well, if you are certain about that," he said, pretending to dismiss the topic. "I will need more brandy," he said, already walking away.

"Of course, you do," he heard Winthrop grumble under his breath.

Entering the estate, Oliver hastened his steps. He skidded to a stop when he saw Lady Winthrop walking toward him, alone. "St. Vincent!" she greeted with a nod. "Are you looking for more brandies?"

"Winthrop told me I can get the best one in the study."

She laughed. "Yes, indeed. But that will be the last one for you, young man! Or I will tell your mother!"

Without a word, he gave a slight bow and walked away. He turned into the corridor Lady Winthrop came from. It led to a staircase. He looked up and caught a glimpse of Aliya's yellow skirts before she disappeared into another corridor.

He followed and then stopped at the top of the stairs with a frown.

The corridor she took was lined with bedchamber doors.

He allowed himself a few seconds to think.

Making up his mind, he turned and bounded down the stairs, heading to study where Winthrop's best brandy was indeed located. After he poured himself a drink, he looked out the window that overlooked the garden. Hartcaster was sitting with a few gentlemen. Aliya was upstairs in a bedchamber.

Odd.

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