Maggie drew in a breath. “I—”
“Maggie’s an artist, Mother.” Davis glanced at Maggie, offering her a reassuring smile.
“I see.” Mother’s gaze didn’t leave Maggie, even through her raised glass. By the look of things, this lunch would probably be more difficult for him to navigate than for Maggie. Not that he blamed Mother for prying—with his history, and this being the first girl he’d brought home since his conversion… Allowing God to take control of his life had been the wisest thing he’d ever done. Mother still remained skeptical of the change, even after all this time. Who knew what Father thought. He didn’t say much, especially when the past year all focus had been on his brother’s disappearance.
“I commissioned a piece from Maggie. That’s how we met.”
“Oh. Is it finished yet, Magnolia?” Mother stressed Maggie’s name as she shot Davis a look. If he didn’t keep quiet now and allow Maggie to speak, he’d soon face a public tongue-lashing from his mother for certain. And then everyone would feel awkward. All he could do was sit tight and pray that the ring, and subsequently the reason for its creation, wasn’t discussed.
Like that was even remotely possible.
Davis glanced up, widened eyes begging for his father’s intervention, silent prayers pleading for divine intervention. He quickly turned his attention to Maggie who had just placed a piece of veal into her mouth. She set the fork down on her plate, her eyes flitting from Davis to his mother as her mouth moved trying to ingest the food.
Davis stretched across and patted Maggie’s hand. “Take your time. This is lunch, after all, not the Spanish inquisition.” Besides that veal cutlet with its thyme butter sauce deserved to be savored.
Maggie lifted her glass and took a mouthful of iced tea, swallowing fast. “I’d love to answer your mother’s questions.” She set the glass back down on the white Jacquard-print tablecloth, allowing a finger to trace the elaborately woven pattern before she raised her gaze. “You haven’t seen the piece yet, Lady Rathbone?”
“No. Should I have?”
“I just thought with tonight— It truly is a magnificent piece, if I may say so myself.” Maggie glanced at Davis, her sad eyes brightening. “The best piece of work I’ve ever done, in fact.”
No, no, no, Maggie. Don’t go there.
Mother set her knife and fork down on her plate and pushed the food aside. Resting her chin on her hand, she leaned in closer. “I’m intrigued.”
With the artwork, Mother, or Magnolia?
“It’s the most beautiful bloom I’ve ever created—sparkles as if showered with dew. And the golden arum lilies bordering the piece… I love them.”
“Floral artworks are my favorite. Acrylic or oil?”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed, a tiny wrinkle forming on her forehead. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve misunderstood me. It’s not a—”
Davis reached toward nothing in particular in the center of the table. Who would even notice? Without warning, he turned toward Maggie, his arm deliberately bumping his full glass of iced tea in her direction. Like the waters of the River Kent in flood, the amber liquid gushed across the linen tablecloth, spilling over the edge onto Maggie’s jeans. It happened so fast there was no way Maggie could have avoided the soaking.
Davis sprang to his feet. “Maggie, I— How clumsy of me. Please forgive me.”
Reginald hurried to offer Maggie a napkin, and then another, to mop her jeans with. Moving their plates toward the table’s center, he lifted the soggy linen and pushed it back so it could no longer drip onto Maggie and the floor.
“Please, Davis. There’s nothing to apologize for. Accidents happen. Thankfully I packed an overnight bag as you suggested, so I do have spare clothing.”
Davis ventured a glance in Father’s direction, and his raised brows at Maggie’s mention of an overnight stay.
It’s not what you think.
“I suggested to Maggie that she stay the night in one of the guest rooms. I don’t want her driving an hour back to Keswick after the ball. It’s not good for a woman to be alone on the roads late at night.”
Right, Father’s look suggested.
I have changed. Don’t you know that by now? It’s been three years. Three celibate years—just me, my Bible, my God, and my poetry. Davis pushed down his feelings of ire.
“I’m sorry to have disrupted lunch. Let me show you to your room, Maggie, where you can clean up and change.” He turned to Reginald. “Please have Jeeves bring Miss Blume’s bag up to her room from her car.”
And then I need to get Father alone. There are some things I need to discuss with him. Now.
*
“Father. Wait.” Davis hurried down the passage toward his parents as they were leaving the solarium. “May I have a word with you? In private, please.”
Father paused. “Anita, dear, go on ahead to the rose garden with your basket, gloves and sheers. We can cut a few blooms for the foyer. They’ll make a great addition to the décor for tonight. I’ll be there shortly.” He turned to Davis. “This won’t take long, will it?”
“It shouldn’t. Depends on you, though.”
Concern crinkled his mother’s brow as her gaze flitted between the two men. “Now boys, whatever is going on between you two, please work it out amicably. We’ve already lost one son in this family for God alone knows what reason. I’ll not lose another.”
“Through no fault of anyone, Mother, other than Paxton’s own selfishness. He wanted his inheritance, do life on his own, without a care as to how that decision would affect this family.” How it would hurt his own father and mother. Davis’s fists curled at his sides. The one thing that had his blood boiling during the past year was his brother’s insensitivity to anyone’s feelings but his own. “Not even a postcard, or easier, a message from his cellphone that would take mere seconds to send. In a year.” Davis had caught sight of him only once in all this time. On some socialite’s Instagram. He was in Venice, living the high life. But that was months ago. For all he knew, Paxton had fallen out of that gondola in a drunken or drugged state, and drowned.
“Davis. That’s enough. Let’s talk in the library.” Father tipped his head toward the tall wooden doors on the other side of the foyer.
Davis glanced at his mother. Moisture filled her eyes.
“I’m sorry for your pain. And I’m sorry, too, for all the heartache I’ve caused you.” Pivoting, he followed Father across the tiles and into the room paneled with mahogany and books from the floor to the edge of the double-volume ceiling. He breathed in deep of the mustiness of leather, wood, and paper. How he loved this room with its ambiance of knowledge and power. But he loved it more because it was here that he’d discovered a quiet place to find his soul, and God, again. Thanks to Reginald.
“Well, Davis, you have the floor. What’s this all about?”
Swallowing hard, Davis opened his mouth. Then closed it again. This was madness. Father would never agree, even though the stone was his to do with as he pleased.
Father cleared his throat. “Come on, son. I don’t have all day. Your mother’s waiting.”
Davis glanced over to the two armchairs standing in front of the tall windows. The reading corner, and his place of solace. There he’d find the strength he needed to do this.
“Let’s sit down, Father.” He led the way and sank into the chair on the left, his favorite, and closed his eyes briefly. Abba, help me do what I feel I need to. Raising his gaze he looked beyond the glass to the world outside. Maggie, sporting a fresh set of clothing, skirted the edge of the gardens as she wandered along a pathway. She stopped at a bloom to examine it. He’d better make this quick, before she got to the roses. This was his only shot. There wouldn’t be another chance. After tonight, it would be too late.
Breathing deep, he turned to Father. “I’d like your permission not to give the ring I’d commissioned to Mother.”
Father’s brow crinkled. “Why?”
“You and I both know tha
t another ring will not put the smile back into Mother’s eyes. Only your wayward son, my brother, can do that.” He focused on Maggie down below, drawing strength from the mere sight of her.
Father followed his gaze. “Oh, I see.” A smile eased the frown away. “She is a beauty. I can’t say I blame you for falling for the jeweler.”
“Beauty is only skin deep. With Maggie— She’s more than beautiful. Her soul, it’s pure. I’ve not met anyone quite like her. With your permission, I’d like to retain the ring, give it to her one day when the time is right. It would mean the world to me. I think I’m falling in love with her. I know you may not believe it—”
Leaning over, Father placed a hand on Davis’s shoulder. “Son, I don’t always show it, but I have seen the changes in you over the months. You’re not the same man you were three years ago.” He smacked his knees and pushed to his feet. “It’s your inheritance stone, so I can’t very well stop you, even if I wanted to. Besides, you deserve to be happy, and I’d like to see how you handle a marriage of your own choosing. Lord knows you never wanted the first one. No wonder it hadn’t worked out. Your Mother and I should never have forced you into it. That won’t happen again, I promise.”
Turning to leave, Father stopped and glanced back as Davis continued to stare at him. It had been that easy?
“Don’t let this one get away, Davis.”
“I won’t.”
Davis relaxed into the armchair as the library door clicked closed. Shoving his hand into his jacket pocket, he clasped the loose ring between his fingers. He removed the ring and the box from his pocket and placed them on the table in front of him. He opened the box then pushed the ring back into its velvet bed where it was safe until the time was right to offer it to Magnolia Blume.
Soon, Maggie. Soon.
*
He’d fallen for this girl. Hard and fast. Davis was certain she had feelings for him, too. Despite his desire to run to her, go down on one knee, and put that ring back where it belonged, he reined himself in. Hands in pockets, he strode across the manicured lawn to where Maggie crouched beside a lavender bush, the box clasped in his fingers a reminder of his mission. It wouldn’t do to scare her off, though. He had to wait. At least a little while.
Maggie glanced over her shoulder and stood as he approached, plucking a lavender bloom as she did. She brought it to her nose and closed her eyes, smiling as she savored the aroma. “I hope you don’t mind. These are my favorite flowers.”
Mind? He’d pluck bushels for her every morning now that he knew.
“Not at all. Take as much as you like. In fact, I’ll get Reginald to arrange that a vase full is placed in your room.” Davis cast an appreciative eye over her new attire, the black and red plaid far more bold than the pale pink jersey she’d worn earlier. He never could quite figure if that length was a long shirt, or a short dress. Whatever, the hugging waistline and flared skirt suited her. Beneath the dress shirt, black leggings accentuated her slender legs far more than her jeans had, while matching low-heeled ankle boots covered her feet.
He touched the plaid bow tied high in her waist, pushing away the thought of running his fingers down the gold buttons that held the outfit together. “Nice change. I’m glad I bumped my drink over. Not that you didn’t look absolutely gorgeous before.”
Maggie smiled. “I didn’t exactly have a choice on what to wear. This was the only spare outfit I packed, except my ball gown, of course.”
A chuckle slid from Davis’s mouth. “That definitely wouldn’t do, but you are dressed perfectly for an afternoon ride.”
“We’re going riding?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought—”
“You do ride, don’t you?” Presumptuous of him to assume she did. She wasn’t one of his socialite fillies that had graduated from wooden ponies to real ones before they could barely walk.
“A little. But please, no driveway Derbies.” She caught her laugh with the back of her hand. “I’m not that experienced a rider. I’d get by though on the kind of jaunt we had earlier. That’s more my style.”
Mine, too. A slow, lengthy ride. Just what he had in mind. Time to get to know her better.
“I can certainly do that.” Davis held out his hand. “Are you ready?”
Magnolia slipped her arm into his. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. How’s that thumb by the way?” She reached for his hand, checking on the swelling.
“I’ll survive.”
When they got to the stables, Excalibur and Aphrodite were saddled and waiting. Davis helped Maggie up onto her mount. The mare’s long black mane, tail, snout, and legs contrasted against her dapple gray pelt. The color and texture gave her hide a pearlescent look. Aphrodite was a beauty—the perfect creature for the perfect woman.
Davis double-checked the saddle, ensuring it had been tightened properly, and then he adjusted the stirrups to her length. Once satisfied she’d be safe, he mounted Excalibur.
Maggie was quiet as the horses headed out of Levens Hall’s gates and crossed the A6 into Levens Park. There should be ample time for a leisurely ride down the mile-long oak tree avenue trailing the River Kent.
Gazing ahead, Maggie gasped, breaking her silence. “This park is so beautiful.”
“It is. I’ve penned some of my best poetry out here under these trees.” Overshare. But if he wanted her to get to know him fast, he might as well jump in at the deep end.
She spun her head in his direction. “You write poetry?”
“Surprised?”
“Yes. I didn’t figure you for someone who’d like poetry, let alone write it.”
“Really? What else didn’t you figure me for?”
“Believing in God. Believing in family. I’m beginning to think I might’ve misjudged you, Davis.”
“Don’t worry, it happens all the time.”
Maggie returned her stare straight ahead, mimicking her ride, something clearly on her mind. She opened her mouth. Then shut it again.
“Are you all right?”
Nodding, she turned her gaze to the trees, away from him and took an audible breath. “When will your fiancée arrive?”
“My fiancée?”
“Yes, the woman you’re getting engaged to this evening. The ring, remember? ‘Garden of Love’…”
She thinks I’m getting engaged tonight. Why would she think that? And could it be that she’s jealous? What a misunderstanding, but perhaps there was a way to work this in his favor.
“She’ll be along later.”
“Oh.” Maggie’s voice was barely a whisper. Another weighted breath ensued. Another hesitation. “What’s she like?”
Davis feigned thought for a moment before answering. “She is worth far more than rubies.”
“Proverbs thirty-one. That’s a beautiful description.” Maggie glanced at Davis.
He kept his eyes firmly fixed on her. He wasn’t missing any of this.
“She’s a lucky lady. I didn’t really think so a few days ago, but you’re actually a nice guy.”
“Thanks. I guess.” Davis grinned.
A laugh slipped from Maggie’s mouth. Then another, until her laughter, combined with Davis’s, echoed through the trees.
She finally caught her breath. “I’m sorry. That was meant to be a compliment.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Have you asked her yet?”
Davis shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”
“And you’re proposing tonight in front of a myriad of guests?”
“I guess so.”
“That’s a bold move. You must be very certain of her love for you.”
“Uh, not that certain at all. Do you think I’m crazy to do it?”
“You’re a poet. Could anyone expect anything less of you?”
“If this were your proposal, how would you feel?”
“To have my man declare his love so publically? What girl wouldn’t love that?” Maggie turned to the trees again. When she loo
ked back at Davis, she’d found her smile, even though it looked like someone had pasted it on her face. “And what girl wouldn’t love that ring on her finger? Or you by her side?”
“Well, I did have the best jeweler around. Would you like her number?”
“Ha, I don’t think I could afford her. But I tell you what, when I find my Prince Charming, you can give your jeweler’s number to him. Deal?”
“Absolutely.”
Maggie sighed. “I guess tonight will tell how great your jeweler is.”
“I guess so.” Davis relaxed back into the saddle. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been during their conversation. Or was it excitement that had him holding tighter to the reins and sitting higher in the saddle than was necessary?
Tonight will be something special indeed, with Mother’s oblivion to the ring, Father’s blessing to a proposal, and insight into Maggie’s dreams.
Chapter Five
The full-length mirror told Maggie she looked more than good enough to belong here, though her mind whispered an entirely different story. Perhaps she should slip out now while the bustle of arriving guests went on downstairs. Nobody would notice her disappearing out the back door, jumping into her car, and taking a slow, tearful drive back home. Or to Poppy. She’d always been a good shoulder to cry on. And she was the closest one.
How would she get through the night watching Davis with his worth-more-than-rubies wonder-woman? She dealt in precious stones and knew the worth of those blood-red gems.
The tall crystal vases on either side of the dresser, stuffed to capacity with freshly picked lavender, demanded her attention once more. He’d arranged that for her?
She stooped closer to one bunch and breathed deeply. Perhaps it would soothe her anxiety, and her confusion.
What was with Davis spending the entire afternoon with her, and being so annoyingly charming when in a few hours he’d be proposing to someone else? And where had this woman been all afternoon? Why hadn’t she been there with them to keep her man in check, and save Maggie from losing her heart to someone she couldn’t have?
Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances Page 50