However, it was not only the weather that had Caroline smiling. The fact of the matter was that she had never seen Oliver so filled with joy, even before the passing of his father. For the first time in his short life, the boy romped and played like so many other boys his age.
Whether or not it was the case for all boys bound for dukedom to have them kept wrapped in cotton wool, she did not know, but she had seen many a boy from the small village from whence she came gallivanting around in the fields behind the cottage her parents owned. She had forgotten about the happiness of children, or what should have been as such. Until now. And that smile her son wore today could only be attributed to one man. Philip Butler.
Philip was a quiet man, reserved, at least with Caroline. She was able to see snippets of who the man truly was by observing his interactions with Oliver, for he was much more animated, more playful, than he was in her company.
The fact he did not share this inner person with her did not perturb her—everyone was allowed his or her secrets—but somehow, she wished he would show such openness with her. When he shared even the smallest of details with her, the act made her feel special in some way, as if he had given her a gift of some sort.
She flicked out the blanket and set it on the ground beneath a large oak tree where she could be well-shaded and watch Oliver. Once everything was set up just as she wanted, she sat down, spread out her skirts around her, and regarded the two by the pool. Philip was instructing the boy on how to hold his wooden rod, flicking it back and forth and then having Oliver imitate. Philip was patient answering every question Oliver asked without flying into a fury as the boy’s father might have done.
Reaching into the basket, she removed a bottle of wine and poured herself a small amount in one of the glasses the cook had included, relishing the moment. Reginald never would have come out with them; he never had time for either them, not to do something as frivolous as picnicking and fishing. He never spoke words of affection to his son, only commands, and here was this man, a gardener by trade, treating Oliver as his own son.
A thought crossed her mind, and she allowed her imagination to take her to a place where Philip was her husband and a father to Oliver. He was handsome, especially so, and his heart was gentle. Yet, she could sense a strong man buried inside, a man who would protect rather than hurt her.
Each day as Oliver finished his studies, Philip would greet him, praise him for his hard work. Together, as a family, they would dine, and after Oliver was sent off to bed, Philip would wrap his arms around her. As he would hold her tightly, he would lean down and press his lips to hers. Any cares she might have, he would ease with his lips and his heart. And for the first time in her life, she would feel the love of a man.
A loud laugh brought her back to the present, and she shook her head to clear it of such ridiculous thoughts. Love was a foreign concept to her, one she would not recognize if it fell into her lap. How, then, would she imagine herself being inflicted with such an ailment?
Therefore, she turned her thoughts to the man himself and she found herself wondering if he had ever been in love before. Was it even appropriate to ask such a question of the man she had asked to be her protector?
“The boy is a fast learner,” Philip said as he came to tower over her. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Caroline laughed. “Of course not,” she replied. “Please, have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?”
He took a moment to answer before nodding. “Yes, that would be nice.”
She poured for him and then handed him the glass.
“You seemed lost in thought,” he said after thanking her for the wine.
She nodded and worried her lower lip as she watched Oliver standing like a soldier at attention at the edge of the dock. “Only the thoughts of a woman, so you would find it quite silly.”
He laughed. “There are women who are foolish, I would agree, though I can promise you that you are not one of them.”
Her cheeks burned and she took another sip of her wine to cool herself. “That is kind of you to say,” she said when she was able to speak again. “I often think of my marriage to the Duke and how it was not for love. To be honest, I wonder what love is like.”
He said nothing as he studied his wine, and she realized that she had become much too personal with this man, more than likely causing him embarrassment.
“My apologies. Please realize that I have no friends, no family other than Oliver. Reginald forbade me from seeing anyone outside of the home. In the beginning, some of my old friends came to call, but they rarely returned. The only interaction I have with people besides my servants is when we have a party, and that certainly is no place to be with friends close enough in which to confide.”
“Never apologize to me, Caroline,” he said quietly, “for you have done no wrong. As to your question, love is something one must experience to understand it.”
She nodded as she watched a bird settle onto a branch above them. “That raven is a sign of love. That is what it is.”
Philip looked up. “I do not understand. A raven is love? I thought love was restricted to doves.”
Caroline laughed. “Not at all. Allow me to explain.”
“Please do, for I am confused.”
“You see, there is a story I heard once about a man called the Duke of Ravens. Are you familiar with it?”
He shook his head.
“Well, many years ago, when I was a child, a man’s wife and daughter were kidnapped. Sadly, those who took them killed them once they received the ransom. The Duke sought after those who took the people he loved and tracked down every single one of them. They say the love he had for his family was so strong, the ravens of the sky followed him overhead throughout the forest, calling down to him as they led him to where the kidnappers hid. With their powers, he was able to avenge their deaths, thus solidifying the love he had for his wife.” She let out a sigh and finished the remaining wine in her glass. “Love so strong that even the animals helped him seek his revenge.”
“Quite the story,” Philip said with a chuckle. “Have you met this man?”
“No. From what I have heard, he returned to his estate and has never left again. To this day, he remains there, heartbroken and alone, with only the ravens to visit him and console him. It is beautiful, do you not believe so?”
Philip handed the glass to her and stood. “It is a lovely tale; although, I must admit it does sound a bit farfetched. Perhaps it is the meaning of the story that keeps the story alive rather than it being truth, much like tales of fairies and giants.” With that, he walked away.
Caroline was unsure what to think of his assessment of a story she held dear to her. Although the man might have been right that it was just a folktale meant to encourage, she still found it beautiful. Furthermore, it gave her hope that such men existed, that not all men were driven by greed or lust but rather by love.
Guilt plagued her for the thoughts of Philip she had experienced, so she poured herself another glass of wine and opened her book to lose herself into a realm of make-believe.
***
“I must say, Your Grace, your gown is beautiful.” Margaret, Caroline’s lady’s maid, was the only thing besides Oliver that Reginald had unwittingly gotten right. If he ever learned how complimentary the woman was, he would have seen her replaced as soon as possible by another less agreeable servant, or so thought Caroline.
“Thank you,” Caroline said, giving the woman a smile. “It is one of the new ones I ordered last month.”
The woman took a pin and added to her coiffure. “Well, it is very becoming on you, if I may say so.”
Caroline blushed. Accepting compliments had never been easy, but after what she had endured the past five years made doing so that much more difficult.
“Will you be having a guest tonight?” Margaret asked. The older woman was keen to nose about in other’s business, and Caroline found it endearing. She was not loose of tongue like most w
omen, therefore making speaking with her much easier.
“Philip will be dining with us,” she replied. “Oliver has taken a liking to him.”
Margaret set another pin. “He’s a nice man, and if I were ten years younger, I believe I’d never stop seeking his attentions.” Then she gasped. “I’m sorry for speaking that way! I don’t know what came over me.”
Caroline laughed. “You are fine. He is a handsome man; I have taken notice of that.”
“Oh, my, yes. Handsome he is for sure.”
“I also find I enjoy his company, but I fear he finds me quite boring.”
Margaret clicked her tongue. “Nonsense. I don’t believe it. No one would be able to find you boring.”
“I have tried to induce conversation with him during the various activities we have done together—not to win his affections, of course.”
“Of course,” Margaret echoed, although she did not seem convinced.
“I would simply like him to reveal more about himself. He is a quiet man.”
“That he is,” Margaret agreed. “Some men can’t seem to refrain from talking too much and others are brooders. He’s somewhere in between, from what I’ve gathered. He seems to choose his words wisely.” She set the last pin and took a step back to assess her handiwork. “There. What do you think?”
Caroline turned this way and that as she checked her reflection in the mirror. “Yes, your work is perfect, as usual.” She turned to face her maid. “Margaret, if you were to want to learn more about a man, what would you do to get him to open up more?”
The woman sighed. “I don’t rightly know,” she said. Then she shrugged. “I suppose loads of drink would loosen a stiff tongue.”
Caroline gasped. “I cannot do that!”
“He’s your protector, isn’t he?”
Caroline nodded.
“Then he has to travel wherever you go, am I right?”
With another nod, Caroline replied, “You are.”
“Then I suggest you go on holiday.”
“Holiday,” Caroline mumbled. “Yes, that is a good idea.”
“To be honest, Your Grace, you haven’t really left this estate in years. It would do you good to get out to see and experience new things.”
Caroline pondered the woman’s words. She had estates all over the country, most she had never visited. It was true that she had been cooped up in the house since Reginald’s passing, and even before that, she had only been allowed to leave when he escorted her to a party or dinner. Time away would be good for her and Oliver. Plus, it would give her time with Philip, away from prying eyes.
“Thank you, Margaret,” she said, placing a hand on the woman’s hand. “I will ask him tonight if he will accompany me.” She quickly added, “as my protector, of course.”
“Of course,” Margaret replied, though her smile never faltered.
Chapter Eight
A fortnight later, Caroline found herself sitting on a grassy hill overlooking the ocean, a sight she had never seen before. Above her, the sky was a deep blue, and below her, white crests topped the waves.
She had arrived in Cornwall the day before, tired from the long journey and yet still excited to experience something new. Oliver was napping, Miss Lindston watching over him, and Philip was beside her, watching over Caroline.
“Is there anything in particular that you would like to do while we are here?” he asked. His voice had a formal tone to it, but they had been inside the carriage for so long, she could imagine that he had developed a habit of formality with her.
“The ocean,” she said, “This is my first experience with it. Might we go closer?”
“Of course,” he replied. He stood and then offered his hand, which she took without hesitation.
She slipped her arm in his, and they made their way down the hill.
“I thought the boy would be too excited to sleep,” Philip said.
“As did I. Although, I must admit, I find I am quite tired myself; I am just too stubborn to allow sleep to win.” This brought on a shared laughter that made Caroline feel warm inside.
They came to a path that led down to a sandy beach, and Caroline smiled at the other couples, who, like she and Philip, walked together arm in arm.
Yet, she did not feel a sense of satisfaction at the thought. “We are not a couple,” she whispered to herself as a reminder of where they stood.
Philip glanced down at her. “Did you say something?”
“No,” she said much too quickly. “Well, I mean, yes. I was just reciting a line of poetry.” A strange twinge of guilt came to her; however, to tell this man the truth of what she had said could not happen, so she resigned herself to the lie.
The sand beneath her slippered feet crumbled as they continued their trek forward, and they finally came to a stop.
“It is truly magnificent,” she said. “In all my life, I never thought I would be blessed enough to see the ocean, and yet, here I am.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the salty scent in the air and the cool breeze that touched her skin.
“Now that you are here, then, that dream is realized,” Philip said.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “True. However, I still have many more dreams. Will they be fulfilled, as well, my wise friend?”
“I believe they will.”
They remained quiet for a short time, and Caroline found that just watching the waves brought about a sense of peace, as did the man beside her. His presence alone made her feel safe, and she was glad he was there with her.
“I told you before that I do not have any friends,” she said as she turned her gaze out to the ocean waves once again. “And although you are my protector and I am your employer, I do consider you a friend.”
Philip remained quiet, and she worried she had offended him in some way. It was strange, but she found his silence disappointing.
When he did speak, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “Once you are set into your new life, you will have new friends, far better friends than your gardener. I will not be around forever.”
His words crushed her heart, and she wondered why she found them so cruel. “So, you plan on leaving me one day?” she asked, attempting to mask the hurt in her voice but knowing she failed.
“It is inevitable.” He turned to look down at her once again. “However, it will not be because it is something I want.”
She found his words evasive. “Then why would you leave?
He sighed. “Because life gives us unexpected turns. What we believe will happen tomorrow might not. One day, you will meet a man who will capture your heart. Your attention will turn to him, as it should. When that happens, my presence will no longer be needed, nor will it be appropriate.”
Without explanation, anger rose in Caroline. “I will decide what is appropriate,” she snapped. “Not my gardener or any other man for that matter.” As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them. How could she snap at this man who had treated her with such respect and care? He was not Reginald, and he never would be. “Philip, I did not mean what I just said.”
The wind blew the hair from his face as he gazed down at her. “You are only speaking the truth; your decisions are yours alone to make.”
“It is not that,” she said. “I have come to find my strength in you. Your wisdom has saved me numerous times already, and the thought of you not being there bothers me.”
He turned his attention back to the ocean, but his words were kind and soothing as he said, “Wisdom can be learned, strength cannot. You have both, though you do not yet realize it. You will, however, and I will be here to help where I can.”
Her anger subsided and now confidence replaced it. No man had ever spoken such words to her nor made her feel so capable. And as they both watched the waves roll before them, she found that she liked his words more than ever.
***
The following days were busy with purchases of new dresses for Caroline, a new wardrobe
for Oliver—the boy was growing out of everything he owned so quickly, she could barely keep up!—and, although he kept refusing, several new coats and breeches for Philip. The seamstress had been adamant that the clothing for Caroline would be ready by tomorrow morning, although the time was short, and the tailor had also worked diligently to have the clothing for Oliver and Philip ready to be delivered the same day—all so they could begin the long journey home.
Caroline would have preferred to remain in Cornwall; the peacefulness of the oceanside and lack of responsibilities was what she had needed. However, life could not be ignored, not if she wished to have an estate left for her son to run when he became of age.
Sporting a new hat on his head, Oliver walked beside his governess, as proud as a peacock. Caroline had never seen him in such a state; yet, he wore the first hat he had a hand in choosing. Granted, it was beyond his years in style, but he had been quite proud of choosing something that matched a choice Philip had made.
Caroline sneaked a glance at Philip through her lashes, who strolled beside her. He was the same stoic man he always was, and he seemed to take his position as protector very seriously as his eyes roved around as if in search of assassins. Despite that stoicism, he was a handsome man. Yet, he still had shared nothing of his life with her. Who was he really? He did the work of a servant but spoke like nobility; that was not something one would expect of a servant. His mannerisms also belied his station. What secrets did this man hold?
“You realize that your hat does not hide your glances toward me, do you not?” Philip said with a chuckle.
Caroline sniffed, although, inside she held mirth. “Do not assume I was looking at you,” she said with a jut to her chin, “for I was not.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, and she could not hold in her laughter any longer. “Oh, very well! I was looking at you. However, it is not what you believe.”
His eyebrow raised further. “And what do I believe?”
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