Page 4 of A Secret In The Garden

His lips twitched slightly in a mocking manner, but the movement was so subtle, it might have been a trick of the light. “I’m not sure I’d call it busy,” he said. “Though you should know I don’t typically take appointments. I’m not a salon, Miss…?” His sharp words hung in the air like a challenge.

“Eliza.” I felt my face pull into a scowl and I attempted to readjust, hoping to appear more friendly. I’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear to get the botanical gardens this money. “Eliza Arnold, I’m from the Pinehurst Botanical Gardens, about a two-hour drive.”

“I know where Pinehurst Botanical Gardens is. You people have already come here about the conservatory, and I’ve already told you no. To be quite frank, Miss Arnold, I only took this meeting as a favor to my head butler, who has been nagging me incessantly about the state of the conservatory for years.” He glanced at his watch, some shiny black, expensive-looking thing, and returned his slightly annoyed gaze back upon me, obviously expecting his rude sentence to push me back out the door.

Joke was on him. I was an overthinking, awkward woman; this wasn’t even the most uncomfortable conversation I’d had this week. If he truly wanted to belittle me and break me down into tiny, minced pieces, he should take a lesson from my mother. I pushed the conversation I’d had with her as far from my mind as possible. I needed to remain put-together and strong.

“Well, sir, I’m not here to waste your time,” I said, setting my bag on the floor next to me and pulling out the folder containing my proposal for the conservatory’s restoration. As I stretched my arm out and leaned toward him, I struggled not to shake, almost worried he would lash out at me. “You are going to donate $250,000 to the Pinehurst Botanical Gardens and you are going to let us fix up your conservatory. You’ve had a rather high earning year, and as an intelligent businessman, I know that you are looking to offset your taxable income. A donation of that size would also serve well as environmental philanthropic branding geared toward your community, something that I’m certain will interest you after Blackwood Industries’ former issues.” I placed the folder carefully on the desk between us, watching as his eyes eventually flicked down to it after remaining on me for a surprised second.

There was no sign of interest on his face. He didn’t even move to open it. Instead, he folded his hands in front of him and leaned back in his red leather chair. “It’s a shame you drove all the way here when I could have easily told you no over the phone.” His dark eyes lit with the same look a cat gets as it toys with a newly discovered mouse.

Fuck.

Our eyes held in silence for a moment. It felt like we were playing some sort of game, challenging each other, and we both knew it even though it was painted with common formalities. I bet no one ever pushed back against the spoiled brat. Unfortunately, I was quite possibly the worst person to do that. I had taken great pains in my twenty-five years to become malleable and quiet.

I stiffened and forced myself to remain composed. “The conservatory is in disrepair, Mr. Blackwood,” I began, my voice firm. “I’m a botanist. I have a team of skilled restoration specialists who could bring it back to its former glory—bring the plants back to life, give it purpose again. It could become a valuable asset, not just for you, but also for the entire community. If you allow us to have any duplicates, it and the publicity the botanical gardens would receive could be enough to keep us open, while a donation would ensure we remain open and able to sing your praises.” The words sounded rehearsed because they were, though the irritated glint in my eye seemed to be what he was paying attention to. As practiced as I was, I still found myself incapable of hiding all my annoyance about the fact that I was having to quite literally beg this man for money.

He watched me without speaking, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, I wondered if he was still bothering to listen.

“You seem abnormally passionate about this.” His voice was barely a whisper, but there was a dangerous, amused edge to it. He was toying with me.

“I’m passionate about keeping a roof over my head,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. A light pulse of anger unfurled from my stomach, surprising me. I never reacted. Never. “And the conservatory…it was your mother’s pride and joy from what I’m told. I understand why you’d want to protect it. But surely you must see that it’s beyond repair without specialized help. And I’m here to offer that help.”

His eyes flicked down to the folder again, still not reaching for it. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his dark brown, almost black eyes studying me as though I were some curious specimen. “You’re begging me for money and to fix something that’s been left to rot for years?” he asked, his voice as cool and detached as ever. “Let me assure you, I don’t care about my environmental impact, the community…or your roofing. There are already far too many people here with an addition to the manor being constructed. You should leave before the sun goes down.”

With every cocky word he spoke, I could feel an unfamiliar irritation rising, but I bit it back. This wasn’t just about me and my future, my freedom; it was about the botanical garden and the horticultural society—and not letting some arrogant prick off the hook.

“I will gladly accept a donation on its own; however, regarding the abandoned conservatory, I don’t see it as rotting, Mr. Blackwood,” I said evenly. “I see it as an opportunity—a chance to restore something beautiful. I understand your feelings about it, but I don’t think your mother would have wanted it to decay. She would have wanted it to be cared for. My team would be happy to take care of the entirety of it for you, with the agreement that if any rare specimens are found, we would propagate them, leaving the original in its place. It could be incredibly beneficial to both you and Pinehurst.” I fired my last shot. “I believe it’s what your mother would have wanted.”

Jasper’s expression remained unchanged as he glanced toward the smoking copper bowl on his desk. “You don’t know anything, especially about what my mother would have wanted.” His words were biting.

I felt the sting of them, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I held his gaze steadily. It wasn’t hard—something about him irritated me so much, I almost hoped he’d keep saying no just so I wouldn’t have to look at him for another second. If I had to bring my team here, I’d have to see his stupid, smug face all the time.

“No,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “I don’t. But I know what I can offer. And I think that’s what matters.”

Jasper’s lips twisted into a faint smirk, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something—humor? Contempt? I couldn’t tell. “You think your team at the botanical gardens can fix this place, put a nice bow on it and brush away all the demons?” His voice was low, a barely restrained growl. “You don’t understand anything about Blackwood Manor, Miss Arnold.”

“I understand more than you think,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “I understand that the conservatory has potential. And I understand that the Blackwood legacy doesn’t have to be one of isolation and neglect. You don’t have to carry the burden of this grand manor alone.”

For a moment, his gaze softened a fraction, but it was gone in an instant and again I wondered if I’d imagined any human qualities to him. His face hardened again. “We can add my burdens and the Blackwood legacy to the list of things you don’t know,” he said, his voice barely above a laughing whisper.

I opened my mouth to reply, but he raised a hand, silencing me—old habits die hard—and I flinched.

“I’m afraid I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help,” he said, his voice suddenly quieter, almost like a confession. He reached into his pants pocket and removed a wad of folded bills. He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from the top layer and tossed it on the desk near me. “Take your proposal and leave.”

My heart hammered in my chest, the anger rising within me. I stood up slowly, my movements deliberate. There was a weird challenge that hung between us, and I found myself unable to leave without a victory. “I need this job, Mr. Blackwood. I can handle any challenge you put forward. Name it and it’s done…please.”

Chapter 5

Jasper

I had been expecting her. My butler, Sowerby, told me he had accepted her appointment and encouraged me to agree. The botanical gardens had been hounding me for years about that damn conservatory, and now here the woman was in the flesh. I admit that her approach was different than the others. None of them had bothered to bring family sincerity into the negotiations. She thought she could walk in, fix my mother’s dead and decaying monument, and somehow save the day. And she had a look in her eyes—the same look I saw in everyone who dared to step foot on my property: the belief that they could somehow change things.

They didn’t know a damn thing about my family or what this place had taken from me. The conservatory was a relic—a shrine to my mother’s obsession with plants, something that had outlived her and now served only as a painful reminder of everything I didn’t want to remember. The last thing in the world I wanted was to bring life to it.

Something in her eyes pressed into me like a bayonet, sharp and uncomfortable. There was something familiar within the looks of despair she tried to mask.

“Mr. Blackwood,” she said, her voice steady with a touch of steel to it, “I’m desperate.”