Page 49 of Holly & Folly

“Quite the contrary.”

She glanced at him, and their eyes met briefly as she waited for him to expound.

He did not.

A gust of wind came through, and Nell secured her bonnet with a hand. The little flurries had become larger, and the wind had picked up without her even noticing. A quick look around told her that some of the others had decided to abandon the garden.

“What is a winter garden without a bit of winter weather?” Lord Dalmeer held his hat in place and blinked against the snow.

“Just so,” Nell said loudly, but the wind was louder. It blew at her skirts and nipped at her face, coming from one direction, then the other, as though it could not decide which way to blow.

Another gust yanked at her bonnet, and she only just prevented it from flying away.

Lord Dalmeer set a hand on it as well, laughing. “Perhaps we should take refuge somewhere. Here—come this way.”

The last guests were on their way through the ivy archway, and Nell and the earl hurried after them.

The swirling snow made it difficult to keep her eyes open, and even more so to see anything beyond fifteen feet ahead.

Lord Dalmeer took her hand, and Nell kept her other atop her bonnet, letting him lead the way. They made their way through the gusty wind and snow, finally reaching a door.

The earl let her pass through first, and Nell hurried in, blinking the snowflakes from her lashes and releasing her bonnet.

She looked around at the verdant space. It was warm—warmer than any of the rooms—and bursting with plants of all sorts: fig trees, citrus trees, jasmine, heliotrope, and ferns.

It was a conservatory. Nell had not even known such a room existed at Bellthorne.

Of course it did. Bellthorne had a room for every occasion. Even one to ensure Nell knew she was not welcome.

“You shan’t need your coat,” Lord Dalmeer said after removing his own. He set it and his hat on the stone wall lining the pathways that wound through the conservatory.

Nell unbuttoned her coat and allowed him to help her out of it, then set her fingers to untie her bonnet ribbons as he laid her coat atop his.

“My lord,” she said, her fingers fumbling, “did you tie my bonnet ribbons as though they were a cravat?”

He turned toward her, and his mouth broke into a half-smile. “Did I make a muddle of it?”

“Oh, I am certain they are tied very fashionably, but I am accustomed to a simple bow rather than…whatever this is.”

He stood in front of her and took the ribbons. “I call it the Dalmeer Contortion. I would not attempt it if I were you. Nearly impossible to replicate.” His brow knit as he worked at the ribbons, his focus entirely on the puzzle.

She watched him, and her chest flooded with warmth. How was it that she felt she knew him so well after such a short time? “May I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He frowned more deeply at the knot.

She paused long enough that his gaze flicked up.

“What did you mean by what you said in the garden, about our being alike?”

His fingers slowed momentarily, then continued their work. “You still think we are unalike?”

“No. That is, yes. By most accounts, we are. I am a woman who, if she had not ruined her own reputation, would be entirely unexceptional and boring. You are an earl with a great deal of…”

“Money?”

She laughed. “I was going to say charm, but your suggestion serves just as well to make the point.”

“Very well,” he replied, finally finding success with the ribbons. “We are different, then.”