I wondered if you take such exquisite care of all the people you love.
“Exotic pineapples,” Oliver said, without taking his attention off the road.
Pineapples? Dinah’s brows drew together. She’d never tasted a pineapple herself, but she knew they were meant to be sweet and delicious. As far as she knew, Penelope wasn’t particularly fond of the fruit, but ladies did sometimes experience the strangest cravings when they were with child. “Has she developed a taste for pineapples?”
Oliver lips curved in a brief smile. “This one isn’t for eating. Well, not at once, anyway. It’s for planting.”
Ah, that made more sense. Penelope had a passion for plants and flowers. For as long as Dinah had known her, Penelope had spoken wistfully about how lovely it would be to have a garden. Cliff’s Edge had extensive grounds, and sometimes Dinah teased Penelope she’d married Lord Archer for his gardens alone.
“You can’t grow proper pineapples in England,” Oliver was saying. “It’s too wet and cold, but there’s an earl in Sittingbourne, a Lord Horace, who grows his own in his greenhouses. Penelope can grow them herself if she has a pineapple to start. You simply cut the top off the fruit, soak it in water for a time, then plant it.”
“But where will she plant it? You just said England is too cold to grow pineapples.”
“It is, but I happen to know Will’s Christmas gift to Penelope is a greenhouse. It’s ridiculously large—a monstrosity, really—but you know how Will is.” Oliver chuckled. “Nothing is too good for his wife. You mustn’t tell Penelope, though. It’s a surprise.”
“No, I won’t. How did you come to find out about Lord Horace’s pineapples?” Dinah’s voice was faint, because she was speaking around a lump in her throat. She’d known Penelope for much longer than Oliver had, but even she couldn’t think of anything her friend would love more than Oliver’s gift. He just seemed to know, instinctively, how to bring joy to those he loved.
Oliver shrugged. “I asked around a bit, and soon enough someone pointed me to Lord Horace. You can find anything in England if you’re willing to search it out. Indeed, it was much easier to get Lord Horace’s name than it was to secure an appointment with him. It took weeks to get him to agree to meet with me.”
Penelope swallowed. “Oh?”
“Yes. He’s a bit of a recluse, and protective of his plants. I sent him half a dozen letters before he agreed to see me, and even then, I had to promise Penelope would take exquisite care of his pineapples.”
Weeks of planning, a half-dozen letters…this wasn’t simply a whim of Oliver’s. He’d put a great deal of thought into Penelope’s gift, and in the space of one day, Dinah had spoiled it for him. “If you miss your appointment with Lord Horace, he’s isn’t likely to grant you another, is he?”
If Oliver had been waiting to take her to task for upsetting his plans, this would be the moment to do so, but not a word of recrimination passed his lips. He only shrugged. “No.”
Dinah said nothing, but she was busily adding up miles and hours in her head. Sittingbourne was south of Rochester, nearly a fifty miles ride from Canvey Island. It would take them all night too get there, but what was a single night when weighed against exotic pineapples?
“Let’s go.” Dinah lay her hand on Oliver’s arm. “To Sittingbourne. Let’s go and fetch Penelope’s pineapples.”
Oliver stared at her for a moment, then his lips curved in a wide, breath-stealing, heart-stopping smile. “Are you sure?”
Dinah paused to take in his distracting dimples before she raised her gaze to his warm blue eyes. “I’m sure.”
And she was. She’d never been surer of anything in her life.
CHAPTER 9
SITTINGBOURNE, ENGLAND, DECEMBER 29TH
It was a pity Shakespeare wasn’t still alive to pen the tale of Oliver’s courtship, because it would have made a wonderful play. It had been a comedy of errors from the start, and now it looked as if the final act would be as farcical as the first two.
Without the joyous wedding, that is.
Their journey to Cliff’s Edge was nearly over, and all he had to show for this courtship so far was a pocketful of dark blue sapphires to match the eyes of the lady who’d refused to become his wife.
Perhaps it wasn’t a comedy, after all. Perhaps it had been destined to be a tragedy from the start, and the only one who hadn’t realized it was him.
“Is this Lord Horace’s property?” Dinah asked, trying to hide the chattering of her teeth.
“Yes, since the turn half a mile back.” Despite Oliver’s entreaties, Dinah had remained beside him on the box for the entire journey, even when it dragged on into the early morning hours. Bad roads, uncertain weather, and the occasional equine rebellion had complicated the drive.
There wasn’t enough time for Oliver to take Dinah to an inn. Lord Horace’s estate, while it was in Sittingbourne was so remote as to be an hour’s drive from the town proper, and Lord Horace, who wasn’t a gentleman who troubled himself much about fashionable calling hours had set an early morning appointment.
So, Oliver had a half-frozen, bedraggled lady on his hands, and not the faintest idea what to do with her.
He should have put her back inside the coach hours ago, despite her protests. Her cloak was damp through, and she was shivering in her wet boots. A more generous man—a gentleman—would have taken better care of her, but Oliver hadn’t been able to bring himself to part with her. He was greedy when it came to Dinah Bishop—greedy for her conversation, her smile, her laugh—even her scowls and scolds.
Weren’t all gentlemen in love the same?
“I don’t suppose we can arrive at Lord Horace’s door looking like this.” Dinah waved a hand at her crumpled skirts, then turned to take in Oliver’s appearance. “I believe your hat is ruined, my lord.”
“My hat, my coat, my breeches, and very likely my boots,” Oliver agreed. “William’s pup is the only one of the three of us who’s presentable. I’d send him in to fetch Penelope’s pineapple if I wasn’t certain he’d chew it to bits.”
Dinah tried to tuck a few straggling dark locks of her hair under her hat, but soon gave it up with a sigh. “Perhaps I’ll wait in the coach.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t fancy the idea of greeting Lord Horace looking like a half-drowned street urchin any more than she did, but Dinah couldn’t remain in the coach. She needed a comfortable seat beside a roaring fire and a nip or two of brandy, followed by a pot of hot tea. “No, I can’t allow you to…”
His voice trailed off as he caught a glimpse of a building through the thick rows of trees lining the drive. He slowed the coach as they drew closer. The building was long and narrow, with a peaked roof and tall, arched windows arranged neatly across the south facing wall. The few beams of moonlight peeking through the clouds gleamed dully on pale, gray stone.
They were some distance from the main estate, and it was too big to be a folly. It looked like…yes, it was.
One of Lord Horace’s famed greenhouses.