Garden Princess Read Online Free PDF

hurt him to suffer now, thought Adela, but I’ll have to sneak him away from her at the party. I’m a poor friend if I can’t do that much.
    She ate a chicken leg and wiped her fingers. Then she ate two cucumber sandwiches, sipped her lemonade, and thought about gardens.
    “It’s the knack for planning that makes the gardener,” Garth’s father had once told her. “You and my son both know what to do when it comes to the care and nurturing of flowers, Your Highness. I’ve taught you when to plant, when to prune, and so on. But I’ll be the first to admit that Garth hasn’t got an eye like you have — an eye that can see what you want before it all comes into bloom.” It was a bit of praise that had made Adela’s heart swell with happiness. She did love to plan a garden, and Hortensia’s was sure to be a marvel of planning. She must have a great variety of fall-blooming flowers, thought Adela. And I can ask her what bulbs she’s planted for the spring.
    At that moment her ears picked up the sound of Marguerite’s honey-sweet voice. “Do you really mean to say that some flowers — what did you call them,
pennials
? — come up year after year, all by themselves?”
    “Perennials,”
said Garth, “and yes, they do.”
    “How marvelous!” exclaimed Marguerite. “And
daisies,
are those
pentennerals
?”
    “Well, now, some are and some aren’t.”
    “I suppose I could be a
pentenneral,
seeing as I am a kind of daisy.”
    “Yes, Daisy — I mean, my lady.”
    Marguerite dimpled. “I like it when you call me Daisy. You must always call me that.”
    Clearly embarrassed, Garth ducked his head. But he looked up quickly enough, a stupid grin on his face. “All right, then . . . Daisy.”
    Adela frowned. Was it possible that Garth actually
liked
Marguerite? She watched his eyes follow the movement of Marguerite’s hand as it fluttered up to tuck a curl back in place, brushed against the diamond necklace at her throat, then dropped to her waist, where it paused to smooth the fabric of her dress. Then Garth looked up, and his eyes met Marguerite’s. They smiled at each other, and Adela felt as if she were spying.
    He
does
like her, she thought. Or anyway, he likes to look at her.
    Marguerite had wavy golden hair, blue eyes, and petal-pink cheeks. She was more than pretty; she was as lovely as sunlight. “I should love to plant a garden someday,” she said.
    Adela couldn’t imagine anything more unlikely than Marguerite with a shovel in her hand.
    “I could help you,” said Garth.
    “Oh, would you?”
    I don’t know why Marguerite looks so surprised, thought Adela. It’s exactly what she wanted him to say.
    “Do you know . . . ?” Marguerite’s voice became tentative. “I — I was hoping that today you might walk with me at the party. I was hoping you might talk to me about gardening. You know so much, and I know so little!”
    “Of course I will.”
    So much for wanting to protect Garth from Marguerite, thought Adela. He’s practically throwing himself at her! Not that I care, she told herself quickly. It isn’t as if he promised to look at Hortensia’s garden with me.
    But there was the rub: she did care.
    It wasn’t as if she had ever wanted Garth to look at her the way he was looking at Marguerite. But she
had
counted on his friendship. And it did seem unfair that someone as empty-headed as Marguerite could take it away so easily.
    Stop it, Adela told herself. Garth is still your friend. And Marguerite
is
pretty. I suppose he can’t help being attracted to her, any more than she can help being attracted to him. They do look nice together.
    Now she sounded like Cecile, who was always saying things like,
Don’t they make a handsome couple?
And,
Surely she can do better than that. He’s not half as good-looking as she is!
As if people should be matched up by their looks, like the horses that pulled the royal carriage.
    I would rather find somebody who’s interesting than somebody who’s