Secret Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page A

own that she hoped didn’t declare
too openly the adoration she felt for him. “I’d be happy to, Mr.
Partington. Your uncle allowed me quite a free hand in the gardens.
I hope you will approve.”
           In
truth, about the only skill Claire prided herself on, besides housekeeping,
was horticulture. The gardens at Partington Place were famous in the
small town of Pyrite Springs. Even people from as far away as Sacramento
sometimes visited the grounds during Partington Place’s Spring Open
House or on the fourth of July, when Gordon hosted an annual party for
the public. Claire wasn’t sure she dared hope Tom would continue some
of the traditions she’d come to cherish at Partington Place.
           They
walked outside as soon as they’d finished breakfast, Tom graciously
allowing Claire to lead the way through the solarium, across the marbled
terrace, down the stairs, and into the small rose garden. Her heart
was thundering like cannon fire by this time. She prayed he’d like
what she’d done here.
           The
small rose garden led, by way of a perfectly cunning rose arbor, to
more extensive gardens. Here Claire had overseen that various beds were
stocked year-round with annuals and perennials so that the grounds seldom
looked completely bare. Now, in the dead of winter, of course, the roses
no longer bloomed, and there were no gay blossoms or sweet fragrances
to caress the senses. The wisteria trellis seemed blank and cold to
her, and she frowned at it critically. Even without the roses and wisteria
blooming, however, green abounded and one could appreciate the beauty
of the grounds.
           At
least Claire could. She hoped to heaven Mr. Tom Partington would be
able to share her enthusiasm. Peering at him from the corner of her
eye, she thought she detected an expression of approval, and contained
her sigh of relief with difficulty.
           She
led him under the rose arbor’s arches, bare now except for canes which
would, in April and May, come alive with cascades of sweet-smelling
blossoms, and into the flower beds. She wished it were April and the
daphne in bloom so he could smell the enchanting hedge lining the flower
beds. It wasn’t April, though, and she held her breath and clamped
her hands together in front of her.
           “The
gardeners have already planted ranunculus and anemone bulbs, and the
tulips, hyacinths and daffodils come up year after year. In early spring
they’ll begin to bloom, and it will be quite colorful out here, and
very fragrant.”
           Looking
around, Tom’s eyes sparkled with pleasure. “This is wonderful, Miss
Montague. I’ll bet the place is spectacular when everything’s blooming.”
           “Indeed,
it is, Mr. Partington,” Claire said in a rush. “Why I—I believe
the gardens of Partington Place are truly inspirational. At least, I
did my very best to make them so.” She ducked her head, embarrassed
at having said something so clearly bespeaking conceit in her own accomplishments.
           Tom
didn’t seem to mind. His expression held respect—even deference—when
he turned to look at her. “You are truly a woman of many talents,
Miss Montague. My uncle was very, very fortunate to have found you.”
           Claire
whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Partington.” It was difficult for her
to speak past the lump which had suddenly grown in her throat. How kind
he was, to say such a thing after her lapse this morning.
           All
at once the solarium door opened and boots clicked on the marble. Claire
viewed Jedediah Silver with pleasure. A young man, Jedediah was inclined
to be overly serious. Yet he possessed a sense of fun that surfaced
every now and then. Claire had a feeling the young accountant had raised
himself up by dint of his own hard work from rather meager beginnings.
He never spoke of it and she never asked. She herself came from a