our love blooms (like flowers in the spring)

morning mist and grass

"Pardon me for any inconvenience I may have caused." With that, Jack watches as the gardener flees the scene.

"He is a good man, my Lord." The governess, Mrs. Hanson, comments.

"I have never seen him before." Jack turns to her. "I am sure you understand my reluctance when hearing his version. He was a man, coming out of the maids' quarters." He explains his point of view.

"My lord, worry not. Would a bad man smell of jasmines?" She humours him.

Jack smiles softly at her words. "I believe not, Mrs. Hanson." He sighs. "I believe not."

"Your father adored his father, my lord."

He furrows his eyebrows. "How long has his family been working here? If there was a child here, I would know."

She looks at him with a certain hint of amusement. The Viscount does not know of Zach's past. "A long time, my Lord. His family has served yours with the highest of honours."

Jack nods slowly, taking in her words. "I see I should be aware of the staff." He smiles. "I shall pay more attention to you all."

"Take care of your beloved family first, my lord. It is who you should serve after God... and an eventual wife."

"My sisters are all blooming into beautiful women. I must care for them before I care for myself."

"What about you, my lord? You are deserving of love, as well." She pinches her eyebrows together, seemingly concerned for him.

Jack nods his head. "Allow me to find a proper suitor for Ava first. I still have a few years before Isla is introduced to society."

"My lord, I do not, nor can I give you permission." The woman chuckles. "I merely serve you with diligence and sensibility."

"Thank you."

"It is my duty, my lord." She bows. "Shall I make you some tea, my lord?"

"No, thank you. I am going to work in my office. I have to get our accounts in order."

"I shall withdraw to my quarters. Good night, my lord." She bows once more.

"Good night, Mrs. Hanson." He makes his way to his office.

He sets the candle holder on his desk and lights a few more candles. He opens the family's checking accounts and sets it down. They were well off. They do not owe any money to the modiste, much less anyone else. It is something Jack prides himself in. He can walk around with his head held high, knowing he does not owe money to anyone.

Jack sighs. Everything was in order. He must occupy himself with something else, then. He looks around in his office.

The dark wood of the furniture made the room seem dim. There are plenty of books on the shelves, as well as condecorations from the time both he and his father served in the military.

However, there were a few books missing. Ava must have taken them. He shakes his head as he smiles. "That girl..." Jack mumbles.

He stands up and grabs a bottle of whiskey. If all accounts are in check, then he can pour himself a drink. So he does. He takes a sip and feels the burn down his throat as he swallows the whiskey. He groans and pours himself another cup.

His mind wanders to the gardener. He was handsome. He seemed tan, too. It must be from all the hours he spends in the sun, he thinks. Jack takes another sip and closes his eyes. He can vividly see the gardener.

How his features seemed so soft under the warm light of the candle. How his shirt slid down his shoulder, and it exposed his prominent clavicle. How his voice was quiet yet sweet. It entered his ear, and it made itself comfortable in his head. Like a warm blanket over his shoulders on a winter morning.

Jack pours himself another cup and drinks from it. Perhaps he should visit the gardens during the day.

***

Breakfast is calm, and Jack appreciates the quietness of it. He eats until he is satisfied. Only when he was about to stand up does his mother speak.

"Jack, dearest." She starts. "We have been invited to a ball. It is at Lord Falmouth's residency."

"When is it?"

"A week from now." Ava answers. "May we go? I would love to attend my first ball as a woman."

Jack smiles softly. "Of course." He looks at his mother.

"We shall go to the modiste today to get a dress for us."

"Of course." He allows them. "Do not forget to tell me how much it is. We need to have our accounts in order." He reminds her.

Jack finally stands up. "Excuse me." With that, he goes outside into his garden.

The air smells of morning mist and grass with an underlying scent of wildflowers. How pleasant. I should do this more often, he thinks. Jack walks around the garden seemingly aimlessly. He inhales the pleasant smell—it is addicting.

He hears some humming—Beethoven's first symphony. It could not be Ava nor Isla as the voice singing was deep. Was it one of the servants? He follows the sound. Jack starts hearing some snipping on tempo, too.

His curiosity gets the best of him, and he peeks through a bush. The humming and the snipping belonged to the gardener.

He was wearing a shirt similar to the one he was wearing the night before. Jack sees the sweat dripping down his neck. How long has he been working for?

Jack watches as the man looks around and takes off his shirt. His back muscles tense, and relax with his movements.

His eyes could not move away from the manner and precision he worked with. His skin shone prettily when being hit with sunlight.Completely dazed by the way his arm muscles behave themselves, Jack nearly failed to recall who he was.

He somehow managed to break out of his reverie and forced himself to walk out. His mind and heart raced like they had never raced before. He furrows his eyebrows as he tries to come up with a good enough reason for his heart to be racing.

Jack shakes his head as he walks back inside. Perhaps the thoughts will not invade him when he is inside.

"My lord," a maid calls his attention, "a letter arrived for you." She holds up a plate with a letter on it.

Jack thanks her and takes it. He rushes into his office to read it.

Dear Jack,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Word has been going around that Ava's introduction to society went exceptionally well.
Thank you for assuring things go well for Ava. We both know how she can be sometimes—unruly, masculine.

I am writing you to inform you that I will be returning home in a week's time. Things at the manor are yet to be fully sorted out.

Tell your mother to prepare for my return.

Baron Darrin Stanford of Hawke

Jack scoffs. He shakes his head and rips the letter apart. His peace shall end in a week's time then. So be it.

Baron Stanford is Jack's stepfather. His mother remarried around four years ago. Not that Jack was against it. He merely preferred anyone but the baron.

Having lost his father at the young age of seventeen, Jack took over the estate and the weight of his title quite early on. His mother was busy raising Isla, the last child, that she could barely take notice of Baron Stanford's awful personality. She merely wanted to remarry as the thought of her girls and son growing up without a father was trencherous.

So she married. Now she can not leave said matrimony. She has seen his true personality. Everyone has. It seems he has hidden his true intentions until the honeymoon.

The man seriously has no decorum, much fewer manners at the table. He eats with his mouth open and yells at the servants. He constantly invades his office and makes it his personal study. He goes to Jack's quarters and then plays dumb, saying he forgot he was not the Lord of the house.

Jack despises him.