Free Follow the Heart by Kaye Dacus

he’d perched. “Tell Sir Anthony? But I have no firm figures or estimates. Without knowing the laws—or even who owns the land between Wakesdown and the rail line, or the railway’s laws concerning spurs—I don’t know if it can be done.”
    Andrew tucked the papers and maps in his canvas bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. “I know. But I believe Sir Anthony would be pleased to entertain the idea, even if it turns out to be impossible.” He raised his brows. “So will you come?”
    Dearing grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go.”
    Andrew buttoned his coat and tugged his gloves on, then led the way back through the field, which would become a hedge maze in a few months, toward the manor.
    Approaching the house, Andrew hesitated.
    “What’s the matter?” Dearing stopped.
    How honest could he be with a relation—and guest—of the people in the big house? Andrew decided to take a risk on the friendship Dearing seemed eager to offer. “I have entered Wakesdown through the front door only once—six months ago, when I first came to be interviewed by Sir Anthony. And then I was allowed to enter that way only because Mr. Paxton was with me.”
    “They make you use the servants’ entrance?” A hint of scorn laced Christopher’s voice. Andrew wasn’t certain if it was meant for him or for the Buchanans.
    He shrugged. “It is appropriate. I am neither family nor guest. I am a hireling, of no higher stature than any other person in Sir Anthony Buchanan’s employ. Lower than many, in point of fact.”
    “I find that hard to believe.”
    Andrew tried to find an example Dearing would understand. “The housekeeper must run the entire household staff—dozens of maids and men—as well as manage the household finances. Surely she is of much higher importance than a man who, a scant two years ago, was nothing more than an undergardener at Chatsworth when Mr. Paxton made me his apprentice.”
    He shifted the strap of his bag to a more secure position on his shoulder. Someone who grew up with wealth and privileges could never understand.
    Dearing swept the vista of the enormous Georgian facade of the east wing of the manor with a frank, appraising gaze. He looked back at Andrew. “Well, as I am nothing more than a poor relation without employment, I should not be eligible to enter the door trod by you and the housekeeper. But I shall take it as a reminder to pursue my quest for employment with all due passion so I may be worthy to count myself as one of your peers.” He swept into a deep, groveling bow.
    At first Andrew was affronted, believing himself mocked. But when Dearing rose, grinning, Andrew’s ire eased and he found the humor in Dearing’s words.
    Andrew led him down the path leading to the lowest level of the house—one not visible from the front—and in through the gate leading to the kitchen courtyard.
    Yes, even if the spur rail line turned out to be impossible, the discussion of it would allow him to spend time with another man of passion for building and innovation. Dare he think of Christopher Dearing as an equal—as a friend?

    Christopher hadn’t been this nervous since his final examinations at Yale. He followed Andrew from the kitchens and into the main part of the house, wishing he’d never stepped into the building at the end of the rows of greenhouses. As much as he longed to make friends here, the thought of telling his uncle about his crazy, ill-conceived idea made him wish he’d avoided the landscape architect.
    Sir Anthony answered Andrew’s knock with a booming, “Enter.”
    Andrew turned and gave Christopher a tight smile before opening the heavy door into the study. Unlike the bright library at the front of the manor, where Christopher had spent most of the past few days, the study was dark—walls lined with mahogany paneling and shelves holding hundreds of books, with only two windows on either side of the massive, heavy desk at which Sir Anthony sat.
    He