Free Follow the Heart by Kaye Dacus Page A

looked up, his creased forehead easing as he smiled at them. “Andrew, Christopher. Do come in.” He motioned them to two of the four club chairs flanking the crackling fireplace.
    While Sir Anthony had seemed affable in all of their interactions so far, now that Christopher faced him in his capacity of landlord and potential patron—and Andrew’s employer—his uncle looked severe and imposing.
    Andrew launched into his explanation of the changes marked on the plans for the new hothouse, then for the gardens and plantings.
    “Which is why I asked Mr. Dearing to come with me.” Andrew straightened from leaning over the maps spread on Sir Anthony’s desk.
    The baronet looked at Christopher with undisguised curiosity.
    Christopher cleared his throat. “It was merely an idea—a fancy, really—and may not be feasible.”
    “Do not apologize for wild dreams, Christopher. How many advances would have been lost if the inventors had been afraid of expressing their fancies?”
    While Christopher didn’t believe he was an innovator, he appreciated his uncle’s attitude. He took a deep breath and pictured himself back in the head gardener’s lodge. He explained spur lines and showed Sir Anthony three likely places—relatively flat and close to the main line into Oxford—where a Wakesdown spur could possibly be built.
    Sir Anthony was silent for a long moment after Christopher finished, tracing the routes Christopher had detailed with his finger.
    Finally, the baronet straightened. “I understand your concerns as to why this might not be possible. But I want you to work on this. I will inform my steward you are to have whatever resources required to get the land surveyed or to acquire information or permits or anything else you need.”
    He turned and perched on the edge of his desk. “Andrew, do you return to London soon?”
    “Within the next few weeks, to order and gather materials for the gardens.”
    “I would like Christopher to travel with you—to meet Mr. Paxton and his colleagues. We must do all we can to assist this young man in establishing himself here, since he was pulled away from what I am certain would have been a stellar career in America.”
    Heat crawled up Christopher’s throat to his face. “Thank you, Uncle.”
    Sir Anthony smiled and rounded his desk to sit in the well-worn leather chair behind it. “And should this venture not come to fruition, I am certain that the contacts you make through Joseph Paxton, as well as others you will come into contact with in the course of your research, will be beneficial in securing you employment that suits your social standing.”
    Christopher started to frown, but quickly hid it. Something that suited his social standing? What exactly did that mean? Something suited for a poor relation here only to sponge off wealthy relatives until they were able to get rid of him by forcing him into a somewhat respectable job, of which they would not have to speak or think?
    Sir Anthony continued. “We must be discerning and ensure you take a position only if it is suitable for a member of the Buchanan family. For though you bear a different surname, I will never forget that your mother was my dear sister, even if our father did sever all ties with her when she married. Did you know, Christopher, that Louisa and I shared a nursery and then a governess until my twelfth year? She was only a year younger than I, and she was my dearest and closest friend. But when she met Graham Dearing, there was no reasoning with her. Our father tried every argument he could think of. But Louisa was in love.”
    Christopher perched on the high arm of one of the chairs flanking the fireplace. “Had you no other siblings?”
    Sir Anthony tapped his steepled fingers against his chin, his eyes glazed over with memories. “None. Our mother died when we were quite young, and our father’s second and third wives gave him no children.” His gaze snapped up to Christopher as if in sudden