Free Adrienne Basso by The Ultimate Lover

being at the center of the latest trends. These structures are quickly becoming all the rage and are being erected with seeming random abandon about the landscapes of many grand houses. One can hardly visit a country home without eventually tripping over one.”
    “That should not be a problem in this case,” Amelia commented. She tilted her head and gazed about. “I doubt many guests can even find the folly.”
    The verbalization of that simple truth seemed to charge the atmosphere with an electric current, as it emphasized how completely alone they were. The rising blush of color in Amelia’s cheeks let Gareth know she felt it too.
    If it were any other woman he would have moved closer, by instinct or habit. But there was something unique and special about the countess that Gareth did not want clouded by a sexual dalliance. Besides, there was Emma to be pursued and presently she required every ounce of his attention.
    “At least the cottage is picturesque,” the viscount interjected hastily. “The rumor persists that the Earl of Dunmore is constructing a gigantic pineapple building at Dunmore Park.”
    “A pineapple! Good heavens.” She let out a shaky laugh. “Well, that only confirms my original impressions of the earl. Though I have encountered him only intermittently over the years, I never thought him to be a man who possessed an excess of good taste.”
    “Shall we go inside?” He opened the door before she could answer.
    Amelia obediently stepped forward. Gareth had to duck his head to avoid hitting the cross-beam, but once inside he could stand upright without difficulty.
    “This is utterly charming,” Amelia declared.
    The viscount agreed. Though the outside of the building was simple and quaint in design, the inside boasted elaborate, decorative refinements. There were elegant wooden chairs with detailed tapestry cushions, a cozy settee in a pale green velvet that matched the thick carpet covering most of the wooden floor, a bookcase filled with titles, a chess table with ivory carved pieces arranged and ready to play.
    The windows were simply adorned with dark green silk curtains, pulled back to emphasize the tranquil view of the lake and artfully arranged gardens surrounding it.
    “The flowers in the vases are fresh. This folly must be well used,” Gareth commented.
    “It seems almost like a place from a fairy tale,” Amelia said. She trailed her finger along the edge of a polished table as she walked to the windows. “ ’Tis very much like I imagine the French queen’s hamlet near Trianon. I read that Marie-Antoinette selected the site of the lakeside village at Versaille herself and often enjoyed playing at being a shepherdess.”
    “And they say the English aristocracy is odd.” Gareth moved to stand behind her. “Trianon is pretty, but I think the duke’s cottage has more appeal, more ambiance.”
    Her head whirled around. “You have seen it? The one in France?”
    Gareth nodded. “My grand tour included not only Italy and Greece, but France. Have you ever traveled abroad?”
    She pulled a face. “No, though I always longed to make the journey. My late husband saw no merit in anyone or anything that was not English. Except for fine French brandy.”
    He looked at her, deeply thoughtful. “Will you marry again?”
    “God no!” Her face paled. “My brother-in-law, Roger, has other ideas, but I shall not heed them. I am entitled to live at Dower House on the family estate and once the repairs are completed will happily take up residence. It will provide me with the peace and independence I have earned.”
    He sensed there was more to the story than she was reluctant to reveal, but would not press her.
    “What of you, Gareth. Will you marry soon?”
    His jaw dropped. “Marry?” he repeated in a bemused tone. “I had not thought . . . what I mean to say, is that there is no expectation—” He paused, took a deep breath, and marshaled his thoughts. “I am a second son. There