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intake of air. “Your father is blind? When did this happen?”
    “His vision began deteriorating several years ago. It wasn’t until this last year that it left him completely.”
    Bloody hell. What was one supposed to say to such a thing? Finn cleared his throat. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s little wonder he didn’t escort you here.”
    She lifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “I can’t blame him. He is comfortable in our home, where he knows where every piece of furniture is, and he knows no one will be watching with pity if he stumbles.” She looked up at him, this time with a genuine smile. “But he is as clever and smart as ever. He may not be able to read or write on his own any more, but he still maintains a rather lively correspondence with many of his fellow plant lovers. And as a respected horticulturist, he regularly receives letters from people all over the British Isles, seeking his advice.”
    The pride in her voice was unmistakable, and he smiled approvingly. “That’s remarkable. I admire a man who does not crumple in the face of adversity. Many a man has given up under must less trying circumstances.” That was something Finn knew from firsthand experience. His father’s decline before his death had been tragic, but only because he more or less gave up on life. Apparently, he hadn’t cared that his unresolved troubles would soon fall squarely on Finn’s shoulders.
    “He couldn’t have given up if he wanted to. Not only would I not have allowed it, but he’s terrified of our housekeeper, Mrs. Kelly. Heaven help the soul that messes with her schedules.”
    Finn chuckled. “I can sympathize. Mrs. Hollingsworth runs my home with the efficiency of an Army general. I wouldn’t dare cross her.”
    “Well, after doing without me for a week, I’m sure Papa is anxious to have me back. Besides the fact that he’ll be eager to tackle his correspondence once I’m home, I’m certain he’ll be keen to be free of Mrs. Kelly’s tyranny.”
    “Does his man not see to his correspondence while you’re away?”
    “Well, technically
I
am his man.”
    He didn’t know why it surprised him, but it did. “
You
are his secretary?” He couldn’t picture her stuffed away in an office, taking diction and dutifully reading aloud letters on soil chemistry and proper fertilization. How many women would willingly dedicate so much of themselves to making another’s life better?
    Her gaze snapped back at him, her brow slightly wrinkled. “I am perfectly capable of handling my father’s correspondence.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you—”
    “And without the ability to see a secretary’s work for himself, one can little blame him for entrusting the task to his own daughter. I, at least, have his best interests at heart.”
    “Of course you do. I was merely—”
    “Going to say that my faculties are ill-equipped to handle such intellectual matters? I was raised at my father’s knee in the conservatory, Lord Edgerton, and—”
    “Cece!” That at least got her attention. For God’s sake, she’d have him painted the devil before he could get a word in edgewise. “If you’d let me finish my sentence, I was merely going to point out that I’m sure you have many interests which hold your attention, and it is admirable that you make yourself available to your father in such a manner. I was attempting to compliment you.”
    She blinked. “Oh.”
    “Yes, oh.” He sighed and extended his elbow. “Let us take a proper turn about the room. If we are to talk in circles, we might as well walk in them, too.”
    Smiling ruefully, she nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “I think perhaps it’s best that you tell me something about you. I don’t think I can get myself in trouble that way.”
    “Hmm, let me see.” He focused on the soggy grounds beyond the fogged windows, trying to think of something interesting about himself. “Did you know that I spoke German?”
    She