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seemed to shake off the bemusement that had held her mute. “The fresh air will do me good.”
    As the young couple hurried away, Rebecca rose to follow at a discreet distance, as she had so often during their brief courtship. Only this time, rather than tagging along on her own as a grudgingly tolerated chaperone, she was escorted by Lord Benedict. The viscount diverted her with stories about Stanhope Court and his ancestors whose portraits thronged its walls.
    Once outside, Rebecca was immediately enchanted with the gardens, beginning with the one behind the house. It nestled between the east and west wings of Stanhope Court like a beloved child cradled in the arms of a caring parent. The colors of the flowers stood out in vivid contrast against the background of greenery.
    Next Lord Benedict led her down a brickwork path that wound through a succession of vine-covered trellises to a smaller terrace garden cut into the side of the hill. Surrounded by box hedge walls, it had the air of a secret room decorated in shades of pink and gold. Rebecca wished she could linger in it, but since Hermione and Mr. Stanhope had already moved on, they followed.
    When she entered the final garden, Rebecca let out a gasp of wonder mingled with a sigh of delight. This tiny hillside bower was not planted with bright-colored flowers to draw the eye. Instead it was edged with greenery and contained only a few pale but fragrant blossoms. At its heart, a small stone fountain splashed and tinkled a soothing liquid melody. The focus of this garden was not upon itself, but outward at the breathtaking view of the Vale of Avoncross.
    “How lovely!” cried Hermione. “I could stand here all day and never grow tired of such a view.”
    As Hermione extolled the panorama before them, Rebecca could not help wishing her young friend would now hold her tongue for a few minutes. This glorious prospect deserved to be savored, with only the gentle babble of the fountain and the subtle fragrance of flowers to enhance the experience.
    Despite Hermione’s vow that she could stand and stare all day, it was not long before her interest waned and she and Mr. Stanhope wandered back up the path. Or perhaps she wanted to escape the brooding presence of Lord Benedict.
    Rebecca’s reaction was quite the opposite. She welcomed the opportunity to enjoy such a rich feast for the senses in his company.
    Eventually, however, duty won out over inclination. “I suppose we ought to rejoin the others.”
    “In a moment.” The viscount turned toward her with agaze as blue and breathtaking as the wide Cotswold sky. “First I have something particular to ask you.”
    Something particular? That usually implied a delicate matter, often romantic in nature. Surely Lord Benedict could not intend to declare some feelings for her…could he? After all, they’d just met the other day and theirs would be a far more unequal match than his brother’s, to which he objected so strongly.
    Though Rebecca reminded herself of those things, her heart began to beat far too fast, and her voice caught in her tightened throat when she replied, “By all means, your lordship. I am at your service.”
    She deliberately tried to emphasize with her words the vast gulf between her position and his.
    But the viscount refused to take heed. “I do not mean to issue orders or condescend to you, Miss Beaton. I respect you too much for that. In many important ways, I believe we are very much equal. Our great concern for those we care about, for instance.”
    As Lord Benedict spoke, his deep voice grew softer and mellower in timbre. It might have coaxed a sigh from Rebecca, if she had not been on her guard to avoid any such slip.
    “Since I wish to address you as an equal in that regard,” he continued, “please feel free to call me by my given name—Sebastian.”
    His suggestion eroded Rebecca’s resolve to keep her hopes in check. She wasn’t certain she could bring herself to speak his first name