“It’s not my fault the fence doesn’t hold.”
Actually, it was, but I wasn’t getting involved in this argument. Not again. Last time, she’d ignored me for a week for pointing out that she was legally required to keep the goats secure.
“It is, and you know it is,” Daddy replied. “Why don’t you ask Miles to reinforce it?”
“That whippersnapper? What does he know about gardens?”
He cast his gaze toward Arthur. “Thank you, Arthur. I won’t subject you my sister’s ramblings any longer this morning. Will you prepare my office for my meeting this morning?”
With the assurance he would, Arthur bowed once again and silently disappeared.
“A lot. He’s an extremely qualified gardener, and exceptionally talented. You know he worked at Kew Gardens for five years.”
“He’s also about ten.”
“Thirty,” I muttered.
“What?” Aunt Cat looked at me, eyes sparkling.
I was pretty sure she knew I had the hots for the gardener. “He’s thirty,” I replied.
Daddy frowned. “How do you know that?”
Here we go. “Well, see, there’s this thing that human beings do when more than one are gathered together. It’s called talk.”
“Hardy-har-har. Very funny.”
“You asked.”
He cradled his cup of tea. “What are you doing today?”
I shrugged. “I was going to eat breakfast, but Aunt Cat put that idea to bed with her gruesome gossip.”
She raised her teacup to me. “You are welcome.”
“I wasn’t thanking you,” I pointed out. “Otherwise, I don’t have plans. The weather is nice so I might go out and wander about the garden for a while.”
“How was the dinner party last night?” Daddy asked.
That was what he said.
It wasn’t what he wanted to know.
He wanted to know if any of the single, eligible men that had been there had caught my eye.
“Terribly boring,” I replied without batting an eyelid. “Helena’s cousin only spoke about his ex-girlfriend who apparently traded down even though she’s now engaged to an Italian billionaire. Louis Fitzgerald kept holding conversations with my breasts, and Howard Billings wouldn’t stop discussing his new business deal which apparently will net him seven figures and he wanted us all to remember that. All very brash and inappropriate.”
Daddy shook his head. “Where have all the gentlemen gone?”
“They started watching porn,” Aunt Cat said, flipping the page of her newspaper. “And forgot that women only want a freak between the sheets. They want a gentleman on the streets.”
He blinked at her as I fought back a laugh. I mean, she wasn’t wrong, was she?
“Speaking of brash and inappropriate,” he said slowly before turning his attention back to me. “I’m going to Windsor this afternoon to help with preparations for the state banquet in two weeks. I’ll be meeting with the Duke of Westminster and—”
“Nope.”
“Gabriella, you—”
“I’m twenty-seven, not seventy-seven,” I reminded him. “I know you want me to meet someone and get married, but I don’t want to right now.”
“All the eligible young men that are suitable for you will be taken soon,” he said with a pointed look.
“I didn’t realise I was living in Tudor England.” I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I went out with Steven in college, and it didn’t work out. I can’t imagine it would be any different now.”
“Well, you have an outstanding invitation to the state banquet, and he will be there. It won’t hurt you to attend and mingle, even if you aren’t interested in Steven.” Daddy finished his tea and set the cup next to the sink. “Think about it.”
He left the kitchen on that note. Aunt Cat flipped the page of her paper once more, and I sighed, dropping my head so I was looking at the floor.
“I assume you still haven’t told him you’ve signed up for that horticultural course,” she said without looking up.
“No, I haven’t.”
“You know you’re going to have to tell him. There are only so many times you’ll get away with it before he realises you’re going to the local college. Especially when the course brings you to our own gardens for education.”
I swallowed. I knew she was right. I was keeping two huge secrets from my father—and one even from her—and I was going to have to come clean. “He’s not going to be happy about it. You know as well as I do that he’s stuck in the stone age.”
“He’s traditional.” Aunt Cat finally put down her paper and peered at me over the top of her glasses. “He just wants you to be looked after, Gabi, and in his mind that means you marrying well.”
“I wish he’d realise I can look after myself. Besides, it’s not like I’ll inherit absolutely nothing.”
“No,” she admitted. “Just as me and Elizabeth didn’t when your grandfather died. Of course, Elizabeth had already married into another aristocratic family, but like this estate went to your father, it will go to your brother. The rules are archaic and ridiculous if you ask me, but it’s how things are done.”