He looked up as Kate entered the room, placing the bowl of roses on the small table at her elbow. She saw amusement in the faded eyes and cursed the freckles that had appeared around her nose at the first touch of sun. Her hair fell in an ungovernable tangle from beneath her cap. She was certain that she must look like a common kitchen maid, not a proper wife of this man's grandson.His hand, long-fingered and almost skeletal, reached out to touch the blooms with a reverence that surprised her."I've been watching you at work, Katherine. I fear the garden is something of a lost cause,” he said."I don't like to be idle,” she said and pushed back a stray lock of hair to cover her embarrassment.Sir Francis nodded. “I approve. There is no room on this earth for idle people. It was one of the finest gardens in the county before several troops of Parliament horse trampled it in ‘45 looking for my scapegrace grandson. They cut down most of the orchard too.” His thin lips compressed. “Since then I've had not the time or the money to rectify the damage.”
