Marquess Blackwood stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the morning sunlight glinting off his silver waistcoat.
His brow furrowed as he surveyed the half-finished structure that dominated the gardens of his ancestral ho.
The young man by his side had assembled the best architects and craftsn in the land for a project that would, if successful, transform not just a garden, but his entire family’s standing in the world.
A status symbol was what the marquess requested.
"If I understand this correctly," Marquess Blackwood began, skepticism still carved in his voice, "this glass structure will maintain a tropical environnt in the dead of our northern winter?"
"Yes, My Lord," Lucian replied with a respectful bow of his head.
He had traded his simple traveling clothes for a more fitting attire of black trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a tailored waistcoat of deep green that matched the leaves of the plants he so cherished.
"Pineapples and oranges will grow here?" the Marquess asked again, like he did not believe Lucian the first ti.
"They will, My Lord. You’ll be the first in the kingdom to have a year-round supply of citrus fruits in your own ho. Not to ntion the spectacle it will provide when hosting guests. Imagine a winter ball held among flowering orchids and palm trees."
The Marquess’ gaze softened slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward at the thought. Such a display would be unrivaled. It would be the talk of the aristocracy for seasons.
His marquessate was located in a colder region of the Diamante Kingdom, aning that the cost of building it would be higher. The structure had to withstand heavy snowfall and harsh winds, requiring thicker glass and a more robust iron frawork than in other regions.
But the Marquess was prepared to pay. He had three daughters to marry off and a son to position as a worthy heir. There was also a possibility of being a candidate for the Duke of the North.
This crystal palace would be his weapon in the social battlefield. It wouldn’t be just a display of wealth and power. Its very operation could bring prosperity to his people.
"I have heard whispers from the south," the Marquess said, turning to face Lucian fully. "That you’ve built... two of these structures already?"
"Yes, my lord," Lucian confird, not a hint of arrogance in his tone. "One for Earl Laurent from the West Hills and another for a wealthy rchant guild leader in the capital. Each was fitted to their specific requirent."
"How long until the dukes and royal family start demanding your services?" the Marquess mused aloud, "A man of your talent could beco very valuable, very quickly."
Lucian kept his expression carefully neutral. "I am rely a landscape contractor, My Lord. My business is plants and architecture, not politics."
"Yet your work has political consequences whether you intend it or not," the Marquess countered, his eyes sharp. "The Earl Laurent has already hosted three gatherings in his new conservatory. Each one was attended by people who wouldn’t have glanced his way before. Your creation gave him the stage to elevate himself."
Lucian offered a slight nod. "I am honored that my work serves my clients’ ambitions."
The Marquess gave a dry chuckle. "Don’t play the humble rchant with , young man. I know ambition when I see it. You’re not just building a glass box for plants. You’re constructing a ladder to climb society itself."
Lucian t the Marquess’s gaze directly as he straightened his back, "Everyone climbs, My Lord. So use family connections. So use military prowess. I use what Mother Earth has given ."
"Honest, at least," the Marquess acknowledged. "And effective. Let’s discuss the next phase of this project. The south gate needs to be redesigned. Make it larger, with ornate ironwork that displays our family crest prominently."
"Of course, my lord. The redesign will require—"
"Expense is not my primary concern," the Marquess interrupted. "Impact is. This conservatory must be the grandest in the kingdom. I intend to host Duke Rochefort himself this midwinter. His daughter will reach marriageable age soon, and my son—"
The Marquess stopped himself, realizing he was sharing too much of his political maneuverings with a tradesman, no matter how exceptional.
Lucian’s heart leaped at the ntion of Rochefort. Celine. For a mont, his carefully maintained composure threatened to slip.
Fifteen wasn’t really a marriageable age yet, considering life expectancy was around 145 years. 25 to 30 was considered the perfect ti to marry, but girls often beca engaged at 15 to 20 to build connections between families.
The thought of Celine being courted by the Marquess’s son sent a jolt of sothing ugly through Lucian’s chest.
He had not seen Celine since their encounter at the border. His promise to visit her had been delayed by business, by travel, by the constant need to expand his operations.
Now, the universe seed determined to remind him of her existence at every turn.
He conversed with the Marquess for another hour, discussing the placent of specific plants for maximum visual impact.
"I plan to let the guests enter through a grove of citrus trees," the Lucian explained, tracing a path on the blueprint with his finger. "They’ll first notice the fragrance, then the sight of actual fruit growing in winter. After that, we’ll lead them to the central..."
His connections were growing stronger and invitations to visit noble estates flooded his tray, but none of them were from the Rocheforts. The Duke would have certainly heard of him by now, but there was no invitation.
They were in a mourning period after the sudden death of the forr Duke, Celine’s grandfather.
When he heard about it, Lucian dropped everything to get to her, or at least find out how she was doing.
He had no idea how he planned to get past the castle walls and guards, but he had to do sothing.
’Make one of their gardeners call in sick, and then get hired as a temporary replacent?’
He heard their requirents for hiring new staff were quite strict. From background check to health check, they had to make sure no one with ill intent would get inside.
User Comments
0 comments from readers