Learning from one's mistakes that they made in life was simply part of living, but often times it would leave wounds that would only fade to scars. It would be these scars that made overcoming those precious experiences that had been the reason for those old wounds much harder, perhaps much more than it needed to be more most - if not all - of the time. Heartbreak was always one of those wounds that so often left an impression in the heart which made it that much more difficult for a new seed to be planted and grown, and though the young woman had only had her heart broken once by Julien when she'd found out that it wasn't even a real love and that everything he'd told her had been empty, once had certainly been enough to make her unsure of those feelings that pricked at her heart like a needle to the finger. It was just enough for her to understand very much what it could grow into if she wasn't careful, and while there was a part of her that wanted to let it grow, to watch it bloom beneath that warmth his smile always seemed to give her, she was hesitant. A part of her feared that it would grow and remain unseen or unwanted by the man who'd dared to show her that good men still walked the earth, that once it blossomed that warmth and that promise would vanish like it had only been in her imagination, only to wither away and die to leave another wound on that heart she'd managed to keep guarded and hidden away from everyone, from the world. Until Taylor walked through the threshold of her life. There was no taking away that bond between them, something that she could swear she had seen in his hunter green gaze when she'd let him into that wounded part of her soul that she fiercely kept hidden from the world, and even if she could she would never want to. No amount of concerned opinions made clear through refined British words could break that connection the French woman was certain that she and Taylor shared. Townsend would simply have to learn to accept that the roguish man was a part of her life, their life here in Sacrosanct, and once he did that she was confident the Englishman would see the good in him, just as she did.

Casting a curious glance up from those etched pages of her book, that slender hand continuing to stroke the mottled head of Rose who was more than content to sit there upon her haunches beneath Adelaide's hand, tail brushing against through concrete gently almost in time with each affectionate movement of that hand, she would watch as Taylor would work. Sage green eyes take stolen moments to admire the way that sinewy arms would flex beneath the force of his strength as he used those tools like he'd truly been doing this his entire life. She watched as he would stand back for a moment to admire his progress on each section before he would eventually more on to the next piece. She replaying in her thoughts how he'd told her he never finished his schooling, never pursued to obtain that G.E.D or a possible career in college, and looking at him now as he worked with persistence and precision, she would hardly believe that his past would bare such facts. She did not doubt that he'd told her the truth, but just how much did an expensive education truly weigh in light of someone who would be willing to put forth blood, sweat, and tears into all that they did? Yes, there may be things left unfinished and one might give up from time to time, but that was alright. No one was superman, so she hardly expect as much from Taylor. it was an unfair expectation to place on anyone's shoulders to exceed in all that they did in life. Adelaide was far from perfect herself, her lack of willingness to place her trust in many a clear indication that at one point in her past she had given up on believing in those around her, convinced she was surrounded by only lies and false smiles. The world had proven to the dark-haired woman that so many people had a frustrating talent for hiding their true colors, dressing up those deceitful and ill intentions in pretty little ribbon and wrapping paper until it looked like the very last thing that would contain only rotted fruit and empty bottles. With Taylor, he seemed to bare no such things, sharing with her a piece of himself without perfectly tied silken bows or glitter. How she wished he knew just how much the French woman appreciated that about him, how she hoped that she would not find the same skeletons in his closet that she'd found in those that had belonged to all the wealthy men she'd met in France. She was determined to trust him, to put that delicate gift into those strong and rougher hands with the hope that he would prove to be just as careful with it as he was with his work.

Returning to those pages, she would read a few of those informational chapters only to find herself looking up with glittering sage eyes to notice the sweat soaked shirt and it was impossible for her not to imagine just what rested beneath that grey article of clothing, a single brow lifting as that coy smile would curl onto those dusty rose-colored lips of hers. She looks to Townsend now, only amused when she saw those pale blue eyes watching Taylor critically as the Englishman continued to work in the garden preening those leaves. When Taylor finishes the lattice, he turns to Townsend and the young woman hears that sense of pride in those tenor tones."I shall have you tend to that tomorrow morning", replied those refined British tones and it surprises Adelaide that he did not have something sharp to say about Taylor's craftsmanship before resuming his own tasks. What went unsaid spoke much more to the young woman, almost sure that Townsend did not want to give away that he may just be impressed. She stifles a gentle note of laughter, moving her attention now to see Reginald lingering near Taylor who disappears into the shed only to emerge once more with a broom in hand as he swept away dirt and debris, stopping for a moment to roll around on his back in the soft grass, grunting and groaning with canine pleasure as he managed to scratch that itch on his own. The black and tan male stops for a moment, cropped ears perking as Taylor began to pull the long branches of the hedges alongside the shed and throw them to the ground. A quiet note of laughter falls from Adelaide as she watched Reginald run over and retrieve a branch that the man has thrown out of his way. With that branch in his mouth and tail wagging to and fro, he moves to sit patiently near his newfound human companion like a child with his favorite story book in hand. She had expected for Reginald not to mind Taylor's presence, but she hadn't quite expected for the beauceron to take such a strong liking the the man. It was endearing all the same though, even as she did not miss the still suspicious look that Rose gave Taylor even from here as she sat beside the dark-haired French woman.

Uncertain of just how many hours had passed, she places her bookmark into the pages where she paused in her reading and settles the book on the table beside her. The men had been at it for quite some time now, but that was to be expected since Adelaide and Townsend hadn't moved in all that long ago and the place needed some extra care and attention to be restored to its former glory. Deciding she wanted to be of use, she rises from her seat and moves back into the kitchen with Rose at her heels. Walking over to the refrigerator after retrieving three crystal glasses, she finds the iced tea that Townsend had made yesterday afternoon. Pouring the dark amber liquid and returning the pitcher back to its respective place in the body for the stainless steel appliance, she rummaged through anther cupboard the find the sterling platter and places the glasses onto it, gracefully carrying it outside in time to catch Taylor observing the results of his labor, Townsend clearly having heard those tenor tones and appraises the job he'd done."Well done, sir", spoke the Englishman contemplatively. Taylor asks what more there was the do and Adelaide can't help but admire how well he was doing beneath that close gaze Townsend fixed him with."I'd say a break is in order, gentleman", she interrupts just as the Englishman opens his mouth to surely set the man back to work. She moves over to them with the same grace she'd been raised to always carry herself with, a gentle smile upon her lips."Thank you, Miss LaBelle, though that was quite unnecessary as I could have retrieved refreshments had you told me you were parched", refined British tones say thankfully though those pale blues give her a glance she was quite familiar with and she rolls those sage eyes."I certainly haven't been doing anything to help you two, the least I could manage was this", she replies dismissing lyrics to the Englishman. He should certainly know by now that she was far from keen on his seemingly endless attempts to baby her when she was quite capable of handling her own needs. She turns her gaze to Taylor now."Second guessing your agreement to work for me yet, Taylor?", she teases gently, her gaze glittering beneath thick lashes as she waits for him to take his glass from the platter so that she could take her own and return to her reading, though she hardly minded the break from the innumerable words printed onto this white pages.