Monteith nodded. “May I walk with you?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“So, you aren’t a country girl?” he asked.
Celeste liked his drawl. He seemed unrushed and so at ease. She shook her head. “I’m a London girl through and through.”
He grinned. “I grew up in New York City but have been living farther west on the plains for most of my adult life.”
A city boy turned,” she began, but wasn’t really sure what he had become.
“Rancher or homesteader,” he provided.
Her eyes widened. She’d read novels about men in the American West. “Do you still spend time in New York City?”
He nodded. “Most of my family still calls it home, besides one of my brothers. My land out west is only one part of my family’s ventures. The rest are located in the city.”
“What brings you to London?” Celeste asked, intrigued, trying to understand what the appeal of England would be to this man who seemed so rugged and, she swallowed, wild.
He shrugged. “New business opportunities for my family. My brothers Cory and Cordell are more than capable of managing the property out west and our businesses in New York City.”
When they reached the house, he stopped. “I need to take care of Betsy, but I hope to see you later today.”
Celeste realized she liked him. Hopefully, she could speak with him more. He was so different than the other men at the party. Not that it mattered, currently, she didn’t have time for men in her life, even a dalliance. Still, didn’t Derry and Devons tell her to enjoy herself more? There was no harm in friendly banter. She smiled. “I hope so as well. Good day, Monteith.”
He winked at her. “Bye, Hathaway.”
Chapter 2
Caleb frowned as he watched his mother fidget in the great hall of Derry’s country home. He wished she would snap out of the nervous state she’d been in since they arrived in England. It wasn’t her, and he didn’t like it.
A brief smile did flit across her always anxious face as she studied the room; his mother said, “This space is breathtaking.”
It was, Caleb thought. He glanced around, taking in the roaring fire in the massive hearth and the stained-glass windows depicting a famous Greek myth. Courtney, his only sister, sighed. “Someday, my future husband must build me a house with a room like this.”
Their brother Cordell snorted. “You better hope he is as rich as sin.”
Colleen Monteith, their mother, shushed them all. “It isn’t appropriate to discuss money.”
They all looked at her, shocked. She’d been scolding them since they arrived in the country, insisting some of their behavior wasn’t done on this side of the pond. Truthfully, their mother was driving them all a little crazy. Caleb had the title. Why was she trying to mold them into perfect English peers?
Courtney, the less blunt child, looped her arm through their mother’s. “Don’t fret, Mother. We will get the hang of it, or at least Caleb will. The rest of us will escape back to New York City before anyone discovers we are heathens.”
“Thank god,” Cordell muttered.
Their mother shot him a wounded look. He sighed. “I love you, but Father wouldn’t want us to change to please these people.”
She fixed his brother’s cravat. “I don’t want anyone to change. I want everything to go well for Caleb. He is a marquess now.”
A grateful look flashed across Cordell’s face. Caleb had no doubt he was thanking his lucky stars for being a year younger. His brothers both had a good chuckle when they were informed that, as the oldest brother, Caleb would become a marquess.
“Mother, I see Lady Davenport. Wasn’t she the one who mentioned that amazing sweet shop? Let’s go speak with her so we can get more details,” Courtney suggested.
Their mother’s eyes lit up. “Yes, excuse us.”
Caleb grabbed a drink for himself and Cordell. His brother muttered, “I don’t know how you will put up with all her worrying about your behavior. I’ve never seen her so stressed. I’m starting to wonder if she should stay with you.”
Their mother had been adamant that she would return to England with him, but he wasn’t sure she and the country suited. Still, he would be patient. In New York City, his parents were considered the elite. He suspected their mother, here, still saw herself as the maid who ran off with the man too good for her. Their father would be outraged by such a thought. She would come around. “I will give her time. Eventually, she will realize that what anyone says about her or Father matters not.”
