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Exhausted, eyes grittywith lack of sleep, Cara lay in bed, listening to the rain against the window, and the wind howling outside. Mrs. Booth was right, the house did make noises, but at least the rain was comforting, and familiar.
Lord Sherbourne… he wasn’t comforting. She’d found him interesting at dinner, as well as mysterious and baffling, and she’d liked teasing him. She sensed that not many people did joke with him, which was too bad because even serious,successful men needed to laugh. Serious, successful men probably needed to laugh most of all.
And then she thought of what he’d said. He’d had an older brother. Will had been the heir, but he’d died and Sherbourne claimed he didn’t remember him.
Was that true? Or was it a way to smooth things over, keep the conversation from becoming too personal?
He was such a contradictory man. He wasn’t warm, but he loved his dogs. He didn’t enjoy Christmas, but his house was decorated in almost every room. He didn’t like guests, and yet he’d taken the time to walk her back to her room. Up three flights of stairs and down the longest hallway imaginable.
It was all very strange. She closed her eyes and listened to the rain. She’d like to see more of the house. Maybe the viscount would take her on a tour tomorrow.
Maybe.
She stopped trying to think and plan and gave herself up to sleep.
*
Mrs. Johnson enteredthe smaller of the dining rooms with the pot of coffee. “Good morning, sir. How did you sleep?”
Alec shifted at the table. He always took breakfast in this room, which had been turned into the breakfast room because the light was bright and much smaller and warmer than the formal dining room. When alone, he’d often have dinner in here, too. Not sure why he thought the formal dining room would be best last night. It wasn’t as if he needed to impress Cara. Perhaps he’d thought he’d feel more in control as he truly didn’t like being thrust into close proximity with others… never mind strangers. “As well as I do when I first return. Milo keptjumping up on the bed and then Albert would whine. I ended up banishing them to the mudroom.”
“At least Lady is a lady,” Mrs. Johnson said.
“My sentiments exactly,” he answered. “How have you been?”
“Very well, and as you know, it’s always good to have you back. I thought you seemed to have enjoyed yourself at dinner last night. I’m glad Miss Roberts was pleasant company.”
“It wasn’t terrible, no,” Alec said a little stiffly, as he wasn’t human before he’d had at least two cups of strong black coffee and he hadn’t even had one yet. “But it will be better for all when she’s settled in her cottage. I’d hoped to have the house to myself for a day or two before the family arrives.”
“Well, I’m glad you were hospitable last night as it’s her first trip abroad. I think it’s lovely she wanted to spend Christmas in Derbyshire, don’t you? She has an adventurous spirit.”
“Not disagreeing with you, Mrs. Johnson, just expressing my desire to have my house to myself.” He lifted his coffee cup. “Not sure if you have any of this somewhere, but some coffee might help me face the day better. I imagine she’ll have coffee as well. She’s taking breakfast in her room?”
“No, here.” The cook hesitated. “Is that a problem? You got along so well last night I didn’t imagine you’d have any objection to breakfast.”
“I would have liked to have been consulted,” he said, striving to keep the sharpness from his voice. All he really wanted was coffee. Coffee and quiet, just the way he preferred his mornings. “This isn’t a bed-and-breakfast.”
“No one is asking you to marry her, just have breakfast with her.”
“Why? Is there a reason I’m to entertain strangers again this morning? Are we letting rooms at Langley out now—”
They both broke off as the door opened and Cara stood there, her face pale, her expression composed. She looked from Mrs. Johnson to Alec and then back to the cook. “Thank you for the invitation to breakfast, Mrs. Johnson,” Cara said quietly, firmly, her chin lifting a fraction. “But I’ll be heading out for breakfast. Didn’t want you to wait for me.” With the briefest of glances in Alec’s direction—a very cool, dismissive glance—she stepped back and the dining room door shut.
Mrs. Johnson gazed at the closed door, expression remorseful. “I think she heard you.”
Alec thought so, too, but she’d only heard part of the conversation and was taking things out of context. He wasn’t opposed to her, per se, he was opposed to company. All company. His preference for his own company wasn’t an attack on her, and he wasn’t going to feel guilty, because he’d been a good host. He’d given her a room under his roof, and invited her to dinner, and breakfast wasn’t a meal he wanted to share. He wasn’t a morning person. And he still hadn’t had that first cup of coffee.
He pointed to his still empty cup. “Coffee, Mrs. Johnson, if you would?”
Twenty minutes later, Alec was at his desk in his study when there was a light knock on the door. “Come in,” he called, briefly lifting his head to see his housekeeper enter before closing the document he’d been reading.
“I just wanted to cover the a few details regarding rooms before your family begins arriving,” Mrs. Booth said, standing before him.
“Nothing should be any different than last year,” he answered, gesturing for her to sit, but she remained on her feet in front of his large desk. “Uncle Frederick in his usual rooms on the ground floor, and the aunts on the second floor of the family wing.”
“I think it would be wise to revisit the addition of an elevator. Your aunts are still able to navigate the stairs, but at some point…”
“Yes,” Alec agreed. “It’s probably time. After the holidays, I’ll ask Trimble to have some contractors come in and give us a bid.”
