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Alec’s words played through her head as they drove back to Langley Park. The words,You’re an American, you don’t understandcontinued to echo in her head as Alec unlocked the door to the mudroom, and went to free his dogs.
She wasn’t offended by the words, because she was an American and he was right, she didn’t understand the pressure he felt. She didn’t know anything about nobility or aristocracy, or even what it meant to have an ancient title in a modern country. But at the same time, Alec was a person, a man, and his personal well-being was every bit as important as the family legacy.
She hadn’t yet made it upstairs, and was just entering the silvery-blue music room, when she heard a car approaching the house. Cara crossed behind the piano to look out the window, wondering if maybe it was Mr. Trimble returning, as she’d be thrilled to have his help for the popping of champagne bottles and passing around the bubbly. But no, it wasn’t Mr. Trimble’s truck, it was a black taxi, and the taxi stopped right outside the door that opened into the old great hall, the door only the family used, which suggested that the tall, slightly stooped older man climbing from the back of the taxi was family, possibly the Uncle Frederick Alec had mentioned.
But looking at Frederick slowly straighten, it crossed her mind that he was probably a great uncle, as he was very lean and old, somewhere in his mid to late eighties. He looked likea Sherbourne, too, with his height and still rather impressively broad shoulders. He also had a fairly full head of white hair, slightly thinner on top, but neatly combed. He wore a heavy wool coat, over what appeared to be a tweed jacket. He was patting coat pockets apparently looking for money to pay the taxi driver.
“Alec, your uncle is here!” Cara called, aware that without staff someone needed to go help the elderly man, but wasn’t sure that she was the right person. “Alec! Should I go help him?”
Cara wasn’t sure Alec had heard her, and she hesitated, but the driver was paid, a suitcase was set on the bottom stair, and as the driver turned around, the elderly man approached the stone steps, slowly and stiffly, but with tremendous dignity.
She opened the front door, even as Alec appeared at her side. “Uncle Frederick isn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow,” he said in passing, as he went outside, descending the stairs to take the suitcase and help his uncle to the front door.
Once in the house, Frederick began to shrug off his thick winter coat. “It’s not much warmer in here than outside,” he said, “which is how it’s always been. Good to know some things never change.”
“Uncle Frederick, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Cara Roberts. Miss Roberts is staying here for Christmas,” Alec said, handling introductions right away.
Cara held her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr…”
“Frederick Sherbourne,” the old man said firmly. “I’m a Sherbourne. Like my nephew.”
He didn’t take her hand but she wasn’t sure he’d seen it as he was now fumbling with his tweed coat pockets, searching for something. “Can’t find my glasses. Hope I didn’t leave them in the car.”
“Uncle Frederick, they’re here,” Alec said, patting the front pocket of the jacket.
“So they are,” the older Sherbourne said, drawing the glasses from the breast pocket and putting them on his nose. “Where are the dogs? Where is everybody? Why is it so quiet? Don’t tell me Emma hasn’t arrived yet.”
“The dogs won’t come out until you’re seated somewhere safe, Uncle Frederick. Lady would be a lady, but remember the pups last year? Well, they haven’t improved much. Obedience school dropouts. Father would be appalled.”
“Labradors take time to grow up. Give them another year. They’ll settle down.” He glanced around. “But where is Emma and the other one?”
Cara could see that Alec was fighting a smile.
“The aunts won’t be arriving until tomorrow, Uncle Frederick,” Alec answered, “and you know perfectly well that it’s Emma and Dorothy.”
Frederick was still frowning. “But why are they delayed? The weather is going to get nasty. They should be here today.”
“I’m glad you’re here today,” Alec said. “But none of you were expected until tomorrow. Tomorrow is our dinner. Tonight it’s a casserole, not sure which, that Mrs. Johnson left for us to heat up.”
“A casserole? For dinner? What’s happened to Johnson? For that matter, where is Trimble and Booth? The staff is getting lax. Not proper, not proper at all.”
“You don’t need to worry about the staff, Uncle Frederick, everyone is doing exactly as they should be, which reminds me, the house tour begins in just a little over an hour.” Alec glanced at Cara. “I don’t think we have time to heat up the shepherd’s pie and eat. We’ll have to make do with something else, cheese toastie, perhaps—”
“Cheese toastie? For our Christmas dinner?” Frederick interrupted. “I think not!”
Cara’s gaze met Alec’s and they exchanged a brief smile.
“Our Christmas dinner is tomorrow night,” Alec said to his uncle. “Tonight is the tour, and with Mrs. Johnson off for a family emergency, we’re going to have to fend for ourselves, and since we’re short on time, would you like a cheese toastie, because I think that’s the limit of my culinary skills?”
Uncle Frederick turned to Cara. “What about you? Don’t you know how to cook anything?”
“Meat loaf. Teriyaki chicken,” she said. “If I had the ingredients.”
“And the time,” Alec added. “That’s really the main concern at this point. I need to shower and change, do a quick walk through and turn on the lights, including all the lights on the Christmas trees, light the candles on the mantels, make sure the fires are burning in the proper hearths—” He broke off, shook his head. “I know there is something else, too.”
“The champagne,” Cara said. “But you won’t need that until near the end.”
“What about the glasses?” Alec asked.
