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“Until recently they lived with me. I’ve missed them.”
So, he wasn’t completely without feelings. “How many?” she asked. “I couldn’t tell if there were two or three.”
“Three.”
“Dogs make a house a home,” she said.
His narrowed gaze rested on her face. “Do you have dogs?”
“My parents do. I’m not allowed pets in my apartment building, but I don’t live far from my parents so I see Rascal and Frankie if not every day, then several times a week.”
“Rascal and Frankie? Not very dignified,” he said.
She laughed at his expression. “They’re not very dignified. Rascal is a rescue, and he’s exactly what his name says—he’s naughty, but very smart. Frankie is a wiener dog. She’s very fat—”
“Frankie is a she?”
“It’s confusing, I know, but my little sister insisted. Frankie is short for frankfurter.”
He nearly smiled. Nearly. “I figured as much.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to find Mrs. Booth, see what’s taking her so long.”
“I can just go to town,” Cara said, rising. “I can call for a taxi and go to a hotel—”
“But you’ve paid for a cottage.”
“My brother did, and it was a splurge for him, but as it was for a good cause, his son’s school, it’s okay. And as you said earlier, this shouldn’t be your headache, or Mrs. Booth’s. I’d rather go than cause any more trouble.” Cara managed a faint smile. “In fact, I think I’ll just step out now and wait for her outside on the front steps. There’s no reason for me to take up more of your time.”
“It’s raining. Hard.” His narrowed gaze swept over her. “You don’t look dressed for the cold, or the rain.”
“The front steps are covered, and I’m from north of Seattle. Rain doesn’t bother me. We get a lot of it—”
“Just wait here,” he interrupted. “Have a seat in the chair by the fire.” He disappeared through the closed door Mrs. Booth had gone through earlier.
Cara listened to the door close, hoping he wouldn’t be short tempered with Mrs. Booth. She couldn’t get a handle on Lord Sherbourne’s temperament. He was very tall and very elegant, but he didn’t have a lot of warmth. Perhaps that was the English way. She’d heard the English aristocracy was different from other people. She’d also heard from a friend who’d gone to college in England, that the English people, although friendly, might be slow to invite you into their homes. English had more of a reserve than Americans. That didn’t bother her though. Cara liked people and enjoyed new situations—provided she didn’t have to give a speech or read to a roomful of people.
Needing to stretch her legs, Cara left the sitting room to walk around the great hall, inspecting the suit of armor in a corner, the shields on the wall, the swords and shields on another, the tapestries hanging above. The dark beams and decor was all very medieval and deliciously foreign. This was exactly what she imagined a great English house to look like. Although to be fair, most Barbara Cartland heroes didn’t live in medieval castles, but rather elegant Georgian manors. She wished she brought a fewof her grandmother’s paperbacks along with her. It would be fun to compare Barbara Cartland’s historical accuracy to the real thing.
Her study of the great hall was interrupted when Lord Sherbourne returned with Mrs. Booth and an older gentleman introduced as Mr. Trimble.
“As you’re aware, the cottage isn’t ready for you,” Lord Sherburne said crisply. “But Mr. Trimble has assured me that it will be ready for you tomorrow. There’s no reason they can’t temporarily wrap up the renovation so we can get you installed there.”
“I hate to be a nuisance,” Cara said. “I really could stay in town. I noticed a number of charming hotels and inns.”
“There’s no need for that,” Mrs. Booth said firmly. “We’ve already discussed your situation and we’re going to have you stay here tonight. The Park has plenty of rooms.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I think we’d all be more comfortable if I stayed in a hotel,” Cara answered. “Lord Sherbourne has only just returned from London, and I’m sure he’d like his home to himself.” She flashed him a smile. “And his dogs.”
*
Until that verymoment, when this Roberts smiled at him and mentioned his dogs, Alec Sherbourne had not been enthusiastic about having a houseguest, not even for a night, but when the American tossed him that smile, a distinctly cheery, mischievous smile, he felt compelled to rise to the challenge. Because it had been a challenge, that smile, the mention of his dogs. It was as if she knew him—not well—but enough to tease him.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone teased him.
It was undoubtedly due to her lack of etiquette, but for once, he didn’t care. It had been a long, slow drive from the city and he was facing a long, dull holiday in Derbyshire. “I have twenty-some bedrooms here,” he said. “There are two enormous wings. I guarantee that you will not be in my way.” He glanced at Mrs. Booth. “Which room would you suggest for Roberts—” He broke off, and corrected himself. “MissRoberts?”
“Cara, is fine,” Cara said. “No need to be so formal.”
Alec ignored the suggestion. “Miss Roberts would probably want one of the warmer rooms, preferably with central heat.”
