“Oh,” she said, her voice drowned by those around her. It was not really an exclamation of wonder, however. It was more a moan of despair.Thiswas where he had been born and raised? And she had had the effrontery to hope he would marryher?
Her hopes, which had been fading anyway during the past month, plummeted into oblivion.
The very first person she saw was Colonel Nicholas Ware, who was coming on foot out of a side lane to their right, an older lady on his arm. His mother? Winifred felt instant dismay and tried to lean back out of sight. A man accustomed to rigid military discipline would be horrified by the lack of discipline in the Cunningham family. He would be disgusted. It had not even occurred to her that perhaps he would be here too. Did military officers get leave occasionally, then?
He was not in uniform, nor was he wearing a hat. His near-blond hair was ruffled by the breeze. He was sprucely dressed, though, in clothes more suited to the country than to town as he frowned up at the carriages and raised a hand in greeting. Winifred was not sure if he had seen her or not. He was probably acknowledging Papa.
She scarcely noticed the lady with him, though she was, presumably, the reason they were all here. She must be the Dowager Countess of Stratton. They must be coming from her cottage.
“Who isthat man?” Sarah asked. She had been just a baby when Mama and Papa adopted her from the orphanage at the sametime as they had adopted Winifred. She was blond and exquisitely lovely and growing up fast. Her voice was filled with awe and admiration. “He isgorgeous.”
And probably twenty years or more older than Sarah. Winifred had to agree, though—with the greatest reluctance. He did indeed look gorgeous. No man had the right to look like that. Or to ruffle her feelings when they were already threatening to overwhelm her.
“Colonel Nicholas Ware,” she said. “Younger brother of the Earl of Stratton. And the lady is probably his mother. She lives at the cottage we saw from the village.”
But there was more to worry about than just Colonel Ware and his unexpected appearance here. Why did she always feel so self-conscious in his presence anyway? As though he was constantly looking at her and passing unfavorable judgment upon her. As he no doubt was when he thought about her, which was probably not often. She had called himcruelto his face. She had also made an idiot of herself by telling him she was opposed to warfare when it was not exactly true. Why should she care what he thought of her, though? She did not. It was Owen in whom she was interested. Though only as a friend, she told herself firmly.
And now she was about to meet the earl and countess, whom she could see descending the steps from the front doors of the main house. At least she assumed it was them. A young lady was coming behind them—as well as Owen, looking his usual genial self and beaming at her when he spotted her in the second carriage.
Mama was in the first carriage with the younger children. The earl waited for a footman to open the door and set down the steps and then offered his hand to help Mama descend. He greeted her with a bow while the countess smiled and said something to her before turning her attention to the children, who were spilling outbehind Mama and gathering about her like frightened chicks to grab a fistful of her skirts lest they be torn away.
Owen bowed to Mama and smiled at the children while the young lady—Lady Stephanie Ware?—said something to them and coaxed Samuel and Alice to take a few steps away from their mother.
Then Papa was down from the box of her own carriage and shaking Owen’s hand while the earl came to help Winifred out of the carriage and her siblings came tumbling after her. They fairly filled the courtyard.
“Miss Winifred Cunningham, I assume?” the earl said after introducing himself. “Welcome to Ravenswood.”
He included Andrew in his greeting. Her brother was clinging to her arm, making incoherent sounds of distress.
“These people are friends,” she told him in the sign language she had devised over the years. “We will be staying here.” She indicated the whole family and the house before them.
“I am so glad you were all able to come,” the countess said while her husband greeted Papa. “The summers are for family and friends. We always enjoy sharing our home during these months. There is enough space for an army, as you can see. Our housekeeper will see you to your rooms, where you can settle in before coming to the drawing room for tea.”
“Allof us?” Mama asked.
“Why not?” the countess said. “Our own children will be coming down too. They have been awaiting your arrival with barely leashed impatience. Ah, here comes Mother. You will want to meet your reason for being here, Mr. Cunningham. We feel very honored to have secured your services. Not many people are so fortunate, we have heard.”
Owen strode up to Winifred at last, smiling warmly. He took her hand in his and squeezed it.
“I am delighted you were able to come,” he said. “You will enjoy Ravenswood, I am sure.”
She expected him to continue with an assurance that he would enjoy showing it to her, but instead he turned to smile at Andrew and shake his hand. And Winifred was aware every moment of the approach along the terrace of Colonel Ware with the dowager countess.
She felt stifled and was considerably annoyed by the feeling.
Whatwasit about him?
Chapter Six
Nicholas led his mother into the thick of the fray. All was noise and bustle as children of all ages, newly released from two of the carriages, quickly found their voices and their legs and dashed about, calling to one another and pointing—at the sheep in the meadow below the house, at the archway into the courtyard, at the glass sunroom on top of the west wing, at the lake just visible in the distance.
His mother was undaunted. She even seemed enchanted by all the chaos and smiled warmly at the children as she went to shake Mrs. Cunningham by the hand and express the hope she had not found the journey from Bath too exhausting.
“Not at all,” that lady assured her. “I only wish I had more than one lap. All the children wanted to cuddle on it, but only the twins succeeded, one on each knee. The others complained and yawned and fidgeted and asked a hundred times if we werethereyet until they finally dozed off out of sheer boredom.”
“And you?” Mama asked, laughing.
“Not a wink,” Mrs. Cunningham said cheerfully.
