Insulted and relieved, Caroline turned and left the kitchen.
Her cooking wasn’t so bad.
As she crossed the terrace, Caroline glanced back at the house. Awareness trickled down her spine as goosepimples stood up on her arms and the hair rose on the back of her neck—a sixth sense of being watched or danger was near. Slowly, she turned and looked around, first for a poisons snake or scorpion, but saw nothing. She then looked up, and right at Lord Wyndam who stood staring out his window—at her.
Her stomach churned as their eyes met, and Caroline quickly turned around and retreated to the home she shared with her father.
Oh, she wished she could have seen the emotion in his eyes, but perhaps it was best that she hadn’t since his eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth firm with disapproval.
Chapter Four
Silence surrounded Sterlingwhen he stepped from the sitting room. Not even whispers from servants could be heard. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed that he and his mother, along with the butler, were the only people in the house.
Where had the servants gone?
A few had been present at his arrival but they had quickly scattered when his name was announced. Was he truly so frightening or was it as simple as they were surprised by his arrival?
Sterling walked down the corridor and paused at the foot of the stairs. Why had he not met the housekeeper either?
“Is there something that you need, Lord Wyndham?” George asked as he approached from behind.
“A bath,” he answered. “And where were my belongings delivered?”
“To the same room you occupied when you were younger. The maids have seen that it has been freshened and new bedding replaced the old.”
“Thank you.” He started up the stairs and paused. “Did anyone see to unpacking my trunks? I do not have a valet.”
“I can have the highest-ranking footman act as one while you are here.”
He shook his head. “That is not necessary. I only need someone to collect my laundry. I have been at sea for months.”
“A maid will be sent to you right away.”
Sterling nodded, climbed the stairs, and turned to enter the room that he had occupied for the first twelve years of his life. That was when his father had been the caretaker of Wyndview Farm. He’d been the third son of an earl and the position had been better than having to go into trade, even though managing a family estate could have been considered as such.
His sleeping chamber had not changed. The plastered walls remained light in color in contrast to the darkening orange-hued pine floors. Dark-blue curtains framed the windows and when closed, were thick enough to block out the sun, which sometimes became necessary when the days grew hot, though more relief could be found from the heat with the curtains pulled away and windows opened for fresh air and a hopeful breeze.
He turned to his trunks and opened them, placing the clothing that needed to be laundered in one stack and the items that were still clean in another to be put away, then wandered to the window to await his bath.
The landscape was just as he remembered, with vibrant flower gardens planted away from the house to take advantage of the sun and filled with orchids, lilies, heather, proteas, hibiscus, verbena, daises, and honeysuckle—the names his mother had taught him when he was a child.
Beyond and in the valley were neat rows of grapevines. The blood of this estate. Now, after fifteen years, Sterling was back, eager to tour Wyndview Farm and be reminded of how it was run and how wine was made. It was an export of Trade Wynd, one of the largest importers and exporters in England and owned by his family, thus it was necessary for him to understand all aspects of the business.
Yet, despite his purpose for being here, melancholy settled into his soul. He recalled how he and his brothers had played outside, when they were free of their tutors, and how they had swam in the lake hisgreat-uncle had dug out of the ground that had filled with rainwater over time until it was always full. It was down in the valley where he had started to learn how to run the estate because one day he would take his father’s place.
They always assumed that it would be here, not back in England.
He remembered visiting with his maternal grandparents, but they had passed away after his family had left the Cape Colony.
He had not thought about his grandmother’s tight warm hugs in a very long time and suddenly missed them.
Sterling closed his eyes as memories swept over him and back to a time when he had been happy. When his entire family had been happy and when they had all lived together and loved.
The same happiness could have continued in England, but it hadn’t. His mother had been miserable and then she was gone.
When he opened his eyes again, Sterling looked down to the stone terrace that separated this house from the one that had been built for a great-uncle who had decided to live here even though his brother had been the caretaker of Wyndview Farm. It was now the home reserved for the estate manager and his family.
Movement at the corner of the terrace caught his attention and he looked to note Caroline crossing the terrace from the kitchens.
