“Nonsense,” his mother dismissed. “You are the granddaughter of a baron and you were welcomed into Society in London, therefore you will accompany me. Besides, I already responded to expect usboth and sent a missive this morning that my son will be joining us.”
“Where?” Sterling asked warily.
“To a ball, dear.”
Of all the entertainments he could imagine his mother might enjoy, a ball was not on that list. He wasn’t even aware that there was a Society here to participate in such an activity.
“Yes. Governor Lord Charles Somerset is hosting a ball and we will be in attendance.”
*
This was notthe first ball that had been held since Somerset arrived, nor was it the first time that Lady Wyndham had wanted Caroline to accompany her. In the past, Lady Wyndham had always accepted when she declined the invitation because it was not her place, the daughter of an estate manager, to attend a ball at the Governor’s residence.
That is, until today.
The ballgowns she had packed away from years earlier were certainly now out of fashion and had been designed for an innocent debutante. Caroline was seven years older, a mother, and no doubt the gowns no longer fit.
She also had no choice which was why as soon as she returned to her home, she pulled out the trunk that had been hidden away after her arrival. Inside was the clothing of her past. From a time when she had been hopeful of a happy life and marriage. She’d had a happy marriage; it had just ended too soon.
As she shook out each carefully folded gown then stood in front of the mirror and held them to her body, Caroline’s mind drifted back to her one and only London Season.
That spring had been magical and she remembered the first time that she had glimpsed the Earl of Wyndham across the ballroom. Shehadn’t known who he was, but she had noticed that he was one of the most handsome gentlemen in the room. It was only after she asked a friend that she realized he was her father’s employer.
Any interest in Wyndham disappeared because even if her father hadn’t worked for him, she was still beneath an earl, though she still could not help but notice him whenever they were at the same entertainment.
It wasn’t long after that she had met Peter. He was handsome, gallant, kind, and wonderful. She fell deeply in love, or so it seemed at the time, and married him at the end of the Season and looked forward to a promising future.
A future she was denied when her husband was killed in war.
Now she was a widow and living on Wyndham’s estate. And tomorrow, she would be attending a ball with him and not simply watching him from across the room.
Whatever was his mother thinking?
She did not belong, regardless of who her grandfather happened to be. Surely Wyndham would agree but would remain polite because that was how those in Society behaved—most of the time.
Chapter Ten
Sterling woke ina restless frame of mind. He hated having to wait for anything or anyone, yet he had been told by his mother to cool his heels because the estate manager did not have time to meet with him.
Not only was it inconvenient, but nobody had ever told him to wait before. He understood why Hallaway could not be pulled away, but that did not mean that he could not go to Hallaway or begin his own tour of Wyndview Farm. Therefore, after breaking his fast, Sterling used a well-worn path to make his way to the vineyard.
It was a familiar sight from his youth when he used to stand on this very hill and look down into the valley and watch the growers tend to the grapevines, planted in neat rows and supported by wooden trellises so that they grew up and not along the ground. Today men walked the paths and would occasionally stop, stoop, and sometimes inspect a vine.
His father had been able to tell if the grapes were ready almost by sight and only tasting when he was certain that it was time to cut the bunches from the vine. It was a skill that Sterling had been eager to learn but never had, and even now, he wanted to be down there and be a part of the harvest.
Would he remember anything that his father had taught him?
Tomorrow! He would walk the rows of grapes with Hallaway. He wanted to do so now, but he couldn’t see his estatemanager among the men in the vineyard.
Instead, he turned and strolled down to the large barn. Unless wine production had changed, this would be where the grapes were brought, crushed, and poured into oak barrels.
When he stepped inside, grateful for the shade, he was brought back to his childhood once again. This area used to be huge, and it still was, with two wagons waiting at the end of one opening and between them, men stacked baskets inside so that they could be taken to the fields to be filled with grapes. The men were preparing for a harvest and excitement filled Sterling’s veins, much like it had when he was a boy, forced to watch from a distance and dreaming about the day he would be a part of making wine.
Beyond that was the wide ramp that led to a large cellar that had been dug out of the ground and lined with stone to keep the wine cool and away from the tropical sun. But as the grape production grew, tunnels were built to accommodate the volume of barrels produced each year before they were loaded onto ships. Usually, the large doors remained closed to keep animals, and more importantly, snakes from going down there for relief from the heat. Was there a reason they were open now?
Curiosity brought him further into the barn and then down the ramp where the voices below reached him.
“Do we now have enough oak barrels?”
