Ellen chatted happily about her home, especially the grounds and gardens. “I love strolling through something I helped create.”
“I look forward to seeing them,” Reese said. “I’ve always been a fan of gardens myself.”
“Fan?” Ellen asked.
“It’s short for fanatic, but it doesn’t mean I’m crazy.” Reese searched her mind for a better phrase. “I guess you’d say that I’mpartialto gardens.”
“Oh, yes. As am I. Aunt Nellie has such lovely ones.” Ellen glanced at her. “I have wondered how you spend your time in America. Is your father’s estate a large one? Do you dwell in town, or does he prefer his country estate?”
“He has a nice house in California, but we don’t live with him.” Reese had gone through a stage, when she was in high school, where she had stalked her father online. After she had read a story about his live-in girlfriend and their two children, which he was reported to dote on, Reese had stopped.
“Are your parents estranged?” Ellen asked.
“That’s a good word.” Reese watched the trees outside the coach window. “He’s a jerk.” At Ellen’s frown, she added, “He’s not a nice man and used my mother badly. I have the same feeling about him that you do about Sir Slimy, which is why I don’t want to see you be pressured into accepting a proposal from him.”
“We agree on that.” Ellen’s face had paled.
“I’m sorry,” Reese said. “I shouldn’t have brought him up and ruined the mood.”
“I try not to think of him, but—oh, look.” The girl straightened and pointed out the window. “When we come around this curve, we shall have a delightful view of the manor.”
When they did, the trees opened to a broad vista. In the distance, surrounded by luscious lawns and shrubs, was “the manor.”
“Oh, Ellen,” Reese breathed. While Nellie’s house, with its Gothic architecture style, had a fitting, fairytale look to it, Kellworth reminded Reese more of Pemberley from the Colin Firth version ofPride and Prejudice. It sat on a rise and must give an incredible view to people on the top floors. Off to the left, the grounds dropped away into large, tiered gardens. These had to be the ones Ellen had mentioned earlier.
They drove up the long road, and Reese imagined a line of carriages full of people dressed to the hilt to attend a ball here. Lady Ellen’s brother didn’t just have a title; he had money too.
“Do you like it?” Ellen asked, sounding worried.
“It’s incredible.” Reese squinted against the bright sunshine. What really caught her attention was the broad expanse of lawn. Hopefully the whole place wasn’t full of manicured flowerbeds. She needed somewhere to exercise on her own. “Do you spend all your time here?”
“My brother owns several homes,” Ellen said, “including our original family estate. He liked this property better, both because of the temperature here but also its proximity to London. I believe I may have mentioned that he moved the family seat here. It belonged to his late wife. She had inherited it from her mother, and their son was born and died here.”
“And he has never considered remarrying?” Reese asked.
“No,” Ellen said. “He is five and thirty this year, but many men do not settle down until they are that age. Grandmama worries that Gareth must get an heir. Our father had a cancer, and she fears my brother might get one as well.” Ellen heaved a sigh. “She worries about a great number of things.”
“Is this your mother’s or your father’s mother?” Reese asked.
“Oh, we call her Grandmama, but she is our great aunt. Our grandparents died young. She is a spinster and lives comfortably in a little cottage in Bath. She’s quite large and doesn’t get out much.”
“Well, I hope your brother finds someone who’s a good match for him,” Reese said. “With what you’ve said about him loving his first wife so much, it will be hard for a new wife to try to fill her shoes.”
Ellen looked at her curiously. “You speak as though you know of this from experience.”
“Not personally,” Reese said, “but I have a friend back home whose mother was a first wife. Her stepmother was always jealous of the memory of her mother and hid all the old family pictures. My friend didn’t find them until her father died. Her stepmother had stuffed them in a trunk and hidden them in the attic. You mentioned that you didn’t like the idea of giving up being your brother’s hostess here. Would a new wife resent you?” Reese gave her friend a shrewd glance. “Wouldyouresenther?”
“I have wondered about that,” Ellen said, a little pensively. “I would have to take on a very different role, though it would depend upon the woman he marries. If she is newly launched out of the schoolroom, she would not know how to manage a household like this.”
“Do you think your brother would be good to his second wife?”
Ellen gave her an appraising look, and Reese wondered what was going on inside that head of hers. Ellen might be only twenty, but she was smart.
“I believe my brother would be kind to his second wife,” she finally said. “I think he would try to make her happy.”
“But you don’t think he would give her his heart,” Reese concluded, “enough to be faithful to her.”
Ellen turned discerning eyes on her. “It would not be a love match, and I am sure he would not make her think that it was. It is difficult to offer a lady a heart that has already been given away, don’t you think?”
