Carlisle sent Merry an amused sidelong glance, but at the tight lines around her eyes, he shook his head.
“We’ll pass on this house.”
“That’s ahouse?” Alex asked, disbelieving. “I’d be scared to live in a house like that. It’stoobig.”
“Grandpapa’s house is scary,” Grace said, her voice sounding timid.
“Some houses are scarier than others,” Merry agreed, reaching back to pat the little girl’s foot. “Alex’s other grandmother has a large house because she had a large family to raise, but his dad said it was never scary. With so many brothers and sisters, there were always fun things happening.”
“My grandfather’s home is hundreds of years old,” Carlisle said.
It was hard not to feel intimidated at what the simple statement implied. Her chest tight, Merry sat in silence as he followed the loop back to the road.
She could understand needing a larger home for business. But a house that was hundreds of years old? In high school, she’d been curious while reading some Victorian romances about what had happened to the old English estates. When servants had left the rural areas to find better-paying employment and the government had started taxing the large estates, many grand homes had been sold or torn down. Some still existed and were owned by members of the peerage. Her stomach tightened.
“Whoareyou?” she asked.
“I’m Carlisle Wyndham, the same person I was when I greeted you at the daycare this afternoon.” Carlisle reached over as though to take her hand but withdrew it. “I’m merely a businessman.”
“Then who’s your grandfather?”
“He’s the 19th Earl of Birkenmor,” Carlisle said, an almost fatalistic note to his voice.
Merry nearly laughed. Here she’d been thinking it was surreal they’d shared that kiss last night and then acted today as if nothing had happened. This revelation won hands down. She was in love with the grandson of a member of the British aristocracy. And he said he loved her too.
Was his family famous? Because of the rich people who visited Huckleberry Falls, there were usually a few paparazzi hanging around. Was that an issue for him and Grace? She couldn’t think of any random people taking Carlisle’s picture when they’d been together. He never hesitated to give his name. It didn’t seem like he was concerned people might find out who he was.
“Tell me what it means to be the grandson of an earl,” Merry said.
“Not a great deal. As I mentioned before, I have an uncle who’s the heir, and he has two sons. My father was the younger son, so I don’t even hold a complementary title. I’m a simple mister. You mentioned my expensive cologne, so you know I’m equivalent to what you Americans call a trust fund baby. I received a healthy inheritance from my father, which I’ve invested and increased in my own right.”
The GPS announced an upcoming turn.
“Please don’t judge me for something I have no control over,” Carlisle said, softly.
Merry lifted her phone and showed him the list of homes. “This is completely out of my realm of experience.”
“Remember. These homes are also an investment,” Carlisle said. “Didn’t your husband have life insurance?”
“Well, yes. And I’m looking at using it to go into business with my friend Ellie, who’s also a stylist. She found out Alice is willing to sell the salon.” That whole thing had been a good distraction from thinking about Carlisle all the time, what with having Merry’s mother review the business plan, partnership agreement, and the purchase agreement
“Are you going to do it? You’ll have your own salon?”
“I’d be a silent investment partner. I don’t want the worries of being the boss while Alex is so young.”
Carlisle nodded, looking thoughtful. The GPS chimed in again, and he turned.
“Do you have live-in staff?” Merry asked as they approached the house.
“I usually have a housekeeper and a nanny for Grace.” Carlisle grinned, looking at the large rambler. It had an attractive modern look with a touch of rustic log cabin. “This is the house I’m the most optimistic about.” He pulled to a stop.
“What do you think?” he asked as he reached back to help Grace from her seat.
“I like it,” both children cried and scrambled out of the car. They ran up the shoveled walk but stopped when the front door opened.
“Are you Mr. Wyndham?” the woman asked.
“Yes.” He took the children’s hands and approached the steps. “I believe my assistant called you.”
