“We shall judge for ourselves,” Celeste answered and suggested they play cards to pass the time. Dame Beatrice said she preferred to nap and promptly fell asleep.
Oliver was not unhappy having Celeste to himself. Nor was he surprised when she expected him to be a worthy opponent. She was, also, an intelligent card player. The conversation between them was easy, and the day was a good one for travel. The breeze was pleasant, the road smooth, and his new coach remarkably well-sprung.
Of course, traveling and riding side-by-side in even a fine coach like this meant that they would brush up against each other. His legs took up the most space, but Celeste did not complain, even when their knees bumped. Her delicatefragrance of cherry and rose seemed to swirl around him. He thought of asking what perfume she favored but feared she would think him overly familiar.
“What is the plan for tomorrow?” she asked him, placing her cards down on the travel table they were using.
“The ride to Masick’s land will take an hour.”
“That long?”
“Elberling is a rather large estate.” Although not the largest of his holdings. “I imagine it will take us a few hours to tour the property Masick has for sale.”
She stifled a yawn and smiled at him. “It isn’t the company.”
“I hope not,” he said and shuffled the cards for another game.
Sooner than he wished, they turned into the drive leading to Elberling. The coach’s change of speed roused Dame Beatrice. She sat up, blinking. “Your Grace, this is a remarkable conveyance.”
“I am pleased you are enjoying it, my lady.”
“I should say I am. I haven’t slept that deeply in ages. I may have to take a turn every afternoon in this vehicle while we are here.”
“I shall see it is at your disposal, my lady.”
Dame Beatrice smiled. “You are a charmer, Your Grace.”
He hoped everyone in the coach felt that way. However, Celeste didn’t appear to be paying attention. She looked out the window as if anxious to arrive, and then she sucked in her breath as if surprised. “The house!” She turned to Oliver. “Was it an abbey?”
“Centuries ago.”
“It is magical.”
Magical. Oliver had never applied that word to anything in his life. Certainly not to Elberling’s crumbling walls that served as a testament to the building’s once holy past.
However, as he looked out the coach window, a change fell over him. Yes, the arches of the abbey’s once proud walls were almost in ruins, but enough remained intact to show how majestic they had once been.
Behind the walls was the old stone building that had been built centuries ago. He had stewards to take care of each of his estates. His man here was obviously doing an excellent job. The late afternoon light hit the walls at just the right angle, giving the hard lines of the gray stone a silvery glaze.
“Those trees appear to have been planted the year the abbey was built,” Celeste said about the huge oaks with their spreading branches. “They have seen stories.”
He remembered the trees. He’d climbed them as a lad but he’d never considered their lifespan or the history they had witnessed.Hishistory. The stories of those trees involved his ancestors. There were a few unsavory tales. His great-grandfathers had often taken what they wanted. Succeeding dukes, like himself, preferred London. However, as he watched Celeste, her eyes sparkling as she admired the homehetook for granted, he realized magicwasentering his life. And it had started the moment she’d sent him the note that led to their meeting in the library.
“I suppose it is very drafty,” Dame Beatrice said.
“All of Britain is, Bea,” Celeste replied. “That is why I knitted woolen socks for your birthday.”
“True,” the dame allowed, and then her gaze fell on Oliver. Her brows lifted. Had what he’d been thinking shown on his face?
Her expression softened, and he realized he had an ally.
The coach traveled under the arches and around to the front door of the stone building. “I’m so ready to be out of this confined space,” Celeste said.
When his coachman opened the door, she was the first to hop out. She waited impatiently for Oliver. “You must give us a tour this very moment.”
“Happily, once you have seen your rooms and had a moment to yourselves,” he said, playing the host.
While the housekeeper, Mrs. Hillsdale, took the women down the hallway to the guest quarters, Oliver stayed in the reception hall, where refreshments had been laid out for the travelers.
