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He puts his hand on my arm. “You’re never any problem at all. You know that.” He clears his throat. “I should go and bring some wood in. Make sure all the fireplaces are ready. Your mother called this morning. She and your father should be arriving first thing tomorrow.”

One night’s reprieve. I bite down another smile at that. “Of course,” I say. “Do you need any help outside?”

“Oh no. You go spend time with your friend. I have a couple of local lads here helping. Making sure everything’s ready for tomorrow.”

Another wave of laughter echoes up through the floorboards and I leave our luggage on the floor, walking back into the hallway.

Because I’m not a lonely kid anymore. I’m a grown man, with a beautiful woman waiting downstairs for me. For the first time in a long while, life feels good.

GEORGIA

“Oh, I’m so glad he brought you,” Barbara says, squeezing my hand. “I’m telling you, that boy is smitten.”

I’m not sure what amuses me more. The way she calls Theo a boy even though he’s in his thirties, or the fact she says ‘smitten’. Either way, I like it.

“I was desperate to see what Ravensmere looked like,” I tell her, sipping my tea. Vapor rises up from the light brown surface. “It’s very beautiful. How long have you worked here?”

“Oh god.” She blinks, like she’s trying to remember. “I first came here almost fifty years ago. I grew up in the village. So it’s been part of my life ever since I can remember.”

“And Mike? Did he come here after you married? Did you meet here?” I wrinkle my nose. “Oh god, am I asking too many questions? My mom always says I’m too nosy for my own good.”

She shakes her head. “Of course not. It’s nice to have somebody to chat to.” She smiles softly. “Mike and I met here at the house. He was working as a stable hand back then, when every stall was full of horses. And then he moved up to maintain the grounds. This place used to be bustling with staff. Now, for a lot of the time, it’s only us and some local help.”

She picks up the teapot and refills our cups, adding milk to make it look like the color of pine wood. “So you were here before Theo?” I muse.

“I was. I remember the day his parents brought him home. All scrunched face and clenched hands.” Her eyes glaze with memories. “He was nothing like his brother. That child would cry every time you tried to put him down. Screamed, really. Theo was quiet. A good baby. You barely knew he was there.”

Barbara pauses, her smile fading a fraction. “Too quiet, sometimes. I used to check on him because I’d think, surely he must be fussing by now.”

My fingers tighten around my mug. “Was he?”

She gives a small shake of her head. “Oh no. He’d be lying there, wide awake. Watching. Taking everything in.” Her gaze flicks to the doorway, as if she can still see him there. “He was always like that. Never wanted to be any trouble.”

Like she feels she’s said too much, she adds, “Of course, then he became a teenager and spoiled it all.”

I laugh. “Oh god, did he cause you a lot of angst?”

“No worse than any other boy. I brought up two of my own so I know their tricks.” She lifts her brow. “It got worse after he brought Caleb and Beck home. The three of them were little devils sometimes.” She sighs. “Though I did love it when they visited. They made him laugh.” Her eyes flicker to me. “Anyway, enough about him. Tell me about you. How long have you and Theo been… do you call it ‘dating’?”

Honestly, I don’t know what to call it. But I don’t tell her that. “We met the day I arrived in London. He nearly ran me over in the middle of Covent Garden.”

She coughs out a laugh. “That sounds like Theo. Always had a thing for cars. I’m assuming he behaved better after that.”

“He did.” I nod. “I heard him playing piano in the hotel lobby in the middle of the night. It drew me in.”

“He played for you?”

“I think he was playing for himself. I was the one who barged in.”

“I’m glad you did,” she tells me. “I’ve never seen him look so happy.”

“You think he’s happy?” I say, liking that description.

Barbara nods, wiping her hands on her apron before sitting opposite me. “He carries a lot, that one. Always has. He has a lot more responsibility than he should.” She shrugs, as if it’s nothing.

“He doesn’t talk about that much,” I say carefully. Because I’ve noticed it, too. All the phone calls that have disturbed our nights. The staff pulling him aside all day and night.

It doesn’t seem fair that he’s the only family member who deals with the problems.