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condolences he’d offered her had sounded utterly sincere. And now as they rolled on toward the inn and the collection of Fiona, he seemed preoccupied with worry. She could make several guesses as to what concerned him, but she preferred not to. No, it was much more comforting to wrap herself in the illusion that, down deep, he had a heart.

  Three  
    CAROLINE CONSIDERED THE STRUCTURE LOOMING AT THE end of the gravel drive; to call it an inn did it a great injustice. Built of white stone, two stories tall, and as long as a London block, it was, to her mind, closer to a castle. The sun was setting, bathing the front wall in the softest, peach-tinted light. And the flowers . . . Never in her life had she seen anything as beautiful as the gardens that lined the drive, as the riot of color that spilled out of the carved stone planters that marched up both sides of the wide steps to the massive wooden doors. If Ryland Castle was just half as beautiful, putting up with its master might be worth the effort.
    “And what don’t belong here?” Simone asked from the other end of the seat.
    Caroline leaned forward so she could see out the other window. A battered, weather-beaten wooden cart had been drawn up to the far side of the inn and parked in the shade of an ancient tree. A gray horse, who looked not one year younger than the tree, stood in the traces, his head hanging. Beside the cart . . . Had they been dressed better, they might have passed for a circus. A man, a woman, three dashing, yipping dogs, and a bounding horde of dark-hairedchildren raising every bit as much noise as the dogs. Except for one child. A little towheaded thing dressed in what looked like a flour sack and standing as silent and still as a post between the man and the woman. “Oh, dear,” Caroline whispered, knowing in her heart that the little girl was the one they’d come to collect.
    “S’pose that’s Fiona they got on that lead rope?”
    Rope?
Caroline looked closer as the carriage came a halt. Yes, there was indeed a rope tied around the child’s waist. The other end of it was in the man’s hand. “The poor baby.”
    “You will both remain here,” Lord Ryland instructed as he let himself out of their vehicle. “And allow me to deal with these people without interference.”
    The instant he closed the door and walked away, Caroline slipped to the other seat and closer to the window.
    “He always declarin’ like that?” Simone asked as Caroline saw the little girl look at the stranger advancing toward them and then try to take a step back. The man shortened the rope and held her in place.
    “It does seem to be his initial, preferred approach to matters.”
    “I don’t like bein’ barked at.”
    “No one does,” she replied absently, watching the child hang her head and roll her shoulders forward so that the curtain of stringy, dirty blond hair fell over her face. “He’s going to have to make some adjustments in his manner in the coming days.”
    “Well, it oughta be interestin’ watchin’ you two butt heads over it.”
    “I don’t know that ‘interesting’ is the word I would choose to describe the contest,” Caroline admitted as Lord Ryland removed his hat and bowed slightly to thewoman and then shook hands with the man. “I’m afraid that it could become a bit explosive. He’s already proven that he can be quite devious in the pursuit of his objectives.”
    “Your mouth ever get tired of puttin’ all those words together so fancy like?”
    “No.” How very odd. Fiona was clearly made uncomfortable by all the attention focused on her and yet she didn’t reach out to either her aunt or her uncle for reassurance. It was almost as if she were trying to become invisible instead.
    “He’s a looker, ain’t he?”
    Caroline blinked and brought her gaze back inside the carriage. Simone was grinning from ear to ear. “He’s passably handsome,” Caroline allowed. “His snobbery and high-handedness rather