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And did you see the ocean, Meg? This is truly God’s creation!”
    Meg looked at her as if she were mad.
    A number of buildings were coming into view and the hills were now crisscrossed with hedges. Blanche inhaled, suddenly glimpsing a castle with a single tower, its back to the horizon where the ocean blended seamlessly into the sky.
    Land’s End was not a manor home after all, she realized, glancing out of her coach window so she could see the castle as they approached. Several towering trees had emerged, lining the approach to the courtyard, where a single oak tree butted up against the dark castle walls. A herd of magnificent horses espied her coach and took flight. Blanche sat up with delight, watching a number of huge, dappled horses galloping alongside her coach. The herd wheeled and vanished over a rise.
    As her coach approached the courtyard, she looked everywhere, at once. Wild rosebushes and vines crept up the castle walls, but they were obviously being tended. She was not a historian, but the castle had to be centuries old—and it was in perfect condition, on the outside, at least. There were a number of stone buildings, and the beginnings of a new structure, which she guessed might be a stable. She saw several carts neatly ordered between the buildings, and she now heard hammering. There were some bushes near the tower, cleverly clipped. In fact, everything was terrifically neat and well kempt.
    Land’s End did not to appear to be as impoverished as it was rumored. It was impeccably maintained, Blanche thought. Oddly, she was pleased. And the countess did not have to worry—her son was clearly preoccupied with his estate and had no time for town or his family’s matchmaking.
    Her coach had stopped a short distance from Bodenick’s front door. Blanche suddenly hesitated. She had not sent word and Sir Rex did seem inclined toward his privacy. Still, she was a family friend, and now, apparently, a neighbor. Sir Rex would never send her away. But she suddenly wished she had delayed her trip by a single day, so a note could have warned him of her arrival, never mind what Bess thought best.
    And for the first time in a week, she thought about Sir Rex’s failure to offer his condolences. If she truly dared admit it, that lapse in grace did bother her, and in a way, so did his failure to come forward as a suitor. On the other hand, she instinctively knew he was not a fortune hunter, even if his estate was modest enough to warrant his marriage for financial reasons. It had probably never crossed his mind to look at her as a prospective wife.
    Blanche was uncomfortable with her thoughts. She hardly thought him suitable even as a candidate for her hand, much less as a husband, so there was no point in feeling a bit chagrined by his failure to come forward. She was a renowned society hostess and he was a notorious recluse, so they had a grave contradiction of character. And she did not want to think any more about it. But oddly, suddenly she wished Bess were with her. Suddenly she felt a bit awkward, calling like this. Suddenly, she was nervous.
    Still, he had always been the perfect gentleman when their paths had crossed. She could not imagine him turning her away.
    Blanche smiled at her footman and stepped to the ground. “Please wait until I have had a chance to ask Sir Rex for the night’s lodging before you take care of the horses. Meg? Please stay here with the coach until we know that Sir Rex is home.”
    Meg nodded.
    Blanche started for the front door, aware now of the litany that was the ocean echoing on the beaches below the castle. She knocked on the front door, and as she waited for a response, she glanced at the rosebushes growing against the castle walls. She had been right, they were wild, but Sir Rex clearly had a gardener tending them. She wondered when the last thaw was and when the roses would bloom.
    She turned back to the door, knocking again, somewhat