Nora waited outside the walled yard as Colin Ashby had instructed, while he knocked on the Greens’ front door. Perseus sat beside her. She rubbed the soft fur behind the dog’s ears, grateful for his calming company and the reminder of home in this unfamiliar place.
She glanced at the still-lit sky. What time did it actually grow dark here? she wondered. If she were back home, she’d be seeking refuge from the heat of the day. Perhaps taking a rest from running the farm by sitting on the porch, Oscar lying on the wood planks at her feet.
Instead she stood shivering, even in the summer air, in a country halfway around the world. Would she be able to learn sheep farming and make a life for herself here? Her great-uncle’s solicitor, Mr. Shaw, certainly had his doubts, even if he’d tried to hide them behind a kind smile. Nora wouldn’t soon forget his shocked expression when she entered his office and explained she was the great-niece of the late Henry Lewis.
But there’s no going back, so please help me, Lord.
Nora set her suitcase down and crossed her arms to keep warmer. She had nothing back in Iowa, except for painful memories. This was where she would make a new beginning, one she desperately needed.
Footfalls disrupted her thoughts. She glanced up to see Colin striding toward her. His expensive suit looked out of place against the backdrop of the whitewashed stone cottage, and yet the man himself didn’t seem so out of place here. He’d looked every bit the handsome prince from a fairy tale when he’d intercepted the butler, his black eyes warm with curiosity, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. But with his strong-looking shoulders and friendly manner, he could easily pass as a laborer in the right clothes.
He pushed through the gate in the wall, that easy smile lifting his mouth. “Your key, Miss Lewis.”
Colin dropped the old-fashioned key into her open palm. The weight of it felt both ominous and promising. Would her new home be livable or a disaster after three months of being unoccupied? Whatever the state, she wouldn’t go to the inn. The sale of the farm had provided her with enough funds to buy some new clothes and pay her travel expenses to England. She wouldn’t part with what little she had left for a night at the inn.
“Thank you.” She slid the key into her coat pocket beside the letter verifying her relation to Henry Lewis and her inheritance of his farm. “I appreciate the help.”
She expected him to leave, to return to his grand house—with its lavish carpets, fresh flowers, electric lights, and marbled tables—though she rather liked his company. His had been the first show of friendliness in an otherwise long and tiring day of traveling.
Instead of bidding her good-bye, though, Colin glanced up and down the road, his hands returning to his pockets. “Do you know which farm is your uncle’s?”
“No,” she said, hoisting her suitcase again. It weighed so little. “But I have the directions.”
“Old Man Lewis’s place is back down this road, toward Larksbeck.” He waved in that direction. “You passed it on your way up to the house. His lane veers off to the right. If you reach the bridge to the village again, you’ve gone too far.”
Nora extended her hand to him. “I’ll find it. Thank you again.”
Rather than shaking her offered hand, he starting walking south. In the opposite direction of his home. Nora hurried after him, Perseus trotting alongside her.
“Look, Mr. Ashby. I’m sure I can find it.”
“I have no doubt of that,” he said without breaking stride. “But I can’t very well allow you to bump around in the dark by yourself, can I?”
“But it isn’t dark.”
He chuckled, though he still wouldn’t concede. “To allow you to go into a strange house, alone, would be ungentlemanly.”
Her retort came swift, almost without thought. “And British men are nothing if not gentlemanly.”
Nora pressed her lips together in shock. Had she really spoken the tongue-in-cheek comment out loud?
Colin stopped walking and burst out laughing. The deep masculine sound encircled Nora, filling her heart with something akin to pleasure, then floated off over the quiet lake on their left. “I take it you don’t normally jest, Miss Lewis.”
“No,” she admitted with a soft smirk, her cheeks flushed.
What about this man put her in a teasing mood? It had been years since she’d made a man laugh. Tom had often praised her quick wit, but there were things she’d believed had died along with him.
Colin leaned close, his dark eyes full of amusement. “Then I shall endeavor to provoke some quipping from you again.”
Nora’s blush deepened as she peered up at him. She wasn’t in danger of losing her heart—she’d promised it to Tom, and even in death, he had full claim to it still. But she couldn’t help a sardonic smile at the thought of the sheep girl and the rich, handsome land owner ending up together. What would Livy have to say on that subject?
“Shall we?” Colin unpocketed one hand to motion her forward.
She moved in step with him, her feet throbbing inside her shoes after hours of walking. They trudged along in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She felt no fear at walking alone with him. Perhaps it was the absence of darkness, despite being nearly ten o’clock, or perhaps it was more the sense of honor about him that told her she could trust him.
“Here’s your lane,” Colin announced at last. The path, no wider than a single wagon width, was lined on both sides with stone fences. Nora remembered seeing the ribbon of a road on the way up to Elmthwaite Hall, though she hadn’t guessed it led to her new house.
Her heart beat faster at the possibilities of what lay ahead. She quickened her pace as the path ascended a grassy incline. Colin dropped behind as if he understood her unspoken need to view the place for the first time by herself.
At the top of the small hill, the land stretched flat for several acres before climbing toward the mountains. Nestled between two stands of trees was a two-story whitewashed stone cottage with slate shingles. The front doorway sagged and one of the windows appeared to be cracked, but Nora didn’t care. It was standing—and it was hers.
She went to the door and fit the key into the lock. Colin came up behind her, while Perseus sniffed at the weeds growing beneath the windows. Nora twisted the key and pushed open the door. It moved inward with a loud creak. She stepped into a narrow hallway and set her suitcase on the floor, her nose filling with the dusty scent of uninhabited space.
To her left Nora found the dining room, to her right the parlor. Sheets shrouded most of the furniture, including the dining table and couch.
She walked past the staircase leading to the second floor and moved into the kitchen at the back of the house. A small table with three chairs stood on one side of the room. A sink, cooking range, and cupboard filled the rest of the space, while a washing machine guarded the corner.
Colin and Perseus appeared in the kitchen doorway. “What do you think, Miss Lewis?”
Nora glanced out the window above the sink—it had a lovely view of the mountains. “It’s wonderful.”
“The water comes directly to the house.”
“Just like at home.” She smiled in relief.
“Old Man Lewis did rather well for himself.” Colin leaned against the wall at his back. “His family bought this land from my ancestors more than a hundred years ago.”
“Did they want to sell it?”
“I believe they were in need of funds,” he said with a touch of ruefulness in his voice.
“So where are my sheep?” Nora leaned over the sink to get a better view. A square field, enclosed by a stone fence and gate, lay directly behind the house, but it was empty. A stone barn sat beside the field, its doors shut.
Colin chuckled. “You won’t find them out there. They’re up on the fell.”
She turned around. “The fell?” Apparently there were even words she would need to learn in this new life. No matter, though, Nora thought. She wasn’t without a home or a way to take care of herself. There was reassurance in that.
“That’s the name for the mountains. The farmers will bring the sheep down in the next two months for shearing.”
“They wander around up there, on the mountains?”
He nodded. “All the sheep are marked—on the ear and with paint on their backs and sides. That way each farmer knows which sheep belongs to which farm. I heard that Jack Tuttle, one of your neighbors”—he straightened—“has been looking out for Lewis’s sheep since his death.”
Nora took note of the name; she’d have to learn where Jack Tuttle lived so she could thank him. “Anything else I need to know about the sheep?”
Colin laughed as he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Much more I’m sure, but that’s all I can articulate on the subject.” She couldn’t help wondering the real reason he’d insisted on accompanying her—not that she minded. His company was proving to be as welcome as his dog’s.
“That’s good for now.” She gave him a grateful smile and glanced at the ceiling. “I think I’ll check out the upstairs.”
“I’ll wait below,” he said, waving her forward and giving her a slight bow, as if she were a queen.
Grateful to finish her final exploration alone, Nora climbed the stairs, one or two creaking a bit beneath her shoes. There were two bedrooms on the second level. They were identical—each containing a bed, a small table, a bureau, and a fireplace. Which one had been her great-uncle’s? she wondered. Would he be pleased she’d come all this way to take over his farm? She’d known so very little about him, other than his name, where he lived, and that he was related to her father.
She returned downstairs, her hand on the banister. Like everything else, a layer of dust covered the wood. Nora brushed her hand against her coat. A thorough cleaning, a new pane of glass for the parlor window, a stocked cupboard, and the place would be comfortable.
Colin, a lit lamp in hand, waited with his dog by the front door. The soft illumination helped chase away some of the growing shadows. Lifting the lamp higher, he peered into the parlor. “It all looks rather dusty.”
“But nothing that can’t be fixed with a rag.” Nora’s scrutinizing gaze alighted on a horn-shaped object hidden beneath a sheet. A thrill of excitement pulsed through her. “That must be a gramophone.” Her fingers mourned the loss of her piano, but a gramophone, like the one she’d left behind, would still provide music to sing along with.
She stepped into the parlor to get a better look, but instead of the click of her heels against the wood, her shoe connected with something that gave a frightened squeak. Startled, Nora jumped out of the way and crashed against Colin. He managed to keep hold of the lamp with one hand, while his other gripped her waist.
“Watch yourself,” he said in a low voice, his breath warming her cheek. “There are likely more mice where that one came from.”
Nora took a deep breath to still her pounding heart. But the heat of Colin’s hand seeping through the thin material of her coat and dress, along with the solid feel of his chest against her back, caused her heartbeat to quicken instead of slow. It had been so long since she’d been held, especially by a man.
Their close proximity released a bevy of emotions inside her—anticipation, uncertainty, hope, fear—but she knew the danger of feeling too much. She would not risk returning to the depths of pain she’d endured at losing the three people she loved most. Pragmatism, not passion, had ruled her life the last nineteen months. And it would do so now. She forced herself to step away from Colin, stifling a shiver from the cold the absence of his hand created.
“Are you all right?” He reached out as if to touch her again, but his hand fell short before he lowered it to his side.
Afraid she’d sound breathless if she spoke, Nora settled for a nod.
Colin studied her face, his gaze penetrating. “May I ask you a question?”
Her dry throat felt drier still. What did he wish to ask? “Yes,” she found herself answering, in spite of the concern throbbing beneath her skin.
“How does your family feel about you moving to England?”
Family. The word elicited a pang of sorrow in her chest. Nora fingered the sheet on top of the couch, allowing herself a single moment to feel the pain before she swallowed it back. “I lost my parents to the Spanish influenza over a year and a half ago. That’s what I meant earlier about running things alone.” She lifted her eyes to his and gave a halfhearted shrug. “So that leaves me. I have no siblings and no other living relatives.”
“I’m sorry.” The genuine tone of compassion made Nora feel that perhaps he, too, had experienced the death of someone dear. His next words confirmed her guess. “My brother was killed in a dogfight with the Germans nearly three years ago.”
“He was a pilot?”
“We both were.” The strangled tone told her more than his simple response. He’d been close to his brother. For a moment she wondered if, like Tom, this other Ashby had left behind a grieving sweetheart.
“That must be so very hard to have him gone.” Nora studied the shadows at her feet, hesitating. Should she share more of her own story of loss? The feeling of trust she’d felt on the walk over with Colin returned, giving her the courage to push the truth from her lips into the air between them. “I lost my fiancé to the war.”
“A double blow then,” Colin said with equal gravity.
“Yes, but what family hasn’t been affected? The war changed a great many lives.”
She lifted her chin to find him staring at her, his expression a mixture of surprise and respect. A moment later, the emotion in his gaze faded and he passed her the lamp. “I must be getting back. It’s a great pleasure to have met you, Miss Lewis.”
“Thank you again for all your help, Mr. Ashby.”
He paused at the door. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman, or a British one, at least,” he teased, making Nora flush, “if I didn’t offer once more to let you stay at Elmthwaite Hall until this place can be properly cleaned.”
“I’m perfectly fine staying the night here, as I said earlier.”
“Even with the mice and dust?” His eyebrows rose with challenge.
Nora couldn’t help a thin smile. It had been so long since she’d exchanged friendly banter with a man—she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until tonight. “I’m not a stranger to such things, Mr. Ashby. I did grow up on a farm.”
He smiled back. It was a rather nice smile, one that brought a twinge of warmth to her heart. “Very well.” He let himself out the door. “Come on, Perseus.”
The dog remained inside the house with Nora, his tail disrupting the dust on the floor as he wagged it back and forth.
“Go on, Perseus,” Nora urged. She gave his rump a gentle shove with her shoe, but the dog refused to move.
Colin turned back and eyed the stubborn canine. “I have an idea, Miss Lewis. If you won’t accept my offer of a clean room at Elmthwaite Hall, will you at least allow the dog to stay with you? After all, no true sheep heiress is without her dog.”
The spark of warmth he’d incited within her grew, bringing the sting of grateful tears to Nora’s eyes. She couldn’t think of anything better in this strange, new place than the companionship of a loyal dog to see her through her first night. “You don’t mind?”
“Quite the opposite.” His hands slipped into his pockets again. “I would feel better knowing I hadn’t abandoned you, alone, to the rodents.”
Nora knelt beside the dog and rubbed his yellow fur. “Would you like to stay, Perseus?” The dog’s tail swished faster as he attempted to lick Nora’s face. He was as excited to stay as she was to have him. “All right then…” She rose to her feet. “I accept. Perseus may stay.”
“I shall sleep better because of it.” He gave her another mock bow, the kindness and interest she’d seen earlier still evident in his dark eyes. “Good night, Miss Lewis.”
“Good night, Mr. Ashby.”
She watched him amble down the lane before she shut the door. What a puzzling man. He held himself with all the bearing of one born to privilege, and yet his easygoing manner and genuine thoughtfulness didn’t quite match the world she imagined he lived in. Had he always been that way? Or had the war deepened those contrasts? Nora found she very much hoped she had the chance to find out.
As she gazed about the cottage, she felt new energy seep back into her veins. Was it the relief of having completed her journey or the dog at her side or her time with Colin?
Whatever the reason, she didn’t think she could sleep just yet. Instead she walked to the gramophone and removed the sheet from it. A cloud of dust filled the air, making herself and Perseus sneeze. Nora laughed as she tossed the sheet aside. “Let’s have ourselves a little music, shall we?”
* * *
Colin changed into his flight clothes, while Gibson stood nearby, frowning. It was the one allowance Colin had insisted on after coming home. Gibson could help him dress for the day, for dinner, for parties. But when it came to his flying uniform, Colin would dress himself. He checked his appearance in the mirror, hoping with any luck, he’d be halfway across the Lake District before his father awoke.
He’d returned to a quiet house last night. His parents and their guests had retired, while Colin had been helping Nora. Still, he knew his father wouldn’t let his behavior at dinner go unchecked. For that reason, Colin had risen especially early and planned to spend the greater part of the day in his aeroplane. Away from Sir Edward…and Lady Sophia.
“Will you pass me my cap and gloves, Gibson?”
His valet handed him the needed articles and left the room. Colin sat on the edge of his bed to pull on his cap and gloves. Maybe he’d fly south today—over the Lewis cottage.
How had Nora fared last night? He was grateful she’d at least accepted his offer to let Perseus stay. She certainly exhibited the same naïve bravery he’d witnessed in the American soldiers he’d met during the war. Then again, she wasn’t a pampered heiress with servants to cater to her every whim like Lady Sophia.
Colin had taken one look at the cottage and declared the thing a disaster in his mind. The rickety stairs, cracked window, and dusty furnishings didn’t discourage Nora, though. If anything, she seemed eager for the work.
He remembered feeling that way during his time in France, where he’d learned to fly, to work, to be disciplined. Now he felt mostly useless. Flying was the one thing that brought him satisfaction and purpose. When he soared over the world, he was free—free of his father’s expectations and his brother’s continued shadow. Up in the air, he could be himself.
His flying skills hadn’t proven completely impractical at home either. He’d been instrumental in locating several groups of tourists who’d become lost on the fells, but those times were few and far between. Perhaps he ought to take up some other interest or work.
Like how to repair a cracked window, he thought with a smile. Wouldn’t that infuriate his father?
When he returned from flying, he’d have to stop by the Lewis place, merely to collect Christian’s dog, of course. His father would never condone a relationship with Nora Lewis. Not that she was interested in one. Colin had sensed as much when she spoke of her departed fiancé.
“Nothing wrong with looking out for one’s neighbor, though,” he murmured to himself as he stood and collected his goggles. He seemed to recall a sermon about that from his youth. Surely it would be ungentlemanly of him not to help.
He grinned as he remembered Nora’s jest outside the Greens’ home. Colin wasn’t sure which had amused him more—her teasing or her stunned expression afterward. She might be quiet, but he suspected Nora of being quite witty. He looked forward to proving the theory correct.
A jaunty tune from the war filled his mind. He whistled it as he left his room and descended the stairs. Colin was looking forward to the day. Until he spied Martin standing at attention below. He’d hoped to rouse only the chauffeur to help him start the biplane, then slip away before encountering any of the other servants who might inform his father that Colin was about.
“Good morning, Master Colin,” the butler said in a smug voice. “Your father wishes to see you in the library.”
Colin forced back a groan. He hadn’t outwitted his father after all. “Sorry, Martin. But as you can see, I’m off. I’ll speak with Father when I return.”
“You will do no such thing.” Sir Edward appeared in the library doorway. “I need to speak with you. Now.”
Though his teeth ground together, Colin nevertheless feigned an attitude of ease as he moved into the library. Martin shut the door behind them. Colin took a seat on one of several settees arranged around the large room and rested his arm along the back. “How may I help you, Father?”
“I see you’re off to fly that contraption again.” Sir Edward gave an indignant sniff as he crossed to one of the windows and stared outward.
“Shall I remind you that you purchased the aeroplane?”
Sir Edward frowned. “Only because your mother insisted. She thought it would pull you from your black temper. Instead, I fear, it’s only heightened your insolence.”
Colin forced himself to maintain his relaxed demeanor, but his fingers betrayed him, gripping the goggles so tightly his knuckles must be white inside his gloves. “Forgive me, Father. Even my grief offends you. Perhaps Christian would have been less morose. Once again, it is a pity he died instead of me.”
“How dare you?” Sir Edward blustered, turning from the window. “You mock his death.”
Colin climbed to his feet—he wouldn’t subject himself to his father’s pointed barbs a minute longer. His voice came out calm, despite the anger churning in his gut. “It is precisely the opposite, sir. I wish he had not died because I will never be him, and it is obvious this family would have been better off if his life had been spared instead of mine.” He started for the door, but his father’s next words halted his retreat.
“There is more at stake here than your pride and freedom, Colin,” his father bit out before his tone changed from bitterness to despair. “If you do not pull yourself together and do what you must, we will lose even more than we already have.”
Colin turned back, surprise puncturing his frustration. “What are you talking about?”
Sir Edward ran a hand over his face, then sank onto the nearest couch. “I wanted to keep it from you. To allow you to live carefree, as your mother advised.”
Nerves tightened Colin’s stomach, reminding him of those first few minutes when he’d ascend the skies to square off with the Germans. “What do you mean?”
“The fact of the matter is we are living on the edge of a cliff.” His father glanced around the library as if seeing it for the first time. “One that is crumbling under our feet as we speak.” He leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. “My overseas investments did not weather the war. We are living on your mother’s money at present, but that, too, will eventually run out.”
Colin returned to his seat, his mind roiling with the news. He hadn’t suspected financial troubles in the least. If anything, the way his parents had thrown parties and dinners recently, he’d imagined there was plenty of capital to be spent.
“What will happen to Elmthwaite Hall?” He had to know, though he feared the answer.
Sir Edward waved his hand in an arc that took in the bookcases and comfortable furnishings. “We may be forced to sell it, along with that aeroplane of yours, I might add.”
“Sell Elmthwaite?” The air left Colin’s lungs in a painful whoosh. His family had lived in this valley since the seventeenth century. He might feel confined here, but he knew no other home. He and Christian had been born and raised here, beside the mountains and the lake.
Still, the possibility of selling their ancestral home might not have pained him as much three years ago, before he’d made his promise to Christian. A promise exacted from Colin on the day Christian had been killed.
Promise me that you won’t ever turn your back on Elmthwaite.
The strong resolve of Christian’s voice filled Colin’s mind as if his brother had once again spoken the words. Colin couldn’t fail to keep the one thing Christian had prized more than anything else in the world, second only to their family.
“What about selling Brideshall in Scotland?” he pressed, anxious for some other answer to their troubles.
Nearly every summer that Colin could remember the family had traveled to their house in the Western Highlands of Scotland for holiday. The estate, Brideshall, sat on an island in the middle of the loch. While Colin hated to give up a place full of many other fond memories, it was far better than selling Elmthwaite Hall.
“I’m already preparing to sell Brideshall, which means we won’t be going there this year. But I’m afraid the proceeds won’t sustain us for long. Selling Elmthwaite would still have to follow.” Sir Edward bent forward, his hands on his knees. “Unless…”
Colin lifted his head. There was a way out of this madness? “Unless?” he echoed.
“If you marry well, you can help save Elmthwaite for us and future generations.”
Colin’s jaw tightened at the thought of taking a wife for her money and not because of any real affection. “That’s the answer? I marry someone like Lady Sophia and we’re fine?”
Sir Edward snorted and sat back. “No, it’s more than just marrying well. We need someone like the Earl of Weatherly to fund a project of mine that would give us a new source of revenue. Something the war hasn’t touched. Fortunately for us, you have at least another week to redeem yourself with Lady Sophia and her father.”
“What’s this project of yours?”
A smile graced Sir Edward’s face, softening his expression and revealing his enthusiasm. Colin had forgotten what his father looked like when he smiled. “I want to build a hotel by the lake, make Larksbeck more appealing to wealthy visitors.”
Not a bad idea, Colin mused. “How would these visitors get here?”
“By automobile, of course. I plan to purchase three or four new autos and another chauffeur or two to maintain them. We’ll bring the tourists straight from the railway to the hotel.” His blue eyes flashed with eagerness. “The old stables can be converted to house the new automobiles.”
Colin gave a thoughtful nod; his father had clearly given his plans much consideration. “What sort of hotel are you thinking of building? We can certainly afford some modest structure on our own, can’t we?”
“Well yes,” Sir Edward replied with obvious impatience. “But I want something large and extravagant. A hotel unlike any other in the Lake District. Which means we need serious investors, such as your future father-in-law, to help pay for the land and construction.
Ignoring the implications of such a reference, Colin felt the first stirrings of hope. He wouldn’t have to break his word to Christian after all. “Where would you build this hotel?”
“On Henry Lewis’s land. Next to Elmthwaite, his farm has the best view of the lake and is close enough to the village to be appealing.”
His father’s answer hit him like a fist to the stomach. An image of Nora rose inside his mind—the way her red hair had shone in the light of the lamp last night, the way his hand had fit snugly around her waist.
Sir Edward lifted his shoe to rest it on his knee. “I’ve been meaning to get that land back for years. And now that the old man has passed on…”
“That may not work, Father.” Colin’s hope began to shrivel beneath sudden doubt.
“Why not?”
“The place is already taken.”
Sir Edward glared at him as if Colin were the one stopping his plans. “By young Jack Tuttle?”
“No.” Colin didn’t want to say more. But he couldn’t remain silent, for Nora’s sake. “A great-niece of Lewis’s, from America, has inherited it.”
“How do you know? Is she here?”
Colin worded his reply carefully. “She came to the house last night to collect the key. She’d already met with Henry’s solicitor, who must have contacted her in the States and informed her of Lewis’s death.” He purposely left off mention of his part in helping Nora and going to the cottage.
“Martin said nothing of this.” Sir Edward rubbed a hand over his chin, his brow knit with frustration.
“We didn’t wish to disturb you.”
“As if you hadn’t already,” his father muttered. He sat silent for a long moment, deep in thought, before he lowered his hand to the couch’s armrest. “Is this woman alone?”
Wariness churned inside Colin at the calculating tone. “She is. Why?”
“Excellent.” Sir Edward tapped his fingers against the fabric. “Then she may still wish to sell the place. Running a sheep farm, alone, could prove a difficult task, especially for a woman.”
Colin recalled the determination in Nora’s blue-green eyes. If anyone, man or woman, could manage the sad-looking cottage and farm, she could. Or at least she’d give it a real try. “I don’t know that she’ll want to leave, Father.”
“Then you must persuade her.” Sir Edward stood. Colin had always thought of his father as a large man, though he’d long ago surpassed his height by several inches. “There is money to be made with bringing tourists here. I know it. But we must have the Lewis property to do it.”
He peered down at Colin, his blue eyes dark with intensity. “You’ve been blessed with certain gifts where the ladies are concerned, Colin. I’m certain you can ingratiate yourself with her. Then you will convince her this way of life is too demanding for a single woman to handle by herself.”
Colin’s gut soured at his father’s request, making him feel ill. Thankfully he hadn’t eaten breakfast. While he liked the thought of getting to know Nora better, he hated doing so under false pretenses. Much about him had changed during the war, but he wasn’t so past feeling that he was in the business of swindling women out of their sheep farms.
“There must be some other way to save the estate.” If he gave in now, when would the expectations ever cease? His life had stopped being his own the moment Christian’s had ended. And yet a part of him, buried so deep he rarely stopped to consider it, believed he must have been spared for some reason, some purpose. But surely this couldn’t be it. Helping save his home and family through deceit?
“I’m afraid we’re all out of ideas.” Sir Edward’s hands drooped at his sides. He no longer looked imposing but old and weary. “Please, Colin. We need your help on this. I…need you.”
The admission was the closest thing to approval Colin had ever heard from his father, and it filled him with childlike optimism he couldn’t completely squelch. Christian had been the favored son, while Colin had continually disappointed Sir Edward with his youthful charisma and a knack for finding trouble. But no matter how long he’d waited for his father’s approval, it still wasn’t worth the defeat of an innocent woman and a loveless marriage.
Even if they’d only met the day before, Colin knew without a doubt Nora was unlike the other women he’d encountered. She made him believe he was good enough simply by being himself. How could he destroy that trust by deceiving her?
He rubbed out a smudge on his goggles, his heart heavy and troubled. What would Christian do if he were here? Colin knew the answer at once. His older brother’s life had been focused toward a single goal—the conservation of the estate and the title of baronet. Colin might have hardened himself against disappointing their father, but he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Christian. He’d given his brother his word and he wouldn’t go back on that.
For whatever reason, he hadn’t died that day as Christian had. Now it was up to him to live for the both of them.
“Very well, Father.” Colin rose to his feet, his shoulders bent in acquiescence of this newest burden. “I will do as you ask.”