Where Dreams Begin(19)

A maidservant and a child descended the movable steps placed at the carriage door, and Zachary's attention lingered on the little girl. As he watched her, a smile came unbidden to his lips. Rose was a doll-like replica of her mother, with the same pretty features, and long brown curls adorned with a pale blue bow at the crown of her head. Appearing a bit anxious, Rose clutched something in her hands—something that sparkled like jewelry—as she stared at the grandeur of the house and grounds.

Zachary thought that perhaps he should remain in the house and receive Lady Holly in the parlor, or even the entrance hall, rather than greet them outside. What the hell, he thought grimly, and strode down the front steps, deciding that if he made a faux pas, Lady Holly would certainly let him know.

He approached Holly as she murmured instructions to the footmen who unloaded trunks and valises from the carriage. The brim of her hat lifted as she glanced at Zachary, and her mouth curved with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Bronson.”

He bowed and gave her an assessing glance. Her face was strained and pale, as if she had not slept for several nights, and Zachary understood at once that the Taylors must have put her through hell. “That bad?” he asked softly. “They must have convinced you that I'm the devil incarnate.”

“They would prefer that I work for the devil,” she said, and he laughed.

“I'll try not to corrupt you beyond recognition, my lady.”

Holly rested her fingertips on her child's tiny shoulder and urged her forward. The note of motherly pride in her voice was unmistakable. “This is my daughter Rose.”

Zachary bowed, and the little girl bobbed a perfect curtsy. Then Rose spoke without taking her eyes from his face. “Are you Mr. Bronson? We've come to teach you your manners.”

Zachary flashed a grin at Holly. “I didn't realize when we struck our bargain that I was getting two of you.”

Cautiously Rose reached up for her mother's gloved hand. “Is this where we're going to live, Mama? Is there a room for me?”

Zachary sat on his haunches and stared into the little girl's face with a smile. “I believe a room right next to your mother's has been prepared for you,” he told her. His gaze fell to the mass of sparkling objects in Rose's hands. “What is that, Miss Rose?”

“My button string.” The child let some of the length fall to the ground, displaying a line of carefully strung buttons…picture buttons etched with flowers, fruit or butterflies, ones made of molded black glass and a few of painted enamel and paper. “This one is my perfume button,” Rose said proudly, fingering a large one with velvet backing. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Mama puts her perfume on it for me, to make it smell nice.”

As Rose extended it toward him, Zachary ducked his head and detected a faint flowery fragrance that he recognized instantly. “Yes,” he said softly, glancing up at Lady Holly's blushing face. “That smells just like your mama.”

“Rose,” Holly said, clearly perturbed, “come with me—ladies do not remain talking on the drive-”

“I don't have any buttons like that,” Rose told Zachary, ignoring her mother's words as she stared at one of the large solid gold buttons that adorned his coat.

Gazing in the direction of the child's dainty finger, Zachary saw that a miniature hunting landscape was engraved on the surface of his top button. He had never looked closely enough to notice before. “Allow me the honor of adding to your collection, Miss Rose,” he said, reaching inside his coat to extract a small silver folding knife. Deftly he cut the threads holding the button to his coat and handed the object to the excited little girl.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Bronson,” Rose exclaimed. “Thank you!” Hurriedly she began to thread the button onto her string before her mother could offer an objection.

“Mr. Bronson,” Holly spluttered, “a gentleman does not pull out w-weapons in the presence of ladies and children—”

“It's not a weapon.” Casually he replaced the knife in his coat and rose to his feet. “It's a tool.”

“Nevertheless, it's not—” Holly broke off as she saw what her daughter was doing. “Rose, you must return that button to Mr. Bronson this instant. It is far too fine and costly for your collection.”

“But he gave it to me,” Rose protested, her short fingers working frantically until the button was safely knotted on her string.

“Rose, I insist—”

“Let her keep it,” Zachary said, grinning at Holly's perturbed expression. “It's just a button, my lady.”

“It looks to be solid gold, and part of a matched set—”

“Come with me,” he interrupted, crooking his arm invitingly. “My mother and sister are waiting inside.”

Frowning, Lady Holly took his arm. “Mr. Bronson,” she said in a crisp undertone, “I have tried very hard to ensure that my child is never indulged or spoiled. Therefore—”

“You've succeeded,” he said, walking her up the front steps while the maidservant followed behind with Rose. “Your daughter is delightful.”

“Thank you. But I have no wish for Rose to be caught up in your extravagant lifestyle. And I want my instructions concerning her to be followed to the letter. She must have a disciplined, well-ordered life just as she did at the Taylor estate.”