Where Dreams Begin(28)

At Holly's suggestion, she and Elizabeth strolled in the five-acre garden outside, temporarily delaying their lessons until they became better acquainted. “This is my favorite place to walk,” Elizabeth said, guiding her to a “wilderness path” that was far less structured and formal than the rest of the garden. Walking along a trail paved with limestone, Holly enjoyed the huge drifts of snowdrops all around them. The path was lined with ornamental trees and bunches of winter honeysuckle that flooded the air with fragrance. Lush topiaried hedges were heavily interspersed with rosy splashes of cyclamen and scarlet clematis, luring Holly farther along the curving path.

As she conversed with Elizabeth, Holly realized that the girl was truly extraordinary. Elizabeth's high-spirited nature did little to conceal her acquaintance with the more unpleasant facts of life. Here was no schoolroom miss who viewed the world through narrow blinders, but a girl who had been born in poverty, the kind of poverty that stripped away all girlish illusions. Her dark eyes were rather too seasoned for a young woman her age, and she seemed to have no desire to please anyone save herself. Both would be extremely off-putting to most prospective suitors, except that Elizabeth also happened to possess a wild, romantic beauty that most men would find irresistible.

Pushing back dark curls that kept tumbling into her face, Elizabeth began the conversation with what Holly would soon discover was her habitual bluntness. “I hope you don't think too badly of my brother, Lady Holland.”

“I regard him as an interesting challenge.” Holly quickened her step to match the girl's long, lazy strides.

“You don't dislike him, then?”

“Not at all.”

“That's good,” Elizabeth said with obvious relief. “Because I would understand if you considered him to be perfectly rotten. Zach has many bad habits, and he's a bit wild, not to mention arrogant beyond belief…but underneath he's the gentlest man that ever lived. You'll probably never see that side of him—he only shows it to Mama and me. But I did want you to understand that he is definitely worth helping.”

“If I didn't believe that, I would never have accepted the position he offered.” They walked up a gentle slope toward a pair of long rectangular ponds. It was early enough that white mist still hovered over the water and frost still clung to the leaves of the hedges. Breathing deeply of the morning air, Holly cast a smile toward Elizabeth. “I find it remarkable that your brother has accomplished all this,” she said, gesturing at the spectacular beauty all around them.

“Zach does whatever is necessary to get what he wants,” Elizabeth replied, slowing her pace as they crossed a stone bridge leading to a topiary garden. “No matter what the cost to himself. I never knew my own father—there's only been Zach to take care of Mama and me. All during my childhood, Zach worked at the docks to support us. But there was never enough money for a decent life. Then Zach turned to prizefighting. He was good at it, of course, but the fights were so brutal…Just hearing the accounts of them afterward made me physically ill.” Pausing at a topiary shaped like three balls standing atop each other, Elizabeth scrubbed her fingers through the riot of dark curls on her forehead. She sighed at some painful memory. “After a fight, Zach would come into the smelly old lodging house where we lived…and, oh, the way he looked. All bloody and battered, his body just black and purple with bruises. He couldn't stand to be touched, even to let Mama and me rub liniment on him. We begged him not to do it anymore, but once he's made up his mind about something, he won't be swayed.”

Holly meandered to a cone-shaped hedge. “How long did his prizefighting last?”

“About two years, I think.” A heavy swath of curls dropped from the pile on Elizabeth's head, and she scowled. “Oh, this wretched hair…there's nothing to be done with it.” She reached up, twisted the offending locks and pinned them back into the unruly mass. “By the time I was twelve,” she continued, “we moved out of the lodging house and into our own little cottage. Then Zachary became part-owner of a steamship and started acquiring more wealth, and…well, he seems to have the Midas touch. Zach has accomplished almost every goal he's set for himself. Except…he hasn't changed much since his prizefighting days. Often he behaves as if he's still in the rope ring. Not that he's physically violent, but…can you understand what I mean?”

“Yes,” Holly murmured. Zachary Bronson was still struggling and striving, unable to let go of his tightly coiled aggression. Now it was being applied to the world of business rather than pugilism. And he was horribly self-indulgent, taking his pleasure with many women in order to reward himself for all he had been deprived of. He needed someone to tame him enough that he could live comfortably in a civilized society. However, that person would certainly not be herself—all she was capable of was polishing the surface a little.

“Zach wants to marry, and marry well,” Elizabeth said wryly. “Tell me truthfully, Lady Holly, do you know any woman that would be able to manage him?”

The question made Holly uncomfortable, because she did not. And she knew that none of the legion of sheltered young girls coming out this Season would have any idea of how to handle a man like Bronson.

“I thought so,” Elizabeth said, reading the answer in Holly's face. “Well, we've our work cut out for us, don't we? Because Zachary also wants me to marry, and not just any old baron or viscount will do.” She gave a merry, unrestrained laugh. “He won't rest until he's foisted me off on a duke!”