Where Dreams Begin(41)

“Mrs. Burney,” Holly murmured, “can you tell me where Mr. Bronson is at present?”

“I believe he's in the library, milady.”

“I will show Mr. Somers there.” Taking her cousin's arm. Holly guided him through the house, while he carried his plans beneath his other arm.

Glancing at his surroundings as they walked, Jason emitted a sigh that combined amazement with distaste. “Incredible,” he murmured. “Excess upon excess. My lady, if this is the style that Bronson prefers, you would have done better to approach another architect. I couldn't force myself to design something like this.”

“Wait until you talk with Mr. Bronson,” Holly coaxed.

“All right.” Jason smiled at her as they strolled together. “Lady Holly, I know it is because of your influence that I am here, and for that opportunity I thank you. But I must ask…what caused you to work for Bronson?” A note of amusement lightened his voice. “As you're no doubt aware, the family in general is ‘not pleased.’”

“My mother has informed me of that fact,” Holly admitted with a rueful smile.

Upon being informed of Holly's plans to accept employment from Bronson, her parents had made their disapproval clear. Her mother had actually questioned her sanity, suggesting that prolonged grief had undone Holly's ability to make rational decisions. Her father, however, being an exceedingly practical man, had ceased his objections once Holly had described the trust Bronson was providing for Rose's future. As the father of four daughters, three still unmarried, he was all too cognizant of the importance of a large dowry.

“Well?” Jason prompted.

“It's difficult to refuse Mr. Bronson,” Holly said dryly. “You'll find out soon enough.”

She brought her cousin into the library, where Bronson was waiting. To his credit, Jason showed no sign of intimidation at the sight of the brawny man rising from his massive chair. As Holly knew from her own experience, meeting Bronson for the first time was nothing if not memorable. Few men possessed his powerful larger-than-life presence. Had no one ever told Holly a single thing about Bronson, she would have instinctively known that he was a man who shaped not only his own fate, but the destinies of other men.

Meeting Bronson's sharp black gaze directly, Jason shook his hand. “Mr. Bronson,” he said in his frank, friendly way, “let me thank you at once for the invitation to your estate, and for the opportunity of showing you my work.”

“Lady Holly is the one you should thank,” Bronson replied. “It was her suggestion that I approach you.”

Holly blinked in surprise. Something subtle in Bronson's manner had implied that her suggestions, her opinions, held great value for him. To her consternation, the implication had not escaped Jason Somer's notice. He threw her a quick speculative glance, then returned his attention to Bronson.

“Let us hope that I've justified Lady Holly's faith in me, then,” Jason said, hefting the bundle of drawings a bit higher beneath his arm.

Bronson indicated his wide mahogany desk, which had been cleared, and the architect spread his drawings over the polished surface.

Though she had decided to remain neutral while viewing her cousin's work, Holly could not prevent a pleased exclamation as she leaned over the plans. With its romantic gothic overtones, the house was charming but sophisticated, with an abundance of windows—long sheets of what seemed to be undivided plate glass—to bring the landscape “inside.” Large main rooms and airy conservatories would provide spectacular settings for parties, but there were also wings that allowed privacy and seclusion for the family.

Holly hoped that Bronson would appreciate the design's unpretentious style, and that he would not make the mistake of thinking elegance was synonymous with heavy embellishment. She was certain that he would at least be pleased by the abundance of modern technology, including running water on all floors, a large number of water closets and tiled shower-bath rooms, and “hot walls” to give warmth and comfort in the winter.

Bronson showed no expression as he stared at the plans, only asked a question or two that Jason hastened to answer. In the midst of the inspection, Holly became aware of someone entering the room. It was Elizabeth, dressed in a smart rose-colored riding habit trimmed in scarlet. The clothes, with their simple but dashing cut, and the feminine froth of white lace at her throat, were especially becoming. With her black curls tightly braided and topped with a scarlet hat, and her dark, heavily lashed eyes, Elizabeth looked young, fresh and exotically alluring.

“I couldn't resist having a look at the plans before I went out…” Elizabeth began to say, but her voice faded as Jason Somers turned and bowed. Quickly Holly made the introductions, watching with pride as Elizabeth returned Jason's bow with a perfectly executed curtsy. With the initial greeting concluded, they paused to study each other in a moment of brief but electric curiosity. Then Somers turned back to the table and focused his attention on a question Bronson had posed. He seemed not to notice Elizabeth at all.

Puzzled by his apparent indifference, Holly wondered how he or any other healthy young male could fail to be captivated by the girl's dazzling looks. As the girl joined them at the table, however, Holly noticed that Jason's gaze returned to Elizabeth in a rapid but thorough sweep. He was interested, Holly thought with well-concealed amusement, but he was clever enough not to show it.