The Art of Inheriting Secrets(37)

“What do I know of any of it?”

“It’s in your bones.”

“Mmm. I doubt it.” I shook my head. “Have you seen that house? It’s a complete wreck.”

“Yes. But the lands earn a good income, and with enough time, anything can be fixed.”

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but today, it felt overwhelming. All of it. The mystery, the house, the possibility of not just being here for a visit but leaving my life in San Francisco behind completely. I fell back on my rote response. “I need more information before I can make any kind of decision. I don’t know where I’d live or what steps to take or—”

“You’ll rent a cottage, won’t you, and renovate one of the apartments in the carriage house.”

I laughed at his easy answers. Maybe someone else would have been put off by his bossiness, but my gut said he was trustworthy. “Why does it matter to you?”

He fixed those bright-blue eyes on my face with great intent. “Our families have been neighbors for more than four centuries. Four hundred years,” he added for weight. “Always, it was the Barbers and the Shaws, side by side. We stood in solidarity over many things and quarreled about others, but I believe our people have always stood for the same ideas—that with great wealth comes responsibility. That responsibility takes on a great deal more weight when it comes to protecting the estates, and the titles, from the greedy.” He visibly straightened. “We are charged with looking after the land, too, and none of them care a whit about that.”

“Noblesse oblige.” With nobility or high rank comes obligation. I thought of the taxi driver the very first day telling me that he remembered picnics on the grounds of Rosemere when he was a child and of the lanes filled with cottages, the lands stretching far into the distance when I looked out the window of the house. “I have no idea what to do, even where to begin, or what it means to have inherited this title. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I shall tutor you, Olivia, if you’ll allow it.”

I bent my head, suddenly overcome. “Thank you.” Taking a breath, steadying myself, I looked at him. “If I decide to stay, I will certainly take you up on that kind offer.”

“Oh, it isn’t kind, my dear. It’s an obligation.” But his eyes twinkled as he said it. “Come, now. I suppose we have to go mingle. Which is your first lesson. One must speak to everyone at the party and remember something important about each one.”

He offered his arm, and I took it, aware that he probably wished for the stability he found in my grip. “Another day, you must tell me all about your mother’s life in America,” he said when we walked down the corridor to the glass doors. “I was very fond of her, you know.”

“I’d be happy to,” I said, and then we were walking out the glass doors. It felt as if the entire company raised their eyes to the pair of us.

“Good afternoon!” the earl cried.

The murmuring faded. Women in spring dresses and high-heeled sandals and men in tidy trousers and sport coats waited. A few raised a glass in his direction.

“I know you’ve all been curious about the latest addition to our local gentry, and I am absolutely delighted to be able to present to you the Countess of Rosemere, Olivia Shaw.”

A round of clapping splattered around the knots of people. They looked at me expectantly. My brain emptied entirely, but as the pause grew, I managed to blurt out, “I look forward to meeting each of you.”

Oh, well done, you.

“That should get them going,” the earl said under his breath.

“Gossiping about my lack of a brain, I’m sure.”

He chuckled. “Not at all. Come; I’ll introduce you to a few people you should know.”

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of faces and floaty dresses and crisp slacks, handshakes and face kisses. It was a relief to find a face in focus when Rebecca swam up to greet me, her husband in her wake. “Olivia!” she cried, kissing my cheeks. “So lovely to see you!” She leaned into the earl, ever so slightly too close, and kissed his cheeks. “You haven’t met my husband, Philip.”

Philip, too, leaned in to kiss my cheeks and left a waft of leathery cologne behind. The edges of his blond hair blended thinly into his tanned neck. A golfer, no doubt. “So happy to meet you, Olivia! Rebecca told me about your lunch together and the tour of the house. Are you really going to try to save it?”

“I have no idea. Not yet.”

“It is something of a white elephant, I suppose.”

“Maybe. I’m still gathering facts.”

“Never mind. You must come to a proper supper one evening. Next week?”

“Of course.”

Rebecca squeezed my arm lightly. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded.

“Yes, yes. Nice to see you,” the earl said and nudged me along. I could tell he was tiring.

“George,” I said, realizing I could use his first name after all, as he’d asked, “I’ll be fine on my own. Wouldn’t you like to sit down for a little while?”

“Are you tiring of an old man’s company?” He raised one wild, bushy eyebrow. “You want to find yourself a husband at my garden party, do you?”

I laughed outright and saw by the twinkle in his eye that he was pleased. “No husband for me just now, thanks.”