Page 16 of Impossible
“I understand Stonehill was once a castle,” she said, hoping he might finally engage in cordial conversation.
“Yes.”
She’d take a one-word answer over his signature grunts. It was a good start, anyway. “Do you know which of your ancestors built it?”
“None of them. The first Lord Warfield was given the property by Charles the Second after his restoration. My ancestor was elevated to the peerage and awarded this estate for his loyalty to the crown. The castle was in ruins by then. The first Lord Warfield tore the remainder down and built a new house, which my great-grandfather almost completely demolished and rebuilt. That’s the house that stands today. Some of the castle stone was used for the cornerstones.”
She bit her tongue before noting that might be the most he’d ever said to her. And without irritation. “How fascinating. Does the house sit where the castle did?”
“No. The castle was up on the rise south of the current house. It wasn’t terribly large—just a small keep and the surrounding walls. There are a few stones still there. If you look hard enough and use some imagination, you can see some of the wall.”
A thrill of anticipation shot through her. “I’d love to see it. I have plenty of imagination.”
“That has absolutely nothing to do with your errand here.” There was his disagreeability. She knew it had to emerge sometime.
“No, but do you really expect me to work all day, every day?” That was precisely what she’d done, even yesterday on Sunday. “I don’t do that at my regular position.”
They left the drive, and he steered them onto a dirt track. The day was warm with a light breeze, and the scent of wildflowers was in the air.
“Where are we going first?” she asked.
“Ah, there’s a farm just up ahead.”
She suspected he didn’t know the names of who lived there. “What do they grow?” She waved her hand, anticipating that he didn’t know that either. “Never mind. I’ll pester them with my questions instead of you. What else do you know of Stonehill Castle?”
“Nothing. I’ve shared the extent of my knowledge.”
“Aren’t you interested to learn more?”
“Not particularly.” He slid her a glance. “You seem quite fascinated by the past.”
“I love history. There’s something comforting about knowing that your family has roots in a particular place, that the land is part of your ancestry—your blood, even.”
“It’s not, no matter how it may seem with entailments. Stonehill Castle didn’t belong to my family. I have no connection to it whatsoever. Honestly, I feel no connection to the current estate either.”
Ada held her breath. She’d never imagined he’d share such sentiments! She wanted to ask why, but feared he wouldn’t answer, even if he’d been more loquacious this morning than in any of their previous encounters. So she’d ask him something he could answer the way he preferred—with one word. “Is that because you didn’t expect to inherit?”
There was a beat of silence—save the birdsong coming from their right—in which she felt the air shift. Had he drawn in a breath?
“Yes.”
“Yes, you didn’t expect to inherit?” she clarified.
“My brother should have been the viscount. I’m a soldier, not a landowner.” He grunted. “At least, I was.”
“I’m sorry about your brother,” she said softly. “And your father. My father died when I was ten.”
“That can’t have been easy.”
“No. My older brother went to sea then, leaving my mother and me with my three younger sisters.” She glanced at him, seated on her right so that the scarred left side of his face was completely exposed to her. She noticed he wore his hat at a slight angle, as if he could shade that side and prevent people from seeing his disfigurement. What would he say if she told him she wanted to touch it, to feel the ripples in his flesh? It looked as though he’d sustained a burn, but what kind?
“You seem to have come out all right,” he said gruffly.
“So far.” But the path hadn’t been easy. She’d been foolish and paid a price. Still, she’d survived, and that was more than she could say for her mother and one of her sisters. The terrible old guilt threatened to grip her, but she held it at bay. No good would ever come of that.
Pushing the dark thoughts away, she lifted her face to the sky, closing her eyes as she inhaled. “I love summer, don’t you?”
“No. I prefer the cold and rain.”
