“Come inside,” he said smoothly, inclining his head at the house. “I’ll have Rona take your dress to your room. Do you need it steamed?”
“Rona?” Becca walked up the steps.
“The housekeeper.” As if by magic, she appeared. A fifty-something lady, by the look of her. She gave Becca a warm smile and took the dress from Daniel.
“There’s sweet tea and cookies in the day room,” she told them. “Would you like me to make some sandwiches?”
“Not for me, thank you. But the cookies sound delicious.” Becca returned her smile.
“We’re fine. Thank you, Rona.” Daniel gave her a nod.
“Well, let me know if you change your minds. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” She gave Becca another smile – and maybe a little scrutiny, too – then turned to carry the dress away.
“Is your mom here?” Becca asked him.
“She’s at the salon in town. Said to give you her apologies, but she’ll be back by five.” Daniel put her case down. “Would you like a tour of the place while we wait?”
“I’d like that very much.”
He was casual today. In a grey t-shirt and washed out jeans, his
hair its usual messy glory as he raked his hand through it. “Well, you’ve seen the hall,” he said, leading her down the wide corridor. Her shoes clacked against the marble tiles. “At the very end is the kitchen and scullery. That’s where you’ll find Rona if you need her. She’s always happy to cook, so if you’re hungry, go see her.”
“I will.”
“Through here is the drawing room.” He opened a heavy oak door, taking her into an oversized living space, filled with what looked like antique chairs and tables, with heavy silken drapes framing the Georgian windows. “And through that door,” he walked over, pushing it open. “Is the dining room.”
“The scene of tomorrow’s duel at dawn.”
His lips twitched. “We’ll be using our wits instead of pistols, but yeah, that’s where I’m meeting Nina and Lawrence.”
Becca followed him around the rest of the house, taking in the beautiful artwork, the polished antique furniture, and the maze of rooms that led from one to another. “How long has your mother had this place?” she asked him, as they emerged back into the hallway. “Didn’t she live with your father in the Jackson-Carter house when he was alive?”
“You remember. Very good. And yes, we lived there when we visited Charleston. But this house is from my mother’s side of the family. She inherited it when her own mother died. She made this her Charleston residence when Lawrence took over the family estate.”
“That must have been hard for her to leave.” Even though this place was huge.
“I imagine so.” Daniel’s voice was dry. “But she didn’t get a choice.” He inclined his head at the stairs, pressing his hand against Becca’s back as they walked up the wide staircase. “My mother’s suite of rooms is in there,” he said, as they passed a closed door. “Including her office.” They turned a corner, past more doors. “These are bedrooms. Family ones, originally. Now they mostly house old furniture and art.”
He pushed his hand against another door, stepping through. “And this is the guest wing. Where we’ll be sleeping.”
It smelled fresh, as though it had just been cleaned. But there was an emptiness in the area that wasn’t present in the other parts of the house. As though it was barely lived in.
He opened the first door. “My room,” he murmured. She looked over his shoulder. Inside was an oversize bed and modern furniture.
He continued down the corridor, past two more doors. “And yours,” he said, when they reached the final one. He pushed the handle down and walked inside. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, bleaching the cream carpet to a paler white.
“It’s a long way from your room. Is she worried I might steal your virtue?” Becca teased.
Daniel grinned. She’d forgotten how heartbreaking his smile was. When he was in Scotland, he probably left broken hearts scattered all over the highlands. “Maybe she’s worried I might try to steal yours.”
“Will you?” She looked at him, a smile playing at her lips. He swallowed hard, his throat undulating.
“It’s tempting.”
Her heart did a little leap. She could feel the electricity flowing between them, making her skin heat up. He said nothing, his dark eyes wary as he scanned her face.
“Are you afraid of me?” she whispered, trying to work out his emotions.