“Your friends in North Carolina?”
He nodded. Leaning against the sideboard, he said, “I expect you to make him feel welcome. In fact, you can give him the grand tour of the property. I’ve got a meeting at the bank this morning.”
“Bank? Why are you going there?” Anxiety rose up to choke her. “Is there a problem?”
His brows pulled together over his nose. “You’re acting strangely this morning. Perhaps you need to eat your breakfast instead of peppering me with questions.” He started for the door, pausing but for a moment to address Duncan. “We’ll talk later.”
Duncan dipped his head. “Aye, sir.”
When they were alone again, he motioned with his fork and winked at her. “I recommend the flapjacks.”
She stiffened. “I don’t need your recommendations, Mr. McKenna. Cook has been with us since I was eleven.” Stalking over to the sideboard, she filled her plate without paying attention to what she was doing, her thoughts focused on one thing—her life had just gotten more complicated.
When she took the seat across from him, he blinked in surprise. “A hearty appetite, I see. Wouldn’t have guessed it. But then, I learned a long time ago not to judge people on their appearance.”
The arrow hit home. Sipping her tea, she wished he’d leave.
“Does Cook have a name?”
The cup rattled as she replaced it in the saucer. “Of course she does.”
“What is it?”
Caroline raked her memory and came up empty. The buxom, wiry-haired woman who prepared their meals had always been referred to as Cook. “If you’re so interested, why don’t you ask her?”
He smirked, his gaze condemning. Duncan McKenna thought she was a snob.
“You don’t know it. To you, she and the other staff aren’t people. They’re simply fixtures here to make your life easy.”
His condemnation shouldn’t sting. He was a crude, ill-educated stranger who was clearly envious of those who’d achieved success.
“You don’t know anything about me, Mr. McKenna. Who’s the one judging now?”
Surging to her feet, she tossed her napkin over her plate and opted to escape. These days, trying to protect her father’s reputation consumed all her energy. She didn’t have the capability to cope with an infuriating employee on top of everything else.
He’d driven her from her breakfast. Not exactly gentlemanly behavior. Nor was it wise to provoke the boss’s daughter.
Duncan scraped his chair back and hurried into the high-ceilinged, papered hallway in the center of the house, catching up to her on the veranda that ran the length of the rear exterior. Pots of cheerful yellow blossoms lined the white railing and flanked the steps. White wicker chairs were arranged to take advantage of the pastoral view, verdant fields that gave way to forest framed by majestic, blue-toned mountains.
“Caroline, wait.”
On the crest of the steps, she slowly pivoted. Her delicate features were arranged into a controlled mask, but he could see the rapid pulse leaping at her neck. She wasn’t as nonchalant as she’d like him to think.
“I don’t recall giving you leave to address me by my first name.”
“You were right back there. I don’t know you and have no business commenting on your character.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You didnae touch your food. I’ll leave you alone to enjoy your breakfast.”
She regarded him with a less-than-friendly gaze. Despite her attitude, she presented a vision that, if a man wasn’t careful, could blind him to her obvious faults. Her sapphire-blue dress, a perfect choice for her fair complexion, draped over her figure like a glove. Her white-blond tresses were arranged in a sophisticated style, parted down the side and swept into a tight chignon at the back of her head. There were no diamonds today, only a ribbon choker about her neck and a blue-and-white cameo nestled in the dip of her collarbone.
“I lost my appetite.” Presenting her back to him, she pointed to the stables situated close to the house. “Let’s get this over with.”
A dignified figure rounded the house and made to intercept them. The epitome of studied elegance, the lady was an older, more pinched version of Caroline. Her eyes weren’t nearly as stunning, the color a washed-out, watery blue, and her blond hair was threaded liberally with silver. He didn’t need Caroline’s introduction to make the connection. Louise dismissed him with a single glance.
“Caroline, what are you doing?”
“Father asked me to give Mr. McKenna a tour of the property.”
“We have to plan our menus for next week.”
“Can we do that after lunch?”
Her mouth puckered and lines fanned out above her upper lip. “I suppose I can rearrange my schedule.” Squinting, she fussed with her daughter’s sleeves, plumping the fabric. “This color is all wrong for you.”
Pink rose in Caroline’s cheeks. “No one is going to see me in it, Mother.”
He caught the implication. No one that counted, himself included. As a hired employee, his opinion about such things didn’t matter. They viewed him as unimportant because they assumed he was poor and uneducated. Bitterness surged. He’d happily left this sort of narrow-minded attitude behind in Boston.
“I told you to stick to pastels.”
“We’re boring Mr. McKenna.” Caroline’s smile was brittle. “We’ll discuss this later.” Head held high, she started for the nearest stable entrance.
“Excuse us, Mrs. Turner,” Duncan said.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she disappeared into the house.
Duncan entered the long building. The air was sweet with the scent of hay. High windows had been opened to let the breeze circulate. Dust motes danced in the square of light spilling through the open entrance.
Speaking in brisk tones, Caroline showed him the tack and equipment rooms on his left. A sturdy ladder led to a hayloft that extended the length of the building. The cobblestones beneath their feet were worn to a shiny patina and swept clean. Box stalls flanked either side of the wide center aisle. Only about half of them were occupied. One by one, she introduced him to the ten horses they owned. When she got to the last one, affection lightened her voice.
“This pretty lady is Rain.” Pulling a carrot from her pocket, she fed it to the mare and ran her hand lovingly along its neck.
Duncan found himself captivated by the pure joy Caroline radiated and the way it softened her. He wouldn’t have pegged her for an animal lover. His conscience pricked him. The Turners weren’t the only ones capable of making judgments.
Joining her, he greeted Rain, taking in the healthy state of her dapple-gray coat and black mane. “She’s yours?”
“Yes. I was unhappy when we first moved here from Charleston. My father bought her in hopes of appeasing me.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
Old enough to have strong ties to her former home. As much as he preferred his current life, there were things—and people—he still missed.
“Did it work?”
Her rose-hued lips rolled together, pressing down. “Rain is my one bright spot.”
Before