“How do you do?” Regan said quietly, still puzzled by these people. They were far from her idea of what Americans were like.
“Won’t you come to the house?” Nicole said. “You must be tired, and I doubt if Travis has let you rest much.”
To that, Travis snorted and Regan held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t say something crude.
When Regan merely followed Nicole docilely, Nicole smiled. “It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
Regan was looking about her, trying to understand just what sort of place she was in.
A big, broad, blonde woman came running toward them, her skirts lifted high above her ankles. “Was that Travis what just come in?” she shouted before she even reached them.
“Yes, and this is his wife Regan. Regan, this is Janie Langston.”
“Wife?” Janie asked, surprised. “He did do it! That Travis is a wonder. He said he was going to England and bring back a wife. Honey,
” she said, putting her hand on Regan’s arm. “You got your work cut out for you being Mrs. Travis Stanford. I hope you got courage enough to stand up to him.”
With that, she started running toward the wharf.
Chapter 12
“WHO ELSE LIVES HERE?” REGAN ASKED NICOLE.
“Quite a few people, really. There are field workers, weavers, the dairy people, gardeners—all the people needed to run a plantation.”
“Plantation.” Regan whispered the strange word. They were entering a long row of box hedges, and her view of the buildings around them was obscured. “Travis said you were going to have a baby, and the children said something about two babies.”
A lovely smile crossed Nicole’s face. “Twins seem to run in Clay’s family, and four months ago I had two boys. Come inside, and I’ll gladly show them to you.”
Looming above them was a large brick house, about the same size as Weston Manor. Regan hoped shock wasn’t showing on her face. Of course there were wealthy people in America too, and of course some of them would have mansions. It was just that in England people spoke of America as being so young that there hadn’t been time to really build much of anything.
Inside the house, the rooms were startlingly lovely, large, spacious, the furniture upholstered in silk, the wallpaper hand-painted, portraits on the walls. Fresh-cut flowers graced tables and desks.
“Shall we go into the drawing room? I’ll bring the children down.”
Left alone in this room, Regan was further amazed at the elegance of it. A Sheraton desk with delicate inlay was against one wall, a gold-framed mirror above it. Facing it was a tall cabinet of leather-bound books.
She’d only known Weston Manor, and by comparison the English house was shabby and poor. Here everything sparkled with cleanliness and care. There was no chipped woodwork, worn upholstery, or scuffed surfaces.
Her attention left the room’s furnishings when Nicole returned, a baby in each arm. At first Regan was afraid to hold either one of the children, but Nicole persuaded her she could do it. Within moments Regan had the little boy smiling and cooing back at her, hardly noticing when Travis entered and sat beside her on the sofa. They were alone in the room.
“Think we could make two at a time?” he asked quietly, taking the baby’s hand and letting him grip his finger.
The expression on Travis’s face as he watched the baby was one of joy. “You really want a child, don’t you?” she asked.
“For a long time,” he said seriously, then added with his usual bluntness, “I never much wanted a wife, but I could surround myself with children.”
Frowning, Regan wanted to ask him why he’d saddled himself with a wife now, but she knew the answer. He wanted the child she carried. Later she would show him that she was of more use than for breeding stock. Together they’d work and build up his farm. Perhaps it would never be as nice as the Armstrong plantation, but someday it could be very comfortable.
“What do you think, Travis?” Clay asked from the doorway, his chest expanded several inches in pride, Mandy by his side, Alex behind him, and the second baby in the crook of his arm. Regan thought he looked as happy as anyone alive.
“Clay,” Travis began. “How did those new cows work out? And did you have any mold on last year’s hay?”
As the two men seemed to want to talk business and both of them were happy with the babies, Regan handed Travis the baby she held and stood up. Travis showed no qualms about taking the child, unlike Regan who’d been afraid she’d drop him. “I think I’ll find Nicole,” she said, and Clay gave her directions to the kitchen. Outside the room she heard Clay say, “She’s prettier than I ever thought you could get,” to which Travis only snorted.
Her head held high, she went through the flower-bedecked hallway and out the back door, turned left, and headed for the kitchen, which was in a separate building. Inside the big room everyone was bustling about, and Nicole, her arms covered in flour, was directing all of it. When a young girl accidentally dropped a basket of eggs, shells and all, into a bowl of batter, it didn’t upset Nicole at all. Two children, dressed plainly but cleanly, ran through the building, and Nicole just caught a pail of milk before it overturned. Even as she righted it, she looked up, saw Regan, and smiled warmly.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she came forward. “I’m sorry I had to leave you, but I wanted to see that a nice supper was prepared for you.”