Calder Promise (Calder Saga 8)

“Not really. If it’s a long driveway you want, come to the Triple C. Ours is forty miles long.” Laura informed him, amusement in her smile.

The lane made a sweeping turn, and the centuries-old manor house suddenly stood before them, a towering two-and-a-half stories, with rambling wings and a scattering of gables. Bathed in the yellowing light of the late-afternoon sun, its native limestone had a golden glow to it despite the weathering by time and the elements.

A castle it wasn’t, but the scale of Crawford Hall was on the grand side. It could have been imposing, even intimidating, except for the thick vines that climbed over the exterior wall of one wing, providing a subtly homey touch.

The limousine rolled to a stop near the recessed front entrance. Moving with a practiced swiftness that showed no haste, the chauffeur exited the car and came around to open the passenger side door.

Tara was the first to emerge. While she waited for the others, she lifted her gaze to survey the old manor house. When Laura joined her, Tara murmured, “It reminds me of some aristocratic dowager, a radiant beauty in her day but a bit worse for wear now.”

Not quite as critical, Laura said, “It still has a certain charm about it.”

“Charming is not an adjective that should be applied to a titled estate.” Tara was firm in that opinion.

“This dowager merely needs a face-lift,” Laura stated with a wickedly teasing smile.

“How true,” Tara murmured, fully aware that her own looks were due in no small part to the skill of a surgeon.

Both women were careful to ignore the continued activity on the other side of the limousine. Max’s valet had retrieved the wheelchair from the trunk and with Boone’s assistance was transferring Max from the car to the chair.

“I wonder where our host is?” Tara mused aloud.

“Be honest,” Laura chided. “Aren’t you also wondering just a little bit about how old he is and whether there is a current Lady Crawford or not?”

Tara laughed, and there was a slightly girlish sound to it. “Maybe just a little,” she admitted.

The whirr of the wheelchair motor signaled the approach of the rest of their party. Laura turned as Max rolled out from behind the car.

“How come you two are still standing here?” he demanded, then motioned Boone toward the recessed entrance. “Go let them know we’re here.”

As Boone started toward the oversized door, it opened, and Sebastian stepped out, looking every inch the country gentleman in a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows.

“I see you arrived in good order,” he said in greeting. “You had a pleasant journey, I hope.”

“We did,” Laura confirmed, feeling that familiar tingle of attraction when his gaze met hers.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Max grumbled.

“Now, Max,” Laura began in light reprimand and left it at that when she noticed the sharp way he was studying Sebastian. There was something in his look that said he had the man’s number. It gave her pause.

If Tara observed his expression, she gave no sign of it. “Shall we go in?” she said to Sebastian. “I’m eager to meet our host.”

Sebastian hesitated. “I fear I have a confession to make.”

“He’s not home,” Tara guessed at once, disappointment clouding her expression.

“Oh, he’s home,” Sebastian assured her. “But I misled you a bit in Rome when I claimed a nodding acquaintance with the current earl of Crawford. Strictly speaking, it was the truth. I merely neglected to mention that I am the earl of Crawford.”

Laura realized at once that this was what Max had known. It would have been like him to check out his host before he arrived. She laughed, and there was a touch of relief in it that Max’s knowledge had turned out to be something so innocent.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Amusement riddled her voice, removing any demand from it.

Sebastian’s smile had a wry t

wist to it. “I expect the position is new enough that I’m not completely comfortable with it.”

Tara regarded him with utter amazement. “Your announcement has been such a surprise that the proper way to address you has completely flown from my mind. Is it ‘Your Lordship’?”

“Sebastian will do,” he replied.