The room was immense, with a separate sitting area in addition to the curtained bed. Arrayed before the large fireplace were a plush chaise lounge and a pair of Chippendale wing chairs. For refreshment, decanters of brandy and port rested on a side table, while on another table, between two tall windows, stood an ornate silver cup embellished with intricately carved roses.
“Is that why the room is called the Chalice Chamber?” she asked curiously, indicating the cup.
“The very reason. That fancy silver “twas said to be a gift from Queen Elizabeth herself to the first Baron Sinclair.”
While the housekeeper made a quick tour of the room to check that all was in order, Vanessa went to the window and looked down. Evidently the three-story manor was made up of a vast central wing with two side wings surrounding a garden courtyard. To her surprise and delight, she discovered that the courtyard was ablaze with roses, and that the terraced gardens seemed to stretch far into the distance.
?
??How beautiful,” she murmured involuntarily.
“Indeed it is,” Mrs. Nesbit seconded. “His lordship has a way with roses, that he does.”
“His lordship? You can’t mean the present Baron Sinclair.”
“I do, my lady.”
“Damien Sinclair?”
“None other.” Mrs. Nesbit grinned. “These gardens were but a shadow of their present glory before he took an interest in them. You might be surprised to learn that botanists and scholars regularly come to study here, my lady, and famous artists as well. Most times in the summer you can’t stroll down a path without tripping over a stranger sketching or painting.”
“I confess, I am exceedingly surprised.”
“Well, “tis true. His lordship even has a strain or two named after him by some highbrowed horticulture society, not that he sought the honor. In any event, roses have been in the family since the Crusades.“
Vanessa remembered seeing the roses on the Sinclair coat of arms displayed on the coach door.
“If you will permit me, my lady, I’ll fetch warm water for you to wash with and light a fire to keep away the night chill. Would you like your tea served in the parlor or drawing room, or would you prefer a tray be brought here?”
“Here would be fine, but first I should like to meet Miss Olivia.”
“Certainly, my lady. I’ll take you to his lordship directly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Nesbit.”
“Did an abigail accompany you, my lady?”
Vanessa shook her head. “No, I have no abigail with me.” While a lady’s maid would have lent her a measure of consequence and respectability, she could ill-afford personal servants all her own, nor did she want to take them away from her mother or sisters.
“If you wish,” the housekeeper offered, “I shall send Miss Olivia’s personal maid to help you dress for dinner.”
“That would be most appreciated.”
When she was alone, Vanessa turned back to the window to gaze down thoughtfully. Damien Sinclair was turning out to be a man of unexpected depth. And she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or wary.
When Vanessa had freshened up, the housekeeper escorted her to a bedchamber in the main wing. The door had been left open, but the curtains were drawn and the room was dim, just as she’d been warned it would be.
In the faint light, she could see Damien sitting beside the bed, silently contemplating the invalid lying there. When Vanessa rapped softly on the door panel, he rose with a murmured “Come in.”
His features remained expressionless as she entered, as if he had clamped down on any show of emotion. His tone of voice, however, held a hint of anger. “Lady Wyndham, please allow me to present my sister, Olivia.”
When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Vanessa could make out the young woman on the bed. The Honorable Olivia Sinclair was more striking than beautiful, with the same ebony hair and elegantly chiseled features as her older brother. Yet she had none of the intensity or vitality or aura of tightly leashed power that Damien Sinclair had in such abundance. Olivia’s complexion was pale, her expression wan and listless.
Her heart aching for the girl, Vanessa smiled gently and stretched out her hand. Asking “how do you do?” would have been totally inappropriate, so she said instead, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Olivia made no effort to take the proffered hand. She merely turned her head away.
“Olivia…” Lord Sinclair said in a low, warning voice.