“I’m sorry. I’m sure Ethan told you I have too many opinions and a habit of expressing them too often.”
“Your opinions have been most welcome and insightful.” His smile softened the steely gray of his eyes, a feature Ethan was beginning to recognize as Timothy’s stamp of approval. “It’s clear you come from a world that appreciates the past as my family has.”
“The past is the springboard and classroom of the future. It’s a disservice to refuse to learn from and appreciate it.”
Intelligence had never looked so pretty.
“Smart girl.” His keen gaze shifted to Ethan. “Good business sense and wisdom. I’d hire her to work for me if I hadn’t just sold my business.”
Timothy’s pointed gaze needled an idea to life in Ethan’s head. Why not? Hadn’t Nora mentioned how much she’d like to combine her love for history with her love for hospitality?
Throughout the whole dinner conversation, as Nora’s creativity and innovative sensibilities shone, the thought took root and sprouted possibilities, not only for his professional future, but his personal one. His grin widened with the thought. Maybe there was a way she could do both of the things she loved most…and stay with him in the process.
Well, it was as clear as the matchmaking mania in her mother’s eyes that Lydia Steele did not like Nora, but Nora couldn’t figure out why. Lydia won the beauty contest hands-down, with long, lean legs—as opposed to Nora’s short, skinny ones—and that gorgeous blonde Barbie hair.
But every time Ethan looked away, she fired an expert sneer in Nora’s direction
Timothy Steele oozed English charm and intelligent banter—and he’d even indulged Nora’s incessant questions about England and the Steele ancestry—but as the dinner conversation progressed, so did the depth of Lydia’s frown.
Nora shook off the discomfort and focused on the spectacular beauty of Timothy’s ancestral home. As any good genealogy-loving person should, Timothy shared the history of the five-hundred-year-old home, the change of hands over the generations, and his disappointment in never having an heir of his own.
After dinner, Timothy retired and the stoic butler escorted the rest of them to the drawing room which looked exactly as she thought an English drawing room should appear—mounted deer on the wall and all. She relaxed as much as the wingback chair allowed, her eyelids heavy and feet tired. Most of the Janeites attended the festival for a few days and then returned to their normal lives, but Nora’s gift included the entire ten days. She’d attempted to fill every second, and every second pressed in on her aching head. Today had included a day trip to tour a local manor house and gardens and ended with Pride & Prejudice the Musical.
A flutter of papers from Lydia’s direction pulled Nora out of her stupor and back into the conversation. “My uncle may wax eloquent and sentimental in retrospection, but he had hoped this transition would breathe new life into his beloved inn, offering our guests more than old-fashioned furnishings.” Lydia’s gaze flitted to Nora. “And sentimental activities. He’d actually considered reconstructing the inn to a more modern option. Something akin to what can be found in London, Birmingham, or Leeds.”
Ethan sat back in the plush red chair, studying her with those intense eyes of his. Man, he had a great profile. “I’ve reviewed all of my uncle’s discourse with your uncle and I don’t recall any ideas of reconstruction.”
“You will concede, of course, that since I am a part of this family, I may be privy to information you are not. And in recent history, my uncle and father have discussed a new approach to increasing revenue for the inn. Because of our uncles’ friendship, you’ve shown the utmost respect by keeping Uncle Timothy on your board, so I’m certain you’ll hear his innovative ideas.”
“I still don’t understand—”
“Please.” She offered him a consolatory smile and touched his knee.
Whoa there. Shushing Ethan like a child? Nora’s Appalachian pride straightened her spine to fight-status.
“Here is what I advise. As you will have a more long-distance approach to management, I would be delighted to pair with my uncle to oversee the administrative aspects of your changes to the inn.”
“I have every intention of being heavily involved in the—”
“Of course, you do.” Her smile turned as syrupy as molasses and Nora’s stomach tightened in warning. Lydia Steele was trouble. “And the funds Keller provides can revolutionize the Elliott Elizabeth Inn by giving it a more up-to-date and London-sleek look, both of which my uncle and I can supervise from nearby.”
Nora finally reached her limit of condescension. “I don’t mean to contradict you, Miss Steele, but I don’t think people come to Bath for a London-experience. If they want high-rises and modern buildings, they don’t have to go far. From what I can tell, people come to Bath for a different option, something away from the bustle of city life.” She raised her palms, shrugging. “I’m not a city girl, I readily admit, but the inns my family owns collect about eighty percent of their revenue from repeat visitors. And the one thing those visitors love most about their stay is the unique atmosphere.”
“Country life?” Her brow twitched upward.
“The mountains. Something different than their usual routine. And you have a beautiful atmosphere already in place. I can tell Mr. Steele loves the inn as much as my family love our B&B. He’ll want the next owners to enhance the beauty of what’s already there—not necessarily change it.”
“I don’t really understand why your opinion matters, Miss Simeon.” She waved her pretty red fingernails toward Nora. “You arrived in England for the Festival and almost magically found yourself attached to the owner of the inn in which you stayed. Now you’re offering business advice?” Her attention flipped to Ethan. “And none of this feels odd or suspect to you?”
Nora blinked from the sting. “I’m not going to justify your implication with a response, Miss Steele.” She held the woman’s gaze, unwilling to kowtow. “However, you are right in the fact that I have no real influence in anyone’s decisions here, although if you respected your uncle a little more, you wouldn’t try to undermine him.”
“How dare you imply—”
Lydia made to rise but Ethan paused her movements with a raised palm. “Nora came to offer friendly advice.” He flipped his gaze to Lydia. “And I should remind you, Lydia, I am taking your uncle’s counsel and wishes out of respect to him, not obligation. The papers have been signed. The power has shifted and so have the choices.”
The loss flickered in her eyes, but she refused to bend beneath it, stabbing another glare in Nora’s direction. “I see.”
The accusations stung, along with the scowl, and Nora’s weary body begged to return to another time and another place—preferably one minus the nasty blonde with a not-so-hidden agenda.
Nora stood. “Miss Steele, you mentioned earlier about your uncle’s driver lending his services to take me back to the inn if you two needed to continue your meeting for longer?”
A smile bloomed on the porcelain face. “I shall see to it straight away.”
Of course, you will.
Ethan approached her, palm to her arm. “You’re tired.”
“Yes, and it sounds as though you’re going to be here awhile.”
He tugged her a little closer. “I’m sorry for Lydia’s behavior. She’s disappointed and tense about the transition. She and her uncle don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, and I think her employment might be in jeopardy.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want to get a courtside view of her tantrum.” Ethan’s grin smoothed over her frustration. “But I’m sure releasing your family’s historic home to new hands can’t be easy. It would break my heart to sell Simeon Ridge.”
“With all those smarts firing off in your pretty head, I don’t think your family will lose Simeon Ridge any time soon.” He leaned closer and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she melted into his warm, heady scent. “
Would you have some time to talk tomorrow? Maybe dinner. Alone?”
For the rest of my life. “I think so.”
“The driver is ready for you, Miss Simeon.” Lydia’s voice sounded from the doorway but Nora’s gaze returned to Ethan’s.
“Around seven?”
She backed toward the door. “In the lobby.”
His smile rewarded her. “Good night.”
Chapter 7
Lydia’s friendliness returned as soon as Nora left. In fact, she became so friendly, Ethan grew increasingly uncomfortable with her closeness. He understood how she might try to endear herself to him in order to influence him or even keep her job, but this was not the way to do either.
Thankfully, Timothy arrived from upstairs before Ethan was forced to rudely disassociate himself from the woman. The kind man, cane in hand, lowered himself into the conversation like an angel of mercy, and dismissed Lydia for the evening.
After Lydia left, he sat down across from Ethan and folded his hands in front of himself. “I’d like you to stay with me, Ethan, for the next few days, so that we can finalize everything.”
“Why the urgency?”
He lifted his gaze, face unreadable. “I’m dying. The family doesn’t know and I don’t plan to tell them until I must, if at all, but since you seem so keen to do the right thing with my inn, I don’t want to waste time.”
Ethan drew in a breath at the news and leaned forward, encouraging Timothy to elaborate. In the short time he’d known Timothy Steele, he’d grown to like and respect him. A thoughtful, intelligent man with a kind heart, from all he could tell. “And you’re telling me?”
Timothy nodded. “I informed your uncle by phone this evening and I know you’ve taken such pains to include me in decisions because of my friendship with him, but”—his voice lowered—“I don’t wish for you to foster the same connection with my niece.”
Ethan’s gaze slid to the door Lydia had disappeared through.
“She has no love for the inn or the history of this family. My brother took great pains to keep her happy her whole life as the only heir to either of us, and I’m afraid it’s left her quite spoiled and selfish.”
Ethan sat back, comprehension dawning. “So, you employed her at your brother’s request?”
“Yes. She’s had difficulty keeping employment.” He frowned. “And staying out of unsatisfactory relationships. She’s fine for running errands and taking dictation, but she inflates her knowledge and understanding of the business, I’m afraid, and inserts many of her own designs without my approval. I was quite careful to keep her in the dark regarding your uncle’s purchase until the very last moment.”
“And your brother?”
“I’ve informed him of my request that we make a clean break from the inn’s future so the new owners have no ties.” He tilted his head. “It’s no love lost for him.” The man’s smile brightened. “And I’ve taken some of my funds and placed them in a trust for renovations and restoration of the inn’s historical presence. I hadn’t planned to do so until I met you myself and saw your care of my property…your property.”
“Timothy, that’s too generous.”
“Codswallop. I’m a selfish old man who wants the legacy of my family to be recognized in brilliant array. Something I believe you will accomplish.”
Ethan noticed it now—the gaunt look and otherworldliness of his expression. An incomprehensible sort of peace. His father had the same countenance near the end. Faith’s hold, his father called it.
“Don’t look so grave, Mr. Keller.” Timothy tapped his cane on the floor. “I have lived a good life and my inn is in excellent hands. I have no doubt.”
The compliment warmed Ethan, but he parried with a little levity. “And you’ve repaid me by taking all three of my board members away.”
A light glimmered to life in the man’s eyes. “I think you already have a possible replacement in sight.”
Ethan’s grin unfurled and he nodded. “I think you may be right.”
“You know, my wife helped me work the inn our whole marriage. I managed the business and she managed the beauty of the business.”
Ethan lowered his head as his smile softened. “She added the color.”
“Indeed.” Timothy nodded. “Beautiful color and joy to my monochrome world.”
Ethan raised his gaze to Timothy Steele, honored to accept any wisdom the man wanted to share. “I’ll be happy to stay, Timothy.”
The man’s grin spread. “Good. I’ll have the inn send your luggage over at first light.” He tapped Ethan’s shoe with his cane. “And thank you.”
Lydia Steele pressed her body against the wall outside the study, leaning close enough to catch pieces of the conversation between her uncle and Ethan Keller. The dark shadows in the long hallway of the dingy old house kept her blanketed in darkness, hidden away from the eagle-eyed butler. She gritted her teeth. He’d be the first to go when this house became hers.
Ethan’s presence had threatened her world since Uncle Timothy shared the news of selling the inn. She’d hoped to win his favor, or maybe even something more, but the American slag ruined those plans.
Her uncle’s admission whispered through the room. Dying? Hmm, well that would explain a great many things. Despite her best efforts at a proper somber expression, her lips pinched ever-so-slightly upwards. She’d have run of the house and the money while keeping her hand on the pulse of the inn.
But as the conversation continued her confidence took a downhill turn. Putting some of her money in a trust? And keeping her from working with the inn? She gripped the ornate wood paneling behind her, a steady heat branching through her chest and neck before planting solidly in her face.
Her mind spun with a need to react. Ethan planned to take Nora Simeon as her replacement, did he, and win it all? Well, she’d see about that.
After a late breakfast that included fake smiles and a list of unnecessary errands from her uncle, Lydia made an excuse to drive into the city. Women were easily scorned, especially with such little acquaintance as Ethan and Nora had, so maybe she could put off Nora enough to remove her from the equation altogether. Maybe.
She approached the clerk’s desk at the inn. A young man. In university, she’d guess, with a horrible mop of unruly hair. “Pardon me, do you know if I left my keys here last night?”
He scanned the desk. “No, Miss Steele, I don’t see them.”
She forced a sweet smile. “Might I have a look?”
The clerk stepped out of the way, acknowledging the power in her family name—or the power it held for the moment. How long would it take for the transition to impact her influence? When would the employees of the inn stop showing respect for her connections and parentage? How long would it take for them to forget who she was?
A small stack of notes stood on the counter and she carefully thumbed through them until her gaze landed on the one she wanted. With a deft hand, she palmed the note and crinkled it to nonexistence. She couldn’t change her own fate perhaps, but she could certainly leave a lasting impression on the fates of others.
Nora checked her watch and did the math for the English time-change, making sure she had it right. She’d gotten to the lobby a few minutes late after freshening up following her Beastly Bath walking tour and now, over half-an-hour later, no Ethan.
Of course, the two of them weren’t actually dating.
No obligations or expectations of anything more.
And this was all a whirlwind romance, ending when she flew home on Saturday. But still…he didn’t seem the sort to bail on her without good reason.
She stared at the tip of her silver-toed, pixie-heels and worried her bottom lip for a few more minutes, then walked around the lobby for a few more before making her way to the clerk’s desk.
“Excuse me.”
The clerk was a young man, probably early college-age, with the best beach hair she’d ever seen on a man before. Wavy, golden-blond, hanging to his chin. She coul
d see her little sis, Gwynn, swooning right now.
“Yes, ma’am?”
The accent inflated her smile. Gwynn would be a goner in two-seconds flat. “My name is Nora Simeon and I’m in the Crimson Room on the second floor. I was wondering if there were any messages for me?”
The clerk—Baron according to his nametag—offered a well-polished smile and rifled through some papers at the desk. “No, miss, I don’t see anything.”
A small hollow feeling bubbled in her stomach. “Okay, thanks.” She reached for her phone to check for a text, but there was nothing. Of course, the inn’s Wi-Fi hadn’t been the best, but Ethan knew that already so he’d have found another way to leave a message.
Was he hurt? A niggling curiosity sent her back to the clerk. “Could you tell me which room Ethan Keller is in? He told me, but I can’t remember.”
Baron stepped to his computer and tapped away. After a pause, and a quirk of his golden brow, he looked up. “I’m sorry, Miss Simeon. It appears that Mr. Keller checked out of his room this morning.”
The hollow feeling expanded with an icy splash. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, miss.”
She paused with her hand on the counter, taking in the news through a thick fog of disbelief. Despite every solid internal monologue she’d given herself on keeping Ethan Keller in the realm of harmless flirtation, the sting of reality bit into her with unexpected force.
“Thank you,” she whispered, releasing her hold on the counter and walking toward the stairs, pulling her heavy feet along with her heavy heart.
She’d been out of flirting practice for a while, so maybe she missed the subtle clues, but Ethan didn’t seem like the kind of guy to disappear. Even if this holiday romance ended as she’d planned—with a sweet kiss, a wave from the airport security line, and maybe a bouquet of roses—he seemed like a man who would say ‘goodbye’.
She needed to put on her pajamas, hold her hard-back copy of Pride and Prejudice, eat chocolate, and watch a crying-movie.
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