“I’m honored.” Sophie breathed out, realizing she’d been holding her breath. He must have really loved his mother, and she was touched.
“I have a feeling we will be happy together in a wonderful partnership,” John said.
His words threw cold water on the moment. Sophie had gotten caught up in the romance of the diamond, the handsome man, and the proposal. She’d almost forgotten this was a sham, a fake marriage—nothing more than a business transaction.
“I’m sure we will,” she said, feigning tiredness and leaning back in her seat.
A few moments passed in silence. Maya sighed in her sleep, and Sophie patted her back.
“Here we are—Haven House is just up the hill. You can see it from here.” John Granger pointed out the window of the limo.
“Oh, my. It’s...gargantuan.” Sophie couldn’t think of another word to describe Haven House. It crouched on the hill top above them—a mansion of dark, red bricks from what she could tell. Dark blue shutters gleamed against the brick. The place had a look of solidity and ancientness about it, as if it could have been part of the hill it rested on. The sheer number of windows and floors were arresting. Sophie guessed there were at least four floors to the mansion.
“It was built in 1865, so it’s just over a hundred years old now,” John said.
“It’s quite magnificent.” Sophie drank in the hill and the prairie grass around the house as well as the buildings alongside it. She couldn’t make out what they might be, but she wanted to explore when she could.
“I think so. You see why I didn’t want to lose it. My great grandfather, Ulysses Granger, had it built. He was a wealthy man. He made his fortune in shipping and then moved out here to get away from the smog of New York City.” He shrugged.
“I think I can see why. It’s cold, but it’s beautiful.” Sophie drank in the hills with snow on top. The lower ground had no snow at the moment, but the temperature was below twenty degrees at the moment.
“Yes, it is. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. In all my travels, I still find the Black Hills the most compelling place I’ve ever been. I think it’s the mix of history and the land.”
They began the ascent up the hill to Haven House. Sophie clutched the seat with one arm and the baby with the other. “It’s a steep climb, isn’t it?”
“It is, but you get used to it. It’s not very fun with snow, though,” John said, smiling.
“I’d think not.” Sophie didn’t want to think about it. She was glad she wouldn’t have to drive it.
The road wound on, curving as it went through sporadic clumps of pine trees and hardwoods. The house shimmered ahead.
“I can’t wait for you to see the inside of the house, though it might take some getting used to. It has its own personality. Everything is just a little shabby and worn.”
“I can imagine it would have its own type of atmosphere.” A shiver of foreboding ran through Sophie, and she hugged Maya tighter in her arms.
* * * *
The servants were lined up in the foyer as they entered. Sophie had the feeling they would have stood outside if the day hadn’t been so cold and dreary.
The house was cold and dark as if the heating weren’t used as it should be, but perhaps it was just the draftiness of an old house. Sophie wasn’t sure, but she shivered, glad she had worn her heaviest wool coat. Everything was mahogany wood with swirling tapestries in maroons and golds on the walls and rugs on the floors. A painting of an imposing man faced her on the opposite wall of the entryway. His gaze was dark and piercing, as if he were looking through the portrait—very much alive and watching everything. Several rooms branched off from the foyer, but she couldn’t see much beyond their doorways. A sweeping curved staircase was only a few yards away. “Who is that?” She whispered to John as the servants watched, pointing at the painting.
“That’s my great grandfather Ulysses whom I mentioned who had Haven House built. It seemed only right to have his painting there. There are other family portraits throughout the house,” he said, nodding with a look of pride. He turned to the servants. “This is Sophie Banister, my fiance. We are to be married as soon as possible—hopefully by the end of March,” John said, his voice strong and sure. “Please make her welcome, and see to her needs and wants.”
Sophie felt heat rise in her face due to all of the curious stares, but she pasted on a smile. Maya wriggled in her arms. Each servant introduced himself or herself. There was a butler, Mr. Garson and his wife, the housekeeper, Mrs. Garson, as well as the cook, Mrs. Wells, and the nanny, Ms. Roche. Sophie was surprised to see how young she was—no more than twenty-five.
“Would you like me to show you the nursery and tend to Maya for a bit while you get settled? I will be here overnight. My day off is Sundays, but I can be available as necessary for you. I live here. And call me Carla,” the nanny said, long, dark eyelashes sweeping over her cheeks. She really was gorgeous—at the level that she could be mistaken for a European model.
“That sounds wonderful.” Sophie was eager to see the nursery and her bedroom.
The butler and John took her bags upstairs.
“The nursery is this way,” Carla said. Her voice was soft, melodious. She led Sophie up the winding staircase to the second floor. “It’s at the end of the hallway—sort of secluded from the other rooms—except for mine, yours, of course, and the master bedroom.”
“I see.” It was overwhelming—the house and all the new people she was meeting.
Carla led her into a lovely, spacious room
