The entryway to the Park was filled with men. Men with pails and crates and satchels, each more surprising than the next, each attempting to gain the attention of Jane, who, standing several steps up the staircase, was doing her very best to play the part of unflappable butler. Of course, it seemed that few butlers in the world had ever had to deal with half of the residents of Dunscroft in their main hall.

Descending, she came to Jane’s side as the butler called out, “Good sirs, if we could all have a moment of quiet while we sort things out, perhaps it would make all our lives slightly easier?” She lowered her voice to a mutter. “Certainly it would help me to think.”

Isabel asked, “What on earth? ”

Jane turned to her. “It’s about time you arrived.”

“Who are they? ”

“From what I can tell,” Jane said, pointing out the men in question as she spoke, “that boy has three crates of candles and more on order; those two have been sent to repair the western fence; that one is here to tune the pianoforte—did you even know that the things required tuning?—the man in the topcoat is waiting to meet with you so you may select a coach to go with your new carriage horses, which are already in the stables—Kate is beside herself in elation; that one is delivering several casks of wine for the cellars; the two women cowering in the corner, poor dears, are here to outfit all of us in new clothes; that man with the spectacles is a banker, requesting an audience with ‘the lady of the manor’; the circle of giants standing with Rock—Lord knows where they came from—are here to patrol the edges of the property; and—” She peered around the fencers. “Oh, yes. There are also a half-dozen roofers requesting access to the attic.”

Shocked, Isabel blinked at the congregation, still not entirely understanding. “What are they all doing here?”

“Music man!” Jane called, drawing the attention of a quiet, wizened craftsman nearby. “The ballroom is through that door there.” She turned back to Isabel. “They say Lord Nicholas sent them.”

It took several seconds for the meaning of Jane’s words to sink in.

“All of them?”

“It is my experience that merchants don’t just show up with free wares, Isabel. Yes. All of them.”

Mute, Isabel looked out over the collection of people in her foyer, overwhelmed. When she finally looked back to Jane and Lara, she could say only one thing. “He sent me roofers.”

Jane was busy instructing the man with the wine to the kitchens. Turning back, she said, “It appears you’ve married a madman.”

She laughed then. “He sent me roofers.”

It was the loveliest thing that anyone had ever given her.

Lara smiled broadly. “He certainly knows the way to your heart, Isabel.”

The tears threatened once more.

If only she had been brave enough to let him in.

Isabel took a deep breath, willing herself to remain strong. Smoothing her hands down her wrinkled skirts, she said, “What do I do?”

“I think you should set those roofers to work.”

Just before dusk, Isabel stood on the front steps of the manor house, watching as the last of the workmen made his way down the long drive from Townsend Park. They had worked for several hours on the roof, promising to return the next day with the materials needed to repair the more significant damage.

As the tradesmen faded into the night, she sat on the wide stone steps, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cool evening breeze as she looked up at the darkening sky, wishing that everything were different.

Wishing that she were more courageous.

She had been so terrified of allowing herself to love him, so afraid that her relationship with Nick would mirror the relationship of her parents. She had been scared that if she were to love him, she would place herself at risk of becoming her mother—of pining away here in Yorkshire waiting, desperately, for him to return.

And so she had not allowed herself to admit to loving him. Yet here she was, pining away in Yorkshire waiting, desperately, for him to return.

It seemed that she had turned into her mother anyway.

But he was not her father.

He had, in one day, done more for Townsend Park than her father had ever done for them. And it was not just the roof, or the fence, or the carriage. It was the way he so clearly cared about the Park. About Minerva House. He’d known the land and the girls for less than a week, but was committed to their well-being. To their future.

Because he was committed to Isabel’s happiness.

She understood that now.

She sighed into the night.

If only she weren’t too late.

“It has been a rather remarkable day, hasn’t it?”

Rock’s voice came from the darkness, and she turned toward him as he came around the base of the stairs, making his way to her. “That is one way of putting it,” she said with a forced smile.

“Your security team is in place. They seem a good group of men. I shall introduce you to them tomorrow. We’ve created a makeshift headquarters in the old woodcutter’s cottage. It will need some basic repairs, but I will speak to Nick about that when next I see him.”

Her chest tightened at Rock’s certainty that he would see Nick again. She wished that she could be so sure of the same. “This all happened so quickly.”

Rock did not speak for a long while, looking out to the dark grounds. Then, finally: “He began the process when the rain stopped. When I went into town to fetch our belongings, he bid me speak to the constable about honorable men who might be interested in work like this.”