That particular topic caused Natalie to grit her teeth, reminding her of the conflict between their two nations that had begun in 1812 and ended very recently. Too many of her fellow Americans had died due to encounters with English ships, and it had served to enhance her dislike of the British.

The post chaise turned off the main road and passed through a set of open iron gates. Earlier, Clayton had informed one of the outriders they were to go straight to the estate rather than stop in the village of Whitnash to drop off his passengers as originally planned. Now, the vehicle proceeded up a drive that wound through a vast wooded parkland.

“Welcome to Oak Knoll,” he said with an inscrutable glance at her.

The early spring landscape was as stark and bleak as her heart. This was where she and Leo would part ways. Natalie fervently prayed she’d be allowed to stay long enough to help him settle into his new life.

She sought to assuage her somber mood by sliding her arm around the boy, drawing his sturdy little form close to her side. “We’re here, darling, we’re almost at your new home,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his sweet head. “It’s the end of our long journey.”

Leo leaned into her trustingly, but only for a single poignant moment. Then he wriggled free to press his nose to the window. “It’s all woods. Does my grandfather live in a cabin?”

The duke gave a low chuckle. “Hardly. Oak Knoll is a house so enormous you may get lost when playing hide-and-seek. But never fear, I’ll show you around the place. There it is now, you can see it through the trees.”

The boy knelt on the padded seat to peer through the front window. His eyes resembled big blue saucers. “Look, Miss Fanshawe! It’s a castle!”

“So I see.”

Situated on a low hill, a great gray fortress loomed ahead of them, complete with turrets and crenellated battlements and towers at either end. Oak trees crouched like trolls around it, poking the dark fingers of bare branches at the sky. Masses of dead ivy, brown from the ravages of winter, trailed over the stone walls. Only the rows of mullioned windows and the columned portico kept the place from looking like an evil wizard’s citadel.

Scoffing at her own grim fantasy, Natalie strove instead to imagine the house in the fullness of summertime with flowers blooming and the trees covered in leafy green. The exercise did little to erase her trepidation, though she was glad that Leo didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

While the boy stared in rapt awe at his new home, the duke leaned forward, his granite eyes commanding her attention. “I must ask, Miss Fanshawe. Is Godwin expecting your arrival?”

“I wrote to him late last summer,” she murmured, “and again in December, but I never received a response. I can only presume the war interfered with the mail.”