“There are probably a few mythology books in the library,” he said, making a mental note to look for them on one of the nights when he was prowling the house in search of something constructive to do.

“Did your father commission the garden?” she asked, running a hand over a balustrade of the stone pavilion.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I can ask the old head gardener, Mr. Charing, next time I see him.”

“I’d love to know who designed it.”

Sophie was curious about everything, asking scores of questions about the grounds and the house. Unfortunately, Reese had few answers.

His brother, Edmund, was the one who had been groomed to take over the estate. The one who knew everything about their family’s history and heritage. The one who’d been unfailingly honorable, noble, and true.

An unexpected wave of grief crashed into Reese, nearly taking him out at the knees.

As if she’d sensed the sudden change in his mood, Sophie turned to him, concern marring her forehead. “This has been lovely, but perhaps we should return to the house and brew some tea.”

Heart pounding, Reese glanced up at the monstrous manor house and wondered why he’d never noticed that it resembled a tomb. A dark, desolate crypt that could swallow him whole. He shuddered, feeling as though a thousand maggots writhed across his skin. And though a sliver of his mind knew that none of that was real, he also knew he couldn’t go inside.

“I’ll walk you back,” he choked out, yanking at his cravat. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather stay outside for a while.”

“Why?” She reached toward his arm, then quickly drew her hand back, as though realizing he was covered in thorns.

Sweat broke out on his brow. “Sometimes, especially when I haven’t slept in several days, it feels as if the walls of the house will collapse on me. I know it doesn’t make any sense.” Not to a sane, good-hearted person.

“Actually, it makes perfect sense to me,” she said softly.

“It does?”

She nodded serenely. “Being close to nature always calms me.”

“I’ve never seen you be anything but calm,” Reese said, winding his way through the garden and leading her toward the house.

Her face clouded. “You know what they say about appearances.”

An image came to his mind, unbidden: Sophie dancing with her beau in Lady Rufflebum’s ballroom. She and Lord Singleton had looked perfectly matched. Perfectly happy. Perfectly in love.

But what if they weren’t?

Reese mentally slapped himself. He had no business questioning Sophie’s relationship. Jesus, he was pathetic for wishing for even one second that she might be miserable with Singleton.