He couldn’t help his grin. “Fair point. However, I’m on my way to Ettesmere Park,” he explained as he came closer to her. “My traveling coach has broken an axle, and my driver said that was the nearest home.”
Quite frankly, he was hot and sweaty and wouldn’t mind the opportunity to escape the heat. But though he’d been walking and walking, he still hadn’t managed to find a manor house or even a cottage.
“I am from Ettesmere Park,” she said promptly as she resumed picking wildflowers, coming closer to the fence where he’d paused. “It belongs to my uncle, but Grandmother lives there currently.”
Oh, thank goodness.
“Excellent.” The English accent in children was especially fascinating. Oliver rested a gloved hand on the upper rail. All around him, summertime insects buzzed, and birds chirped as they went about their work-a-day business. “Would you be kind enough to point me in the right direction? My throat is parched, and I could do with a cup of tea before attempting my alternate plans.”
“When it is hot like this, I rather prefer lemonade to tea.”
He didn’t have a preference at this point, but his temporary companion was so fresh-faced and willowy—all limbs yet—that he didn’t mind lingering for conversation. Children were always the most honest of creatures. “I don’t doubt it.” Needing the respite from the exertion, Oliver set his valise at his dusty boots. “I had no idea the summers would be this warm in England.”
“Are they not wherever you are from?”
“Oh, indeed they are sometimes. And when the weather is like this, thunderstorms roll through.” Virginia summers could sometimes prove sweltering and humid. “I expected England to be different.”
“I’d like to think all the places in the world aren’t that different, really. We are all alive and wish for the same things. We all must eat food in order to stay alive. The need for water, understanding, and love is the same as well.” There was a certain amount of wisdom in what she said. “Apologies. Mama says I ramble. Where are you from?”
“The state of Virginia. Uh, it’s in America.”
“That is quite far from here.” She nodded. “That is why you sound different.”
“I suppose it is.” For a few seconds, he wondered what his accent sounded like to her, but then dismissed the thought. “Do you enjoy picking flowers?”
“Not particularly. I’d rather leave them in the fields, and I don’t like it when bugs tumble out and crawl on me.” She again glanced at him, and Oliver grinned at the slight revulsion in her expression. “But my mother enjoys having pretty things around the house, so I do this for as long as the flowers are in season.”
“That’s a nice way to honor your mother.” If she took after her mother at all, then the woman must be beautiful indeed. “Where are my manners? I’m Mr. Oliver Mattingly. I’m the American ambassador to England, here on holiday for a bit.” He must be desperate if he’d been reduced to blathering to a child.
“Hullo, Mr. Mattingly.” When the girl smiled, she was a veritable angel. “You may call me Hannah. Hannah Winterbourne. My family and I are at Ettesmere Park through at least the end of summer because Grandmother wished it.”
“I see.” Even though he didn’t. “You’ve spoken of a mother. Can I assume your father is also here?”
“No.” The smile faded from her face. In its place came a frown that held so much grief he could nearly feel it pouring from her. “Papa died several years ago. I was only a child then so don’t remember it much, but my aunt died around then too. It makes this time of year… difficult.”
“You have my condolences.” That was too much to have resting on one’s shoulders at that age. “My own mother died when I was about your age. My father expired around the time yours did. I have no other family, unfortunately.”
Why he’d told her that, he had no idea.
“I don’t suppose any of us can escape death, no matter where we live.” The pronouncement was much too deep and intellectual for any child to have. She bent down and plucked another bloom. “But here we are. At least I’ve only lost a few people from my life. Mama has lost her father, a sister-in-law, and two husbands.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So am I. Sometimes she’s very sad, so I bring her flowers hoping she will smile again.” Before he could respond, she spoke. “I miss having a father about and feel I was cheated out of that experience. Though I have two uncles, it’s not the same, and sometimes I don’t wish to tell my secrets to them.”
“That’s understandable.” Why she apparently felt comfortable telling him things was beyond his ken, but he wouldn’t break her trust. “Perhaps your mother will marry again.”
“I hope so, too, but Mama can sometimes be stubborn.”
“All of us can at some point.” He grinned. This was the most refreshing conversation he’d had in quite a while. It certainly was more honest than entertaining heads of state or stuffy peers from around England.
“Are you married, Mr. Mattingly?”
“I’ve never had the opportunity.”
Speculation lined her expression. “No good with the ladies?”
Her penchant for plain speaking left him amused, but he bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing lest she thought he made jest of her. “I suppose not. The spectacles do me no favors, I’m afraid.” He pointed to the silver wire-rimmed lenses. “To say nothing of the fact that though an ambassador sounds like an exotic title, the wages for such are rather modest to those ladies searching for a well-heeled match.”