Page 34 of My Dearest Duke

Quail Hollow House

Thirty Minutes Later

The shy blush of dusk spread crimson, violet, and bronze hues across the horizon as the coach turned down Quail Hollow House’s rutted drive. A wave of unpredictable homesickness cramped Vanessa’s lungs, and she blinked back unexpected emotional tears.

So many forgotten memories scampered to the forefront of her mind: Gabriel and Kingston laughing and slapping one another on the back as they shouldered each other to get through the front door first. She and Madeline making daisy chains while plump little Rebecca tried to help.

Oh, how she’d missed Canterbury’s simple quaintness.

One could draw in a lungful of air, and no pungent odors or coal dust assailed one’s nostrils as it did in London. Spring was upon the land, and soon wildflowers would carpet the meadows where newborn lambs would caper and frolic. The fat buds covering the fruit trees would burst into full blossom, and songbirds’ calls would fill the air.

At long last, she was home. Such peace and tranquility infused her that she believed, at that moment, marrying Kingston was the wisest thing she’d ever done. And in that same moment, a part of her wished it might be forever and not a limited-term arrangement.

They got on well, and she liked him.

More than liked him if she were completely candid.

She slid him a sideways glance, his handsome profile indecipherable. He wore the same tobacco brown coat she’d seen him wear several times before. Where once it might’ve hugged his wide shoulders like a second skin, there was room to spare.

Now she knew why.

The muscles flexing in his thighs proved he was still virile and strong, however.

They’d agreed his siblings wouldn’t know their marriage was a business arrangement that would end in six months. Regret and something undefinable pitted in her stomach at the deception. But truth be told, she concurred with Kingston that his family should be spared further angst.

And as theirs would be an amicable dissolution of marriage, Vanessa prayed the residual damage would be minimal. In the meanwhile, she intended to do all within her power to utilize her wealth to ensure the Barclays would never want for anything again.

Allowing a private, satisfied upward bend of her mouth, she transferred her attention to the stately house less than half a mile away—her former home.

Helmstead Gate’s tall, regal Tudor-style chimneys rose high above the landscape, vigilant sentinels keeping watch over the mansion and lands. Only a loyal, skeletal staff saw to the grand manor’s upkeep, over three times Quail Hollow House’s size.

To her knowledge, Gabriel had only visited Helmstead Gate infrequently since purchasing his commission in the army. Yet, based on the reports provided to her each month, the place was kept in tip-top shape by the well-paid servants.

Vanessa hadn’t been able to bring herself to sell the estate or reside there after inheriting it when Gabriel died. How could she? The manor and grounds had been his heritage, and they were her last connection to their father, as well.

Selling Helmstead was as inconceivable as selling her precious brooch.

She’d promptly terminated Mr. Dobkin’s services after Mrs. Dorrian-Lane had returned the gem to her. The investigator had the audacity to demand Vanessa pay him for the rest of the month. To which she’d replied, he could return the funds she’d already paid him since he had made absolutely no progress in finding the jewel himself.

Her focus gravitated to Quail Hollow, and her previous sense of satisfaction faltered.

Perhaps if Quail Hollow was truly as decrepit as Kingston alluded, the entire family might remove themselves to Helmstead. Now, there was an idea that held true merit. At least until the refurbishing was complete. She would wait to assess Quail Hollow House before making any such suggestion, however.

Vanessa pressed a hand to her tummy as Kingston handed her down from the coach. Honestly, she was quite apprehensive about meeting her new brothers and sisters. Despite his insistence at Fortuna that she meet them, he’d changed his mind for some reason.

It had taken a great deal of persuading to convince him to introduce her as his new wife before shuttling her off to the inn for the duration of her stay.

Which, of course, she had absolutely no intention of doing.

However, could she oversee the improvements? Refurbishing? New wardrobes for his family? No, she needed to be nearer than Canterbury, three miles away.

He seemed to be unaware that Helmstead Gate had passed to her. There was much they didn’t know about one another. Vanessa stifled the sigh building behind her breastbone.

By accompanying Kingston to Canterbury, she could spend her funds on improvements, furnishings, linens, and so on, leaving him free to do whatever he deemed most important with the monies she’d advanced him.

With her faithful servants in tow, Vanessa was positive the house could be made inhabitable in short order. If that proved impossible, well, stately, vacant Helmstead Gate awaited. On the morrow, she’d send a discreet missive by way of Leroy and inform the staff to prepare the house.

Just in case things went awry here.