Page 107 of Project Duke

“It’s moved, darling,” said Calliope. “Everyone’s baggage has arrived. We can finally see our home in all its glory!”

After Nathaniel and Calliope had made up last August, he’d stopped caring so much about whose money they were spending, his or hers. He just wanted to give the best home possible to Calliope and his sisters, and so he’d agreed to do a proper floor-to-ceiling renovation of Roxburgh, which had taken almost a year. Calliope, the girls, and he had moved to Grandhampton Court during the process, to give Calliope plenty of fresh air and quiet to cope with her pregnancy, and for Violet to recover in peace. Grandmama had moved in with them to help Calliope and to continue guiding them in the art of manners and navigating the social life of the ton. The girls adored Grandmama.

“Right,” said Nathaniel, “let us go, then.”

They passed through the grand wrought iron gate, which opened onto a carriage driveway that, with its sweeping grandeur, could easily accommodate multiple carriages in a manner befitting royalty. The tall brick walls enveloping the estate were freshly plastered and washed, standing as steadfast guardians of the property.

Fresh gravel crunched pleasantly under his feet as he walked, having been raked to perfection. No weed dared to mar its surface. Surrounding the estate, what had once been an overgrown forest had been transformed into a manicured garden. The house itself, previously an eyesore, was now the pride of the street. The stonework of its classic architecture was now meticulously restored, each stone seemingly imbued with the dignity and grace befitting a home of its stature.

Freshly painted in an elegant shade of white, the window frames seemed to glow in the daylight. Every glass pane was flawlessly transparent and intact. The roof over the three-story building had been immaculately repaired.

The twin stone lions that flanked the grand staircase leading to the double doors had been carefully restored—one brandishing a newly carved tooth, the other sporting a skillfully reconstructed ear. Both the double doors and their regal knocker had received layers of fresh paint. The knocker itself was securely affixed, ready to announce the arrival of esteemed guests. And above the door, the restored Kelford coat of arms served as an enduring symbol of the family’s legacy.

They climbed the stairs towards the double doors. Mrs. Nicholson and female servants stood along the right side of the hallway. The male servants lined up on the left, a row of ten footmen with Joshua as the underbutler. At the head of the line of footmen stood Foster, the butler whom Nathaniel had known his whole life and who had served in Kelford Manor all these years. The old man’s face lit up with pride and a hint of joy under the obligatory mask of a loyal servant.

“My lord,” he said. “My lady. You are very welcome.”

He gave a bow and opened the grand double doors before them.

Nathaniel’s heart drummed hard in his chest as he and Calliope stepped into the entrance hall.

The once barren navy blue walls now showcased Penelope's paintings, handpicked by Calliope, alongside sweeping landscapes brought over from Kelford Manor. Nathaniel stood in front of one of them. “Papa bought this one in Delft,” he told Calliope and the girls, feeling tears prickling his eyes. “He took me with him. I was eight, and it was my first sea voyage. I fell in love with the sea then, and it was one of the reasons I enlisted with the navy when I had to find an occupation.”

“I love hearing that about Papa,” whispered Hazel, and she gently rocked the baby while looking at the painting with soft eyes.

Calliope nodded. “They’re beautiful.”

Violet leaned forward and read the name. “Evening in the Meadows by Aelbert Cuyp. I read about him. He’s well known for his river scenes in the golden hour.”

“I can’t wait to have the whole family here!” exclaimed Poppy, running through the hallway with her arms outstretched. “Penelope would go mad from delight seeing all this art.”

At this loud outcry, the dogs ran after her, the cat jumped off the pillow and ran after them, and Violet followed the crowd.

Nathaniel chuckled. They may be sixteen, but they were still his little sisters.

“Girls!” hissed Hazel as Ethan started to stir. “Shh, darling,” she shooshed and walked with him, rocking him, to the sitting room.

Nathaniel and Calliope smiled at each other. He looked at the painting from Delft again, taking her hand. “Papa negotiated so well then,” he said. “That trip was perhaps the single time when I didn’t feel like he was constantly disappointed in me. Like he taught me things.”

He felt Calliope’s warm eyes on him. “Do you still resent him?”

He chuckled and smiled at her. “Strangely, no. None of the events in our past have changed, and yet, a year ago, I despised him, resented him for torturing me and my sisters. Today…I have forgiven him. Perhaps the requirements in the will were a gift that he gave me, even though it was hard to see. Because it led me to you. And gave us our little man.” He gently cupped her cheek. “And I became a better man for that. So, no, Papa, wherever you are, I hold no more resentment. Just forgiveness. And love.”

Calliope grinned at him. “I’m proud of you.”

Nathaniel grinned back and thought of little Ethan playing in this house now that it was so beautifully restored. And maybe he would even have brothers and sisters to play with. He remembered running through this space as a six-year-old, his mama chasing after him as he slid across the marble floor with his shoes, carried by the force of his run.

The floor was, once again, resplendent, the once-faint pattern now vivid and freshly polished. The intricate designs seemed to come alive as they caught the light from above.

The sweeping staircase had been fully restored, every balustrade fitted perfectly in place, the wood gleaming with fresh polish. And flanking the staircase, the ornately carved niches were no longer empty. Some of the statues and vases had also been sent from Kelford. One or two were Papa’s particular pride as he had gone to Greece himself hearing there had been an excavation and wanting to make sure he got them. Perhaps, Nathaniel thought, it was not Papa’s pride as much as his care to leave such treasure to his son and for generations to come after him.

Others were picked by Calliope, vases showing flowers, and the Greek statues of beautiful and soft-formed women with full lips and curls around their heads and fabrics flowing in the wind around their curves. They were sensual and feminine and yet strong and so like her.

Hanging from the middle of the ceiling in the hall, a chandelier of crystal and gold was Calliope’s particular pride. It dazzled, casting radiant prisms of light across the room. Wall sconces, fitted with new glass covers, brightened the hallway with a warm, inviting glow.

They continued their tour. The sitting room, the drawing room, the dining room, the ballroom, the library, every room grand and beautiful, ornate with gilt, bustling with artwork, intricately carved furniture, and soft carpets. Everything was in perfect order and waiting for the family to arrive and fill it with lively chaos. Calliope’s touch was in every room, with her whimsical and yet harmonious choices, but so was his touch and reminders of his ancestors as she had asked him and the girls what they would like to have in every room. It was fresh and yet timeless, modern and yet rooted in their common history.

When they climbed the stairs and proceeded to the room that would be theirs, Calliope gasped in awe. Sunlight bathed the room, filtered through vast windows, painting everything in a soft, radiant light. Long yellow curtains framed the windows, pooling at the bottom in a display of quiet elegance. Paneling stretched high up the walls, carved in gorgeous designs and painted turquoise.