AllFreeNovel
Share Us
No, surely not, he told himself fiercely. Clara was much too smart to fall for a frivolous fellow like him. Yet there was still a hint of unease in his chest when he topped the rise and spied the great manor house down below.
Danesford was like a slumbering giant cradled in the rolling hills of Synne, all red brick and gables and mullioned windows glistening in the sun. He pulled his mount up, taking it in. Peter had told him of the place in his letters, Lenora adding small, fanciful sketches to go along with her husband’s sparse prose. Yet nothing had prepared him for the majesty of it all. It was not an ostentatious beast, taking over the countryside. Rather, it had been built with the landscape of the Isle in mind, using the grandeur of the surrounding vistas to enhance its already impressive beauty.
For a blissful moment excitement overrode his worries. Just a few minutes more.
His horse seemed to sense his mood. It tossed its head in impatience, pawing at the ground. Quincy chuckled, patting its neck. “Looking forward to a stall and a great quantity of oats, are you? Very well, have your head then.” And with that he kicked the horse on.
It responded with eagerness, bolting forward, tearing down the grassy hill. They careened down the front drive, stopping before the great double doors. At once a footman rushed out, taking the horse’s reins as Quincy dismounted.
“Make sure he’s spoiled rotten,” he said with a grin. “Goodness knows he deserves it for getting me here so speedily.”
As the man led the gelding away, Quincy turned to bound up the front steps—
—and stopped short. Clara stood in the doorway, her eyes wide, her cheeks stained a becoming rose.
“Quincy,” she said.
Her soft voice caressing his name sent fire to every inch of his body. “Clara,” he said.
And that was all he seemed capable of saying. For a long moment they stood staring at one another. He felt as if he were parched, and the sweetest, most delectable wine was before him.
An imperceptible male voice sounded behind her. She started, her flush deepening and spreading down her neck to the high cobalt bodice of her gown. “Yes, Yargood,” she said over her shoulder, “please make certain His Grace’s room is ready. And please inform my family that we’ll be joining them shortly.”
And then her eyes were back on him, sending his thoughts spinning off again. She smiled. “Quincy, please come in.”
He took the wide stone stairs two at a time, not bothering to hide his eagerness. They had parts to play, he told himself. Time to act the besotted fiancé.
He would not worry himself by looking into why it was so damn easy to do.
“Hello, my dear,” he said with a grin. “You’re looking lovely this afternoon.”
And she did, all fresh and blushing, the dark blue of her gown enhancing the rich sable of her hair.
“It’s the sea air,” she replied with a smile.
“It does do wonders.”
“That it does. Why anyone would prefer London is beyond me. But tell me about your journey,” she continued as she divested him of his outerwear, placing it on a table by the front door. “You made good time.”
It was innocuous conversation, friendly and easy, with no hint of nervousness or shyness. It seemed his concerns were unfounded. Thank goodness. Her reaction to his kiss had been one thing; physical passion did not necessarily indicate a strong regard. But he would not want her hurt by this for anything.
He breathed a silent sigh of relief, purposely ignoring the twinge of regret in his chest.
“I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be feeling the effects of being so long in the saddle,” he replied with a grin. “But pushing through was worth it. I had forgotten how much I love the Isle. Oh, and to see all of you, of course.”
She laughed, leading him through the front hall. “The Isle holds a unique power over the people who visit her. But we were excited yesterday to learn of your arrival. Peter was certain you would wish to visit your property before coming here and would be another fortnight at least. Which, I must say, we’re all waiting anxiously to learn of. I’m not the only one who’s perturbed by your need for secrecy.”
“All in good time,” he said with impressive gravity. Inside, however, he was rubbing his hands with glee. He could not wait to see their reaction when he told them.
“Hello, Ashford clan,” he announced when they reached the drawing room, speaking over the hum of conversation. The response was immediate and satisfying, the air filled with exclamations and greetings and the thump of Lady Tesh’s ever-present—and often dangerous—cane as she demanded his attention.
“I must say, it took you long enough,” she bit out as he bent to kiss her cheek. “I’m still put out with you for staying behind in the first place.”
“No you’re not,” he said with a wink and a grin before taking a seat close to Clara. “So tell me, how have the preparations been going for our dear Phoebe’s nuptials?”
“Oh, no you don’t,” the woman in question declared. “You won’t distract us so easily.”
Margery leaned forward in her seat. “Tell us about the property,” she demanded with uncharacteristic forcefulness.
