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Authors: Victoria Alexander
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No, he had not fallen in love with Caroline and his heart had not been shattered.
It had simply cracked a little.
July 1884
Dear Gray,
I hope this letter finds you well. The promise of spring has given way to a dry, hot
summer and, in spite of the heat, there is more amusement to be found in London than
at Fairborough Hall. Therefore I am residing at the house in Mayfair for the foreseeable
future and availing myself of all that London has to offer. While it is enjoyable,
I have discovered I am not so easily entertained as I once was. The price of maturity,
I suspect.
summer and, in spite of the heat, there is more amusement to be found in London than
at Fairborough Hall. Therefore I am residing at the house in Mayfair for the foreseeable
future and availing myself of all that London has to offer. While it is enjoyable,
I have discovered I am not so easily entertained as I once was. The price of maturity,
I suspect.
I was privileged recently to attend the wedding of a treasured friend. One could tell
simply by the look in the happy couple’s eyes as they promised their fealty to one
another that there was no thought as to the appropriateness of the match but only
their feelings for each other. As it should be, I think.
simply by the look in the happy couple’s eyes as they promised their fealty to one
another that there was no thought as to the appropriateness of the match but only
their feelings for each other. As it should be, I think.
Perhaps it was the romance apparent in their union or my own history, but I have found
myself of late in an oddly thoughtful and reflective state. Do try not to be shocked
at this revelation; I have been known on occasion to be somewhat deeper than I might
appear. No doubt it will not last as I am not usually of a somber nature.
myself of late in an oddly thoughtful and reflective state. Do try not to be shocked
at this revelation; I have been known on occasion to be somewhat deeper than I might
appear. No doubt it will not last as I am not usually of a somber nature.
My failure to successfully progress from proposal to the altar has weighed heavily
upon me and I find myself examining my past attempts to wed with an unyielding eye.
I have come to the realization that I have been looking, for the most part, for the
perfect wife, the perfect future countess, a woman I could grow to love. It does now
seem that I have been going about this in entirely the wrong manner as certainly the
evidence bears out. It strikes me that love might well make all else fall into place.
Perhaps the appropriateness of the match is not as important as the needs of the heart.
It sounds so obvious, doesn’t it? And yet this simple tenet has escaped me up until
now.
upon me and I find myself examining my past attempts to wed with an unyielding eye.
I have come to the realization that I have been looking, for the most part, for the
perfect wife, the perfect future countess, a woman I could grow to love. It does now
seem that I have been going about this in entirely the wrong manner as certainly the
evidence bears out. It strikes me that love might well make all else fall into place.
Perhaps the appropriateness of the match is not as important as the needs of the heart.
It sounds so obvious, doesn’t it? And yet this simple tenet has escaped me up until
now.
I have decided to ignore the more practical aspects of choosing a wife and ignore
as well the necessity to wed, the responsibility I bear to position and family and
all else. I shall instead heed the advice I recently dispensed and follow where my
heart leads. As it has never led me before, indeed as I have never truly known love,
it does sound somewhat daunting. One wonders if perhaps I have never experienced that
elusive emotion because I am not destined to do so.
as well the necessity to wed, the responsibility I bear to position and family and
all else. I shall instead heed the advice I recently dispensed and follow where my
heart leads. As it has never led me before, indeed as I have never truly known love,
it does sound somewhat daunting. One wonders if perhaps I have never experienced that
elusive emotion because I am not destined to do so.
But that is a dreadful thought and, as I am by nature an optimistic sort, I prefer
not to dwell on that possibility.
not to dwell on that possibility.
Therefore I shall leave my future in the hands of fate and trust that one day I will
find a woman who will look at me as if I were the moon and the stars and all things
wonderful. A look that will come from her very soul to touch mine. A look I will return
and treasure for the rest of my days.
find a woman who will look at me as if I were the moon and the stars and all things
wonderful. A look that will come from her very soul to touch mine. A look I will return
and treasure for the rest of my days.
Good Lord, Gray, what has happened to me? Have I at last become a true romantic or
has there always been a romantic imprisoned within me crying for release? In many
ways, I have never had the patience to trust in fate, but my nature has not served
me well. So I will bide my time, live my life as best I can and perhaps one day I
shall find what I seek. And doesn’t that seem to be the way of it? Only when one ceases
to search does one find what has been so elusive.
has there always been a romantic imprisoned within me crying for release? In many
ways, I have never had the patience to trust in fate, but my nature has not served
me well. So I will bide my time, live my life as best I can and perhaps one day I
shall find what I seek. And doesn’t that seem to be the way of it? Only when one ceases
to search does one find what has been so elusive.
Ah well, we shall see....
Dear Reader,
In every book I write there are any number of secondary characters meant to be nothing
more than secondary characters. He (or she) appears, moves the plot along and then
conveniently vanishes. But every now and then I write a minor character who simply
refuses to stay minor.
more than secondary characters. He (or she) appears, moves the plot along and then
conveniently vanishes. But every now and then I write a minor character who simply
refuses to stay minor.
When Winfield Elliott, Viscount Stillwell, made his appearance in
What Happens at Christmas
, I knew I was in trouble. I knew I could not let this character appear in more than
a handful of scenes because it was entirely possible he would take over. At that point,
I had no intention of writing more about the characters who inhabited Millworth Manor
for Christmas 1886 or their friends and neighbors. But Winfield Elliott was a character
who refused to be ignored, no matter how hard I tried. So finally, I asked him, “What
do you want from me, Lord Stillwell?”
What Happens at Christmas
, I knew I was in trouble. I knew I could not let this character appear in more than
a handful of scenes because it was entirely possible he would take over. At that point,
I had no intention of writing more about the characters who inhabited Millworth Manor
for Christmas 1886 or their friends and neighbors. But Winfield Elliott was a character
who refused to be ignored, no matter how hard I tried. So finally, I asked him, “What
do you want from me, Lord Stillwell?”
“What does anyone in my place want? You have already given me wealth and position,
and I am rather dashing, for which I am eternally grateful,” he said in an off-hand
way. It seemed kind of insincere to me. The man was obviously trying to butter me
up. “But when all is said and done . . .” He heaved a forlorn—and entirely unbelievable—sigh.
“I’m simply a man—”
and I am rather dashing, for which I am eternally grateful,” he said in an off-hand
way. It seemed kind of insincere to me. The man was obviously trying to butter me
up. “But when all is said and done . . .” He heaved a forlorn—and entirely unbelievable—sigh.
“I’m simply a man—”
“An imaginary man.”
He ignored me. “A man looking for the one woman who will make his life complete. A
man longing for love and all the joy it will bring for the rest of my days.” His voice
rose in a theatrical manner. “I am nothing more than a man in search of a happy ending.”
man longing for love and all the joy it will bring for the rest of my days.” His voice
rose in a theatrical manner. “I am nothing more than a man in search of a happy ending.”
Oh yeah, right. “Hasn’t your tendency toward sarcasm gotten you into trouble before?”
“I’m not being sarcastic. Overly dramatic perhaps, but I am being completely honest.
And you well know it.” He flashed that wicked, irresistible smile I had written for
him. “And don’t you think you’ve put me through enough? Don’t you think being—in the
parlance of your time period—
dumped
by three different women has earned an ending better than
we shall see
? We shall see indeed,” he added under his breath.
And you well know it.” He flashed that wicked, irresistible smile I had written for
him. “And don’t you think you’ve put me through enough? Don’t you think being—in the
parlance of your time period—
dumped
by three different women has earned an ending better than
we shall see
? We shall see indeed,” he added under his breath.
“Well, we shall,” I said defensively. “I mean we will.”
He sniffed. “I deserve better.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” I thought for a moment. “I admit, you were a good secondary
character.”
character.”
“I was brilliant.”
“But they don’t always turn out to be good heroes,” I warned.
“I’m confident you can count on me.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?” I do hate to commit too quickly to a figment of my imagination.
“That will have to do, I suppose.” Again, he aimed his killer smile at me. “For the
moment.”
moment.”
I managed a weak smile of my own. I knew the man wasn’t going to leave me alone until
I gave him what he wanted. And I knew he’d win in the end. What can I say? I’m a sucker
for a perfect hero, or rather a hero who thinks he’s perfect.
I gave him what he wanted. And I knew he’d win in the end. What can I say? I’m a sucker
for a perfect hero, or rather a hero who thinks he’s perfect.
But I will make him earn that happy ending. It won’t be easy for either of us. And
along the way (in the first of the Millworth Manor series), he’ll learn
The Importance of Being Wicked.
along the way (in the first of the Millworth Manor series), he’ll learn
The Importance of Being Wicked.
And so, I suspect, will I.
Best wishes,
Victoria
In this dazzling new novel, #1
New York Times
bestselling author Victoria Alexander welcomes you to Millworth Manor, a delightful
English country estate where love is always perfectly at home....
New York Times
bestselling author Victoria Alexander welcomes you to Millworth Manor, a delightful
English country estate where love is always perfectly at home....
For Winfield Elliott, Viscount Stillwell, finding a prospective bride always seemed
easy. Perhaps
too
easy. With three broken engagements to his name, Win is the subject of endless gossip.
Yet his current mission is quite noble: to hire a company to repair his family’s fire-damaged
country house. Nothing disreputable in that—until the firm’s representative turns
out to be a very desirable widow.
easy. Perhaps
too
easy. With three broken engagements to his name, Win is the subject of endless gossip.
Yet his current mission is quite noble: to hire a company to repair his family’s fire-damaged
country house. Nothing disreputable in that—until the firm’s representative turns
out to be a very desirable widow.
Lady Miranda Garret expected a man of Win’s reputation to be flirtatious, even charming.
But the awkward truth is that she finds him thoroughly irresistible. While Miranda
resides at Millworth to oversee the work, Win occupies her days, her dreams . . .
and soon, her bed. For the first time, the wicked Win has fallen in love. And what
began as a scandalous proposition may yet become a very different proposal....
But the awkward truth is that she finds him thoroughly irresistible. While Miranda
resides at Millworth to oversee the work, Win occupies her days, her dreams . . .
and soon, her bed. For the first time, the wicked Win has fallen in love. And what
began as a scandalous proposition may yet become a very different proposal....
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Victoria Alexander’s
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING WICKED,
coming in February 2013!
Victoria Alexander’s
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING WICKED,
coming in February 2013!
Prologue
March 1887
It could be worse.
The phrase repeated itself over and over in his head like the irritating refrain to
a little-liked song.
a little-liked song.
Winfield Elliott, Viscount Stillwell, stared at the façade of Fairborough Hall and
tried to ignore the leaden weight in the pit of his stomach, a weight that had settled
there since the moment late in the night when he and the rest of the household had
been roused from their beds by cries of fire.
tried to ignore the leaden weight in the pit of his stomach, a weight that had settled
there since the moment late in the night when he and the rest of the household had
been roused from their beds by cries of fire.
“It doesn’t look nearly as bad as I thought it would,” his cousin, Grayson Elliott,
said in what he obviously meant to be a helpful manner. It wasn’t. “A bit scorched
around the edges perhaps, but not bad, not bad at all.”
said in what he obviously meant to be a helpful manner. It wasn’t. “A bit scorched
around the edges perhaps, but not bad, not bad at all.”
“No, it doesn’t look bad.” The two men stood some ten yards from the house at the
foot of the circular drive that linked the long drive to the main gate. And from here,
given this precise angle and in the cold light of late afternoon, there was indeed
little to indicate the destruction within the stone walls of the hall. Certainly what
was left of the front door was charred and the glass in most of the windows in the
center section of the house had shattered, but the east and west wings appeared untouched.
All in all it really didn’t
look
bad.
foot of the circular drive that linked the long drive to the main gate. And from here,
given this precise angle and in the cold light of late afternoon, there was indeed
little to indicate the destruction within the stone walls of the hall. Certainly what
was left of the front door was charred and the glass in most of the windows in the
center section of the house had shattered, but the east and west wings appeared untouched.
All in all it really didn’t
look
bad.
“Appearances, Cousin, are deceiving.” Win started toward the house, barely noting
the puddles of soot-laden water or trampled, filthy snow or the chunks of charred
wood lying about. Nor was he especially aware of the pervading aroma of smoke and
acrid burned matter or the brisk breeze and his lack of suitable outer garments. “It
is much worse than it looks.”
the puddles of soot-laden water or trampled, filthy snow or the chunks of charred
wood lying about. Nor was he especially aware of the pervading aroma of smoke and
acrid burned matter or the brisk breeze and his lack of suitable outer garments. “It
is much worse than it looks.”
It could be worse.
“Fortunately,” he continued, “everyone in the house escaped unharmed. And no one was
injured battling the blaze.”
injured battling the blaze.”
“Something to be grateful for,” Gray said at his side.
Any number of people still milled around the building, mostly male servants: the gardener
and undergardeners, the stable hands, the footmen. The hours since the fire had been
discovered blurred together in an endless moment or day or eternity. Win had lost
track of the time, although it was now obviously late afternoon, as well as exactly
who had been here. The fire brigade from the village had responded and help had arrived
from neighboring estates, but the snow had made the going slow. Still, it had also
helped put out the blaze. While it was certainly cold, the lake was not frozen and
the estate pumping station had supplied the water needed to fight the flames.
and undergardeners, the stable hands, the footmen. The hours since the fire had been
discovered blurred together in an endless moment or day or eternity. Win had lost
track of the time, although it was now obviously late afternoon, as well as exactly
who had been here. The fire brigade from the village had responded and help had arrived
from neighboring estates, but the snow had made the going slow. Still, it had also
helped put out the blaze. While it was certainly cold, the lake was not frozen and
the estate pumping station had supplied the water needed to fight the flames.
Win stepped over the threshold and gestured for his cousin to join him. Gray had been
in London and Win had sent word to him shortly after daybreak. After all, Fairborough
Hall was as much Gray’s home as it was Win’s.
in London and Win had sent word to him shortly after daybreak. After all, Fairborough
Hall was as much Gray’s home as it was Win’s.
Gray stepped up beside him and sucked in a hard breath. “Good God.”
“I should think this was the work of a hand considerably lower than heaven,” Win murmured.
It was indeed a scene straight from hell. Or perhaps it was hell’s aftermath.
It was indeed a scene straight from hell. Or perhaps it was hell’s aftermath.
Haphazard heaps of blackened wood littered what had once been the grand entry hall.
Here and there a whisper of smoke drifted upward from still-smoldering debris. A blackened
skeleton was all that remained of the magnificent center stairway. The glorious ceiling
with its intricate plaster moldings and painted scenes from Greek mythology was little
more than a charred memory, open now to the floors above them and all the way to the
scorched roof timbers.
Here and there a whisper of smoke drifted upward from still-smoldering debris. A blackened
skeleton was all that remained of the magnificent center stairway. The glorious ceiling
with its intricate plaster moldings and painted scenes from Greek mythology was little
more than a charred memory, open now to the floors above them and all the way to the
scorched roof timbers.
Gray started into the house, but Win grabbed him and pulled him back. “Careful, Gray,
the integrity of the floor is still in question and will be until we can get in there,
start cleaning out the debris and assess the destruction.” He ran a weary hand through
his sooty hair. The aroma of smoke drifted around him. Odd, he would have thought
by now he was immune to the smell of smoke.
the integrity of the floor is still in question and will be until we can get in there,
start cleaning out the debris and assess the destruction.” He ran a weary hand through
his sooty hair. The aroma of smoke drifted around him. Odd, he would have thought
by now he was immune to the smell of smoke.
“Of course.” Gray’s shocked gaze scanned the damage. “I can’t believe how much is
gone.” He glanced at his cousin. “Were any of the furnishings saved? The paintings?
Uncle Roland’s books?”
gone.” He glanced at his cousin. “Were any of the furnishings saved? The paintings?
Uncle Roland’s books?”
“We did manage to get the family portraits and most of the paintings out, those hung
low enough to reach, that is. Thanks to Mother really.” He forced a wry smile. “While
Father and I and Prescott and the other male servants were trying to prevent the spread
of the fire, Mother was directing the housekeeper and the maids in rescuing the paintings
and whatever else she could think of.” At this point he didn’t want to consider how
much had been lost. Time enough for that later. It had been nothing short of chaos,
and the fact that they had rescued anything at all now seemed something of a minor
miracle.
low enough to reach, that is. Thanks to Mother really.” He forced a wry smile. “While
Father and I and Prescott and the other male servants were trying to prevent the spread
of the fire, Mother was directing the housekeeper and the maids in rescuing the paintings
and whatever else she could think of.” At this point he didn’t want to consider how
much had been lost. Time enough for that later. It had been nothing short of chaos,
and the fact that they had rescued anything at all now seemed something of a minor
miracle.
“It looks like the fire was confined to the middle section of the house.” He glanced
at Win. “So the library was unaffected?”
at Win. “So the library was unaffected?”
It could be worse.
“With any luck, given its location,” Win said. “The east and west wings appear untouched,
although I fear there might be a great deal of smoke damage. Oddly enough, the stone
walls between the wings and the main portion of the building were widened at some
point in its history, providing a fire break all the way to the roof. Father mentioned
something about that when we realized the fire had been contained, but it’s not original
to the building of the house. I had never given the width of those walls much thought—indeed,
I’m not certain I ever noticed—but they kept the fire from spreading.”
although I fear there might be a great deal of smoke damage. Oddly enough, the stone
walls between the wings and the main portion of the building were widened at some
point in its history, providing a fire break all the way to the roof. Father mentioned
something about that when we realized the fire had been contained, but it’s not original
to the building of the house. I had never given the width of those walls much thought—indeed,
I’m not certain I ever noticed—but they kept the fire from spreading.”
“Wasn’t a previous earl a witness to the great fire of London? And was terrified of
fire from then on?”
fire from then on?”
“Perhaps we have him to thank then.” Nonetheless, it was difficult to manage any semblance
of gratitude for a long dead ancestor. Win was fairly certain allowing any emotion,
even one as simple as gratitude, would open the floodgates for despair, and for that
he simply didn’t have the time. “I had always thought the house was essentially unchanged
from the day when it was built by the first earl. I can’t remember when.”
of gratitude for a long dead ancestor. Win was fairly certain allowing any emotion,
even one as simple as gratitude, would open the floodgates for despair, and for that
he simply didn’t have the time. “I had always thought the house was essentially unchanged
from the day when it was built by the first earl. I can’t remember when.”
“1592,” Gray murmured.
“You always were good at dates.”
“I know.”
Under other circumstances, Win would have replied with something appropriately sarcastic
and witty, but, at the moment, he didn’t have the strength. The fire had awoken them
some fourteen hours ago. It seemed like forever.
and witty, but, at the moment, he didn’t have the strength. The fire had awoken them
some fourteen hours ago. It seemed like forever.
“At least the roof is still intact,” Gray said.
It could be worse
.
.
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“Any idea how it started?”
“It could have been anything. A spark from a fireplace. An untended lamp.” Win shrugged.
“I daresay we’ll probably never really know.”
“I daresay we’ll probably never really know.”
“How are Uncle Roland and Aunt Margaret?”
“Bearing up. Mother is made of much sterner stuff than I had imagined. She and I insisted
Father rest. I sent them to the dower house.” Win managed a slight smile. “It is testament
to the serious nature of the day that Mother did not protest, although it was all
she could do to make Father leave.”
Father rest. I sent them to the dower house.” Win managed a slight smile. “It is testament
to the serious nature of the day that Mother did not protest, although it was all
she could do to make Father leave.”
“How is he?” Gray’s worried gaze searched Win’s.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. He’s getting older and all this . . .” Win’s
throat tightened. He shook his head, turned and stepped outside.
throat tightened. He shook his head, turned and stepped outside.
Gray followed him. His parents had died when he was very young, and Win’s parents
had raised him as their own. Even though Gray had left England for more than a decade,
he was still Win’s closest friend and very much his brother. Gray grabbed his cousin’s
arm. “Win.”
had raised him as their own. Even though Gray had left England for more than a decade,
he was still Win’s closest friend and very much his brother. Gray grabbed his cousin’s
arm. “Win.”
“He’s tired, Gray, that’s all.” Win blew a long, weary breath. “We’re all tired.”
“I hope he looks better than you do.” Gray studied him closely. “You look like you’ve
been through hell.”
been through hell.”
“I can’t imagine why.” He glanced down. His clothes were filthy; there was a tear
in his coat sleeve and a nasty burn on the back of his hand. Odd, he hadn’t even noticed
it.
in his coat sleeve and a nasty burn on the back of his hand. Odd, he hadn’t even noticed
it.
“So . . .” Gray looked back at the house. “What happens now?”
“There’s nothing more to be done today. I have men here who will stay the night and
make certain the fire does not reignite. Tomorrow, we’ll assess the east and west
wings to determine the damage. Hopefully, it’s minimal.”
It could be worse,
the refrain echoed in his head. He ignored it. “For now, most of the servants have
family in the village they can stay with. Mother, Father and I will stay in the dower
house, along with whatever servants need a bed. It will be overly crowded but we shall
make do, at least for tonight.”
make certain the fire does not reignite. Tomorrow, we’ll assess the east and west
wings to determine the damage. Hopefully, it’s minimal.”
It could be worse,
the refrain echoed in his head. He ignored it. “For now, most of the servants have
family in the village they can stay with. Mother, Father and I will stay in the dower
house, along with whatever servants need a bed. It will be overly crowded but we shall
make do, at least for tonight.”
“Prescott will love that.” Gray smiled. “He’s never approved of making do.”
Even the thought of their eminently proper butler making do in tight quarters with
the Earl and Countess of Fairborough failed to ease Win’s mood. “Will you be going
back to London tonight?”
the Earl and Countess of Fairborough failed to ease Win’s mood. “Will you be going
back to London tonight?”
“Absolutely not.” Indignation sounded in Gray’s voice. “I know I haven’t lived here
for years, but this is still my home, Win. I intend to stay right here for as long
as you and Uncle Roland and Aunt Margaret need me. And, given the looks of it, that
will be for some time.”
for years, but this is still my home, Win. I intend to stay right here for as long
as you and Uncle Roland and Aunt Margaret need me. And, given the looks of it, that
will be for some time.”
“The dower house is already overcrowded,” Win said wryly.
“I’ll stay the night at Millworth Manor.” He paused. “Aunt Margaret and Uncle Roland
would probably be more comfortable there as well, as would you. And it’s only a half
an hour carriage drive from here.”
would probably be more comfortable there as well, as would you. And it’s only a half
an hour carriage drive from here.”
“That is something to consider for tomorrow, but as for tonight, we’ll stay here.
I’m not sure I could drag Father away as it is.” Win gestured at the destruction.
“I don’t know that he’s really accepted all this.”
I’m not sure I could drag Father away as it is.” Win gestured at the destruction.
“I don’t know that he’s really accepted all this.”
It wasn’t easy to watch your heritage—the house that had served as your family’s home
for nearly three centuries as well as all those treasures one didn’t realize were
treasures until they were gone—go up in smoke. Win had known, in a rational sense,
that his father was growing older, but he hadn’t really seemed at all aged until Win
had seen the fire reflected in the older man’s eyes. And the sorrow. Win had known
as well that one day he would be the next Earl of Fairborough, but last night that
inevitable inheritance was for the first time very real and all too close.
for nearly three centuries as well as all those treasures one didn’t realize were
treasures until they were gone—go up in smoke. Win had known, in a rational sense,
that his father was growing older, but he hadn’t really seemed at all aged until Win
had seen the fire reflected in the older man’s eyes. And the sorrow. Win had known
as well that one day he would be the next Earl of Fairborough, but last night that
inevitable inheritance was for the first time very real and all too close.
He shoved the thought aside. Father was in good health and there was no need borrowing
trouble. They had enough already.
trouble. They had enough already.
“Have
you
accepted all this?”
you
accepted all this?”
“I don’t know.” Win’s gaze drifted over the house once again. The overcast skies only
added to the dreary scene. It was as if all color had vanished from the world, leaving
everything gray and black and dull and dingy. He wasn’t entirely certain it hadn’t
all been a dreadful dream brought on by something he’d eaten that disagreed with him
or some odd story he’d read that lingered in the back of his mind. “I shall have to,
I suppose.” He glanced at his cousin. “Have you?”
added to the dreary scene. It was as if all color had vanished from the world, leaving
everything gray and black and dull and dingy. He wasn’t entirely certain it hadn’t
all been a dreadful dream brought on by something he’d eaten that disagreed with him
or some odd story he’d read that lingered in the back of his mind. “I shall have to,
I suppose.” He glanced at his cousin. “Have you?”
Gray stared at the house for a long moment. “I was able to prepare myself, I suppose,
after I received your telegram. Waiting for the next train and the hour-long trip
here, I had the time to imagine the worst and ready myself.”
after I received your telegram. Waiting for the next train and the hour-long trip
here, I had the time to imagine the worst and ready myself.”
Win started down the drive toward the dower house. “You should see Mother and Father.
They’ll be pleased that you’re here.”
They’ll be pleased that you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Gray took a last look at Fairborough Hall, then shook
his head and joined his cousin. “It could have been much worse, I suppose.”
his head and joined his cousin. “It could have been much worse, I suppose.”
“That’s what I keep thinking.”
A crash sounded behind them, reverberating through the air and the ground beneath
their feet. The two men swiveled back and stared at the house. A cloud of ash and
dust hung in the air directly above the mid-portion of the building. Win winced.
their feet. The two men swiveled back and stared at the house. A cloud of ash and
dust hung in the air directly above the mid-portion of the building. Win winced.
Gray’s eyes widened. “What on earth was that?”
“I’m fairly certain that,” Win said with a weary sigh, “was the roof.”
Yes, indeed it could have been worse.
And now, it was.
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