Was there ever a woman as unselfish and considerate as her? Her kindness and generosity overwhelmed him. Would that he could be even fractionally worthy of her praise.
“I’m so happy you sneaked into the Lyon’s Den, Vanessa.” He freed one of his hands, then lifted one of hers and brushed his lips across the back.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with a knuckle, giving him a tender smile. “And I’m glad you were there to rescue me. I cannot help but think Gabriel would have approved. Someday you will tell me what happened? I should like to know.”
Chapter Eight
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 the rutted drive to Quail Hollow House. 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 songbird 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.
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 upkeep of the grand manor, over three times the size of Quail Hollow House.
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. Dove-Lyon 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’d 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 at meeting her new brothers and sisters. Despite his insistence at the Lyon’s Den 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 Kingston 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.
The shortage of bedchambers at Quail Hollow was an issue, but perhaps other rooms might be converted into temporary chambers. She searched the archives of her memory, trying to recall the house’s floor plan.
At best, her recollection was fuzzy. An absence of many years contributed to the uncertainty. Besides, she’d only ever been in Madeline’s bedchamber on the upper floor and the drawing room, dining room, and kitchens on the lower.
According to Kingston, Paxton and Gareth already shared a room. If she could convince two of the sisters to do so as well, then there would be sufficient bedchambers until a new wing could be built. She meant to see the addition accomplished before the annulment commenced.
Soon the grounds would be bustling with all manner of craftsmen as well as wagons delivering supplies.
“Welcome to Quail Hollow House, Vanessa,” Kingston said gravely, a note of pride in his voice despite the house’s raggedy appearance. He didn’t apologize for the dilapidated condition, and her heart turned over with approval and compassion.
“I have so many wonderful memories of time spent here as a child,” Vanessa said, deciding truth was the best response.
The place looked tired and worn, but the bones of the building were sturdy, and the clean windows sparkled cheerily despite the disrepair. Several shutters hung askew, and vines snaked up the front of the house.
The structure looked sound enough except for a few missing chimney bricks. The setting sun cast burnished and golden hues over the aged stones, giving it a quaint, romantic ambiance.
How well she recollected the tidy gardens and the studiously cared for lawns that once graced the expansive grounds. She’d romped there often enough with Madeline, and the two of them had tagged after their adored older brothers, who spent a great deal of time in what now appeared to be empty stables.
As she visually inspected the house, two gray-brown mice scurried from beneath a pile of wood stacked haphazardly near the front entrance.
Kingston stiffened, and his breathing hitched, revealing he’d spied the tiny trespassers too.
How far the Barclays’ circumstances had fallen, but Vanessa knew better than to reveal pity or empathy.
Kingston’s bruised pride couldn’t take another blow.
&n
bsp; Once more, Vanessa’s attention drifted toward Helmstead. Residing there might be advisable during the renovation at Quail Hollow, truth be told.
She and Kingston had taken but three steps before the black, paint-chipped entrance door flew open and a parade of his exuberant, laughing siblings burst forth.
“Kingston,” a lanky lad exclaimed, rushing forward, followed by a more somber teenager and his three grinning sisters.
Kingston dropped his hand from Vanessa’s elbow as his family surrounded him, hugging, kissing, laughing, and bombarding him with questions.
After a few moments, Madeline centered her focus on Vanessa. Her eyes went round, and a smile wreathed her face. “Vanessa Becket?”
Astonishment pitched her voice high on the last syllable.
That drew her siblings’ avid attention.
She slung her brother a puzzled glance before returning her attention to Vanessa, her blue eyes brimming with questions. “What in the world?”
Now all five of his brothers and sisters openly gaped at Vanessa. She felt somewhat like an oddity on display at a country fair. Nonetheless, she summoned a genuine smile.
The family resemblance was unmistakable. All possessed blond hair and blue eyes, though Gareth’s and Dorena’s hair was almost light brown while Madeline’s was the shade of ripe wheat. Her eyes were also a darker blue, as were Paxton’s.
Five pairs of eyes fixed on Vanessa, keen curiosity skating across their too-lean features as they considered her.
Kingston cleared his throat and tipped up one side of his mouth. “Madeline, I see you remember Vanessa.”
“I do too,” piped in Rebecca, a flush turning her cheeks rosy. “Though, I confess not well.”
“Well, I don’t,” grumbled Dorena, planting her hands on her hips and looking between Vanessa and Kingston, suspicion narrowing her cornflower-blue gaze. A slight breeze teased the worn hem of her outdated gown and ruffled the boys’ too long hair.
Wearing trousers several inches too short, his brothers shifted their scuffed-boot shod feet, casting their attention to the ground as their ears turned raspberry red.
Fine lines bracketing his mouth, Kingston reclaimed her elbow. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”
Chapter Nine
“Wife?” his five siblings chorused in comical, flabbergasted unison as if they’d practiced doing so.
“Wife?” Dorena repeated, making the word sound like a foul oath. “You never said a word about a wife when you went to London, Kingston. Only that you would find a solution to our…” she exchanged guarded, private glances with her brothers and sisters. “Our circumstances.”
Did they sincerely believe Vanessa wasn’t aware of their impoverishment?
Well, perhaps pride was all they had left.
Fifteen-year-old Gareth scratched his chin, eyeing Vanessa from head to toe, and she regretted wearing her stylish traveling ensemble. It bespoke wealth they might misinterpret for superiority.
“Seems to me, Rena, she is the solution,” he said with youthful candor.
The boys should be at university, getting an education, and the girls at finishing school, if they desired. Vanessa’s heart ached for all they’d been deprived of.
“Kingston, you married an heiress?” Dorena spat the word before she gave a contemptuous snort. “That’s your solution?”
Oh, bugger.
“Dorena.” Rebecca glared darkly at her sister. “Where are your manners?”
“Indeed, Dorena,” Madeline reprimanded, her tone soft but uncompromising. “You’re behaving unspeakably rude to our new sis—” At the horrified glances swung to her by every other sibling, she pressed her mouth into a thin ribbon. “To Vanessa,” she amended with an apologetic glance at Vanessa.
Vanessa hadn’t considered she’d be an outsider. An unwelcome intruder in their tightknit family. A pang of disappointment pealed through her. Once Kingston had made it plain he’d not hide her from his family, she’d hoped to renew her friendship with Madeline and forge new ones with the other Barclays, as well.
Except…he had tried to foist her off at the inn.
She slanted him a considering glance from beneath her lashes.
Had he changed his mind?
Why?
“See here,” Kingston said, his reproving attention settling on each of his sisters and brothers in turn. “Vanessa deserves our gratitude for consenting to join our family.”
Gratitude?
Mouths pinched, mutiny glinted in Dorena and Gareth’s eyes. Madeline and Rebecca darted chagrined gazes between Vanessa, Kingston, and their angry siblings. A half-grin quirking his mouth, Paxton looked on, equally amused and curious.
And there went Kingston’s hand, lifted to scratch his nose.
Vanessa would be bound that he hadn’t expected her to receive a less than cordial welcome, either. His sole motivation was to make a better life for them, and he’d sacrificed himself to do so. They’d never know what depths he’d been willing to go to, what humiliation he’d have endured securing their futures, and righteous anger simmered low in her belly for him.
What would they have done had he brought home the woman who’d won him at the auction that had never taken place? God only knew what manner of person she would’ve been.
A most inappropriate giggle bubbled up the back of Vanessa’s throat.
“I told you I’d do what needed to be done,” Kingston said stiffly, sending Vanessa an apologetic glance over the blond heads surrounding him.
“You should have consulted us first,” Dorena insisted heatedly.
“Aye, we should’ve had a say, too,” Paxton ventured, but without nearly the same vehemence as his sister. “Your wife is very pretty, though, Kingston.”
Dorena mouthed, “Traitor.”
Paxton just shrugged his thin shoulders.
“I do not need your permission to marry,” Kingston clipped out.
The six siblings all began speaking at once, and in the cacophony, several things became clear.
Not all of his family welcomed Vanessa.
The Barclays, one and all, possessed an abundance of pride, and loathed the idea of their brother marrying for money. Vanessa was an interloper, even if she’d been neighbors with the Barclays at one time, and Gabriel had been Kingston’s closet chum. And lastly, Kingston might be their older brother and guardian, but Madeline was the one they looked to for leadership.
Vanessa couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and so she patiently waited for the din to subside. The arrival of the heavily-laden second coach saw to that.
The younger Barclays’ eyes grew enormous once more when the other conveyance, piled high with luggage, lumbered to a rocky stop, and five servants descended from the equipage. Her staff stretched and, with identical skeptical expressions, examined their temporary home.
Only they weren’t aware it was temporary.
No one was except two solemn-faced, bespectacled solicitors whose profession required them to keep the knowledge to themselves.
However, in less time than it took for Vanessa to note that unfortunate fact, her staff had composed their features into neutral expressions as any loyal servants worth their salt did.
“Where in the hell do you suppose we’ll put them?” Gareth asked, the disgust and apprehension he tried to hide, causing his adolescent voice to crack.
“Gareth,” Madeline chided. “Language.”
Though she hid it well, she too fretted. Her gaze skittering between the servants patiently standing and awaiting orders and the house, gave her away. As did her tightly clasped hands.
Snorting, Gareth shook his head and kicked at a small stone. “There are nine of them,” he grumbled. “And the servants’ quarters are meant for four. And need I remind you, Madeline, they’ve been unused for years? Cobwebs. Rodents. Peeling paper. Rotting floors? Leaky roof?”
Vanessa caught the horrified expression that whisked across Daisy’s face before the lady’s maid schooled her fea
tures into a mask of indifference. But not before she sent Leroy Gaines an I-told-you-so look.
“That is true,” Rebecca put in, worry etching the corners of her pretty, but thin face.
Four?
Truly?
Why hadn’t Kingston said anything?
Because—the truth rammed her with the force of a coal cart—he hadn’t intended for her or her servants to actually stay at Quail Hollow.
What had changed his mind?
He’d been most insistent that she meet his family when they were in London.
This was most awkward.
A chagrined flush crept up Vanessa’s throat and heated her face to her hairline. She looked to her new husband, trying to keep the accusation from her gaze. “I’m certain we can make temporary arrangements,” she said. “We may be a bit crowded, but only for a day or two until something can be worked out.”
Helmstead sounded more and more appealing with each passing minute.
“Yes, of course, we can.” Madeline gave her sisters a don’t-you-dare-argue look. “I’ll move my things in with Rebecca, and Kingston and Vanessa can sleep in Mama and Papa’s chamber. The female servants can use Dorena’s chamber—”
“What?” Dorena huffed, blue sparks spewing from her eyes. “I have to share a chamber with you and Rebecca?”
“We are all making sacrifices, Dorena,” Madeline warned in a no-nonsense tone.
That left one bedchamber.
Vanessa opened her mouth to say she and Kingston wouldn’t be sharing a bedchamber, but before she could, Madeline said, “The male house servants can take the last room inside the house. There are lodgings in the stables for the drivers and stable hands, but I fear they’re in poor repair, as well.”
To their credit, Vanessa’s servants remained bland-faced.
“That sounds perfectly acceptable for tonight,” she said, refusing to send her staff an apologetic glance. It would do them good to appreciate how well off they had it, too.
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